I heard the sharp clicks of stiletto high heels as my mother walked into the school nurse's office for the fifth time that week. I pretended to be asleep, to avoid the wrath of my mother, but I could hear the anger in her voice as she apologized to the nurse for whatever I had done to myself this time. I stood up, grabbed my book on Harry Houdini, and was dragged out of the school by the rough, manicured hands of my mother.

"I cannot believe you!" my mother screamed as soon as we got out of the building. "What in the world did you do this time?"

"It was just a stupid dare, I didn't think I would get in trouble, honest!" I stammered. "Joe and Steve said that if I drank soda and ate Mentos at the same time, they would explode in my mouth. I didn't believe them so they dared me to try it..."

"Oh, another one of your stupid dares," my story was cut short by my mother's chiding, "I don't even want to hear it anymore Marcus. It is only Wednesday and I have had to leave work to come here five times already! This stops now! When are you going to realize that these dares you constantly get in trouble for are childish and immature?" Her harsh words beat down on me as if I were a bass drum.

I could not conjure up an answer that would explain to my mother why I couldn't back down from a dare. So instead, I reclined the expensive leather car seat as far as it would go, closed my eyes and tried to forget the events of the last three days, of which a majority of time was spent in the principal's office.

Suddenly, my short period of serenity was interrupted by my mother's cell phone. I was used to her talking on the phone constantly so I closed my eyes again. She was talking loudly and angrily, the same tone she uses when scolding me. After a long time, she hung up the phone and let out an exasperating sigh. "Marcus," she said, "you are going to have to stay with your father for the next week. I have to go on an unexpected business trip."

"Really?" I exclaimed, trying to contain my excitement to avoid hurting my mother's feelings.

"Yes, really. He will have to pick you up after school tomorrow."

I sat back in my seat again, now with a huge smile on my face.

The next day at school, I arrived determined to not get in any trouble. I didn't want my dad to be the one getting me at the principal's office, with disappointment all over his face.

Lunch time came around, and I tried to be as quiet as possible while sitting with my friends. If they even mentioned a dare, my own self pride would force me to accept the challenge. But, as usual some sort of dare came up.

"Hey Marcus," said Steve. "I dare you to go sit with that freak Medusa over there." My eyes traveled to a girl with frizzy, curly hair sitting by herself at a lunch table. Her real name is Amanda, but everyone called her Medusa because of her crazy hair. Rumor had it that if you looked into her eyes you would turn to stone. I knew all of this wasn't true and I felt terrible that everyone talked about her so badly. I quickly considered my options, if I didn't take the dare my friends would call me a wimp, but taking the dare really wouldn't get me in trouble, after all, I was only being nice.

I confidently, stood up and walked over to her table, hoping it wouldn't be as awkward as my friends had anticipated. The short walk across the room seemed to take years as all of the eyes in the lunchroom bore down on me, judging me, but mostly judging Amanda. I really didn't see what the big deal was, after all she was just a 13 year old, the same as everyone in that lunchroom.

I ignored the murmurs and whispers as I sat next to Medusa. "Hey Medu- I mean Amanda. I'm Marcus." I waited for a response but she didn't even look up from the mountains of mysterious mush that were heaped onto her lunch tray. "Don't you just love cafeteria food?" I said, hoping to stifle a laugh from her. Still her eyes focused on the tray, as if staring at it would make it turn into something that actually looked edible. I continued to blab on talking about whatever that came to my mind; homework, teachers, sports.

Finally, in between two of my varying topics, Amanda lifted her head, and looked directly at me. I heard the gasps of my classmates all around me, and the cafeteria went silent. One boy whispered (rather loudly), "He is going to turn into stone! Someone rescue him!" Amanda continued to stare at me until conversation in the cafeteria picked up again. Quietly so that no one else could hear, she spoke, probably the first words she has ever said in that cafeteria, "I know you are here because your friends dared you. You may think your some kind of hero coming over here to sit with me; the laughing stock of the eighth grade. If you think that it takes courage to talk to me, then you can stop right now."

I sat there, dumbfounded, my mouth was wide open. I had no clue how to respond. "No, you don't understand. The dare isn't the only reason, I... I felt bad for you."

"Oh please," Amanda said, "You don't have to make excuses. But even if you do feel bad, I don't want to be your charity case." And with that, she stood up and left.

My friends came up and sat next to me, "Dude, what happened?" Joe asked.

"You are absolutely crazy, I can't believe you talked to her!" exclaimed Steve.

"Um, I... I really have to go," I was still flabbergasted. I didn't want to be around Joe and Steve, they didn't understand that Amanda knew what people said about her, and that it did hurt her feelings. I stood up and rushed to the bathroom, where I stayed until the bell rang for the next period.

I sat silently and cooperatively through my last two classes before the final bell rang. As I waited for my dad who was stuck in the never ending line of cars waiting to pick up their children, Joe and Steve approached me. "Dude, are you okay?" Steve asked me.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" They exchanged puzzled looks of concern and thankfully my dad's pick-up truck was next in line, "My dad is here. I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

I climbed into my dad's truck, which had the familiar smell of dirt, sweat, and pizza.

"Hey buddy! How was school today? Manage to stay out of trouble?" my dad chuckled as he said this. He found most of the dares that I had performed for my classmates humorous. My mother on the other hand didn't have the same opinion.

"It was okay, although lunch was certainly not fun. There is this girl named Amanda, but everybody calls her Medusa behind her back..." I went on to tell him all of the events that occurred in the cafeteria. My father listened intently, his eyebrows and facial expressions showing his reactions to the story. Once I had finished, he stared ahead at the road silently for quite some time. I could tell he was thinking deeply because he had one eyebrow raised and his tongue hanging slightly out. Me and my mother used to make fun of him for this "thinking face". But, that was before the divorce. Nowadays my mom doesn't joke around too much.

My dad pulled the car over, turned off the engine and looked at me, with his genuine blue eyes, "So you are telling me that the reason you talked to this girl in the first place is because you're friends dared you. You didn't once think of standing up for her when they were making fun of her. You knew it was wrong."

I hated these moments, they were rare but it was the few moments when my father was scolding me. It wasn't the normal type of scolding involving yelling and punishments, but it was what I call psychological lectures. I always feel so helpless when he reprimands me, I hate letting my father down. "Well I... I yes, I guess I never really considered how she must've felt."

"No I don't think you did. Son, I like to look at things from different perspectives. I have always liked to think that the Greek legend Medusa wasn't evil. She just needed someone to reach out to her, stand up for her and prove to everyone else that she wasn't a freak. That person would have a whole lot more courage than a warrior who intruded into her cave and tried to chop her head off."

Somehow he had managed to turn one of the most evil characters of mythology into a kind being. My father's wisdom always amazed me, "Wow, I never thought of it like that."

"Sometimes, you just have to look at things from the other person's point of view. Being brave isn't doing silly dares, being brave is standing up for what is right."

Once again, for what seemed like the billionth time that day, I did not know what to say, but I knew exactly what I should do, "Dad, tomorrow, I promise I will stand up for Amanda."

"Good, You know what Marcus?" I turned my head to look at him, "I know a lot has changed since the divorce, but you have stayed amazingly strong. You may not always do the right thing, but you are learning. And how about you try holding off on those dares for a while?" We both laughed a little at that comment. He continued, "The dares do not prove your courage, but let me tell you, you certainly have a lot of it. You truly are the bravest 8th grader I have ever met. I am extremely proud of you." And those six simple words, are all I have ever wanted to hear from my father. And never again, well I let my father down.