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Then I saw that odd thing.There was this guy just staring into the nothingness in the opposite direction of the sunrise. It was odd that in such a lively space it seemed like he was dead, at least inside. He was in some kind of party dress, probably dressed for a wedding. I was not sure what I should do.I just walked towards him. As I came near, he turned around and saw me coming towards me. I could see he hasn’t slept the previous night, his eyes were red. He did not move and just stood there. I moved closer and asked him, “Hey, Are you ok?” He just stood there staring at me and started sobbing.I further moved near to him and shook him and asked: “Is everything all right?”He just said, “Tell my mom I am sorry.” He turned around and started running.My instincts kicked in. I just caught his hand and pulled him back. He fell on his back and I just grabbed him and pinned his hand to the ground.He started crying so hard. Tears started rolling down. He was not trying to break free. I. On weekends, I received love and attention from Mr. Oldham and his friends.I attended C.M.A. three of my four high school years. During that first year I was transformed from an undersized, frightened lad of fourteen to a confident, somewhat studious athlete. To the school I brought unimaginative deceit and feeble excuses. From it I took a better than average academic record, a sense of athletic accomplishment and lasting friendships.At C.M.A., I was thrown in with a group of troubled teenagers who came from families wealthy enough to afford the tuition, but too busy to give their child the attention and guidance he deserved. We were kept so busy we didn't have time to get into trouble while at school; every minute was programmed. It was the school's philosophy that a young man's education was best taught through military discipline and teamwork through football. All students wore the military style uniform and, except for members of the band and seniors who failed to make the.
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