When I was in kindergarten some fifth grader punched me in the nose. I don't remember why. All I remember was that his name was Alexander and he told me he was going to punch me. We were on the bus, or rather the small van that constituted the school bus for the Montessori school we attended, and he announced that he was going to hit me. I was tiny, even for a six year old, and all I could think to do was stall him until I could get the bus driver's attention. So for what felt like forever I lectured him on all of my imaginary friends who were going to make him pay if he hurt me. I had quite the pantheon of made up super animals that lived in a rainbow and could exact retribution on bullies. I don't know how long I rambled on, but when I was scrapping the bottom of the imaginary super hero barrel I saw that the bus driver was opening the door to let one of the kids out. I stopped talking. The angry, blonde fifth grader punched me in the nose as promised. He hadn't noticed the bus driver there. No imaginary magical animal exacted retribution for his random act of violence, but wow did that bus driver get him in trouble!