ALL NOVEL Chapter 1: Bullied
Prologue
I didn’t think I’d heard him right. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘Give me your lunch money.’” This big brute of a kid was old fashioned or watched way too much TV to know how this game worked.
Time for me to teach him a lesson. “Oh, I would, but I’m fresh out of dough. I’ve paid all my dues to my friends.” I gave the three guys over my shoulder by the swings a indicative nod. “See,” I said, turning my pockets inside out, “they beat you to the punch.”
He just put on a funny smirk. “Fine. I’ll have to pound it into your pretty face to treat me better then them.”
I rolled my eyes and asked, “Why? Looks like your mom does a good enough job buttering you up, Fatso.” I stood my ground and waited. I hoped he was going to try something. It would make my job a lot easier.
Squinting and leaning, he shook his head at me and began to roll those blubbery shoulders of his like a mad bull ready to charge. He snuffed angrily too and suggestively threatened me by asking, “What did you just call me?”
He made it a struggle for me not to laugh.
I was now wondering, ’Did this guy pick up a book on Bullying for Dummies?’ He was getting every cliche line I could think of except for the one I wanted to hear. I would have to provoke him into saying what I wanted to hear. “That’s it?”
He actually squinted harder and blustered, “What? What’s it?”
My tensed up shoulders dropped, as did my expectations, of getting hammered. I looked over at my three friends on standby. “Look over there. You see them? I mean, look. Look good.” I didn’t have to turn and see if this big guy was doing as I suggested. He was, if he knew what was good for him. “I’m short on money. Now, they want more. I mean, I’m just one kid. I can pay one of them, but you could make up for the other two.” I held up my hands, feigning surrender, then dropped them. “Maybe you’re just big-boned? Figured you’d have the money, considering your size.”
“One more word out of that mouth of yours and I’ll shut it up for good.” His angry response made me think, ’Maybe there is hope for this guy?’
I returned to face him again and smiled. “Look at them. No, not at me. Them. Give me all your lunch money. All of it. Not just today, tomorrow, or this week. The rest of the school year, you’re in their pocket. Not mine. They are in control here. I’m just negotiating for them.” Tilting my head down, I glanced up at him as I dropped my smile to seriously add: “You don’t give me what they want, they’ll come over here.”
“Bring ’em on.” He was sweating and far from squinting anymore. I recognized that expression. That wide eyed and nervous face he had right now and, to top it all off, I bet he was probably wondering: ’Did I fuck up?’
That was disappointing. I thought, ’If he’d just listen to me…’
Tucking my tongue into my cheek, I shrugged, turned away from him, and shook my head at the three friends of mine. Two got off their swinging asses, the bigger of the three shoved off from leaning into the swing’s structure support, and started walking on over here as I evacuated.
“He’s just full of hot air,” was my response to Fester’s quick unquestioning glance at me.
Fester, the baldy with stocky shoulders who walked rigidly past me, stared at Fatso without batting an eye as he responded with a creepy smile on his face: “Good. I always wanted a blow-up doll that could bounce back.”
I wrinkled my nose at the thought of those two together. I knew that wasn’t what he meant, but the disgusting image popped into my head anyways.
The other two weren’t really the muscle. Just bodies. Numbers. Fester was the real deal. If I was the brains, he was my brawn. Unlike that fat wannabe, we were the real bullies of the playground.
“Really?” Lofting a brow, I stared at the beautiful redhead coming over.
I shrugged. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re an instigator.” She pointed out the current fight going on. “If he had punched you --”
“Erin, that was the point. I’d have a better alibi and he’d be a good number to add. At least, he would have… He’s all talk. Not a good one at that, either.” Again, I shrugged. “At least Fester is having fun.” No idea what was taking that elected recess monitor so long to get here and break the fight up.
Erin shook her head, and said, “David doesn’t like to be called that.”
“You’ve a better name for him? He’s like a carbon copy of Fester Addams.” It was an uncanny resemblance because Fester even had black eyes from those students that had the guts to retaliate.
She gave me a rough shove in the shoulder. “You know better.” Erin stared at me, then shook her head as she told me, “You should be better than this. I thought you were!”
I smiled wide and requested, “Then give me something better to do.” I tilted my head and suggested, “You?”
Across her beautiful face appeared an expression of repulsion to my suggestion. “Fuck off. We’re done.” She turned away from me and began walking away. That shot my smile right off my face.
“What?” For a moment, I thought, ’She’s just playing again. Getting me riled up.’
She didn’t bother to face me as she announced back for all to hear: “Done. I can’t take this anymore. If I’m going to be around you next year, I want it to be at a distance.” For once, I didn’t know how to respond to her. I began to go after her, but she yelled: “Don’t come near me. It’s over.”
I stood back. Silently, I wondered, ’Should I go and stop her or stop the fight so she’d think better of me?’ Indecisive… That wasn’t me. At least, it wasn’t before this breakup happened.
Then next year happened. A new school, staff, students, and a bigger bully with an ace up his sleeve…
Bullied
(aka The Uninvited)
In the suburban region of an industrial town, the early Spring morning brightly put on the spotlight that today was apparently a school day. School buses halting traffic, a large number of squealing children and yammering teens milling about, and full car lots at every school in the district was enough of a clue.
Copper rays of sunshine filtered through my curtains and had woken up this guy right here. Yanking the covers over my head, I slept in. While all of those poor saps out there had to stand on their corners or street-edges for the bus, I worried not.
Three blocks away.
That's how far I have to walk from home to school. I thought it was an awesome deal. Well, it was in comparison to previous years of either waiting for or missing those stupidly long yellow buses. Now I didn't have to find a seat and sit next to a little snotty-tot still in grade-school!
That reminded me of my dad. Not divorced. Widowed and still single. No real complaints there. He’d raised me up from birth -- the best he could do -- and I think we got along fine on our own. On that thought, he’d been under the weather. It was really neat to have nearly the whole house to myself since he’d secluded himself into his room. A quarantine! It made me want to laugh. No more yelling across the hall for me to get my ass out of bed.
It must have been nice to do all of his work from bed. I wish I could do that instead of having to attend school. All he needed was a laptop and headset to open up a connection with someone in need of his electronic communication skills. There were times I caught conversations -- barely -- with enough interference for me to believe the call was long distance. It always sounded like the same person -- who I guessed was a woman. That made sense for my opportunistic dad to manipulate the lovely lady into a one on one call.
For him, it was a dear shame that he sounded worse and worse each passing day. I had to wonder how long it would be before his voice would crack and go.
I still wanted to speak with him. It was getting to me how long he’d been cooped up in there, but I didn’t push him. The last time I’d spoken with him was yesterday. Not many words passed through the door. What muffled words I caught had been shrill. Kind of like how our gonads would shrivel up inside our bodies when we run into a freezing cold lake. Was funny at first to hear his illness give him a pip pitch in his voice. Not anymore. How much he was groaning and moaning was tempting me to dial those special three emergency numbers, but he always said, “Uh-I’ll be uhff-fine.”
Disregarding my better judgement, I walked in on him once to finally satisfy myself that he was alright. Not really sure what I had expected to see. Maybe him in bed and sleeping? On his computer working? Reading one of his many books off his shelves? He did have a nice collection going on. What I didn’t anticipate was my dad covered up and huddled in his red sheets on the floor by the window. Like he’d been spying on the neighbors. I could tell that he wasn’t wearing anything beneath those sheets by the way he instantly constricted the covers around himself like E.T. in a bike-basket. That wasn’t what caused me to never step in on him again. His eyes were barely recognizable. He just stared at me. It was as if I had caught him in the act of masturbating. Maybe I had. Apologizing and explaining myself to him in short, I let him do his thing. If he was doing what I thought he was, I was going to leave him well enough alone after walking in on him like that. From then on, I slept blissfully ignorant of the added tossing and turning noises -- to the sounds he voiced -- coming from his room.
It was nice to sleep in until I absolutely had to leave. Even then, I could take my time getting to school because the doors wouldn't open until later. All of us students would have to crowd around outside -- on the bus circle's median or by the front gate's walled walkway -- for those teachers to finally unlock the doors. After that, everybody would pile on in to the cafeteria for breakfast or sit down in the gym waiting for the homerooms to do their audits.
That obnoxious process out of the way, we would shephard ourselves to our homeroom for attendance. Really neat stuff having the school close by.
Our homeroom class had only twelve occupied desks. That was fine with me because I could move around to whichever spot I wanted during the Activity Period before the real classes started. If someone didn't like where I sat, I stood up and moved on my merry way right next to the other desk. Simple, and no fuss too.
Now, my only complaint about this school was the way I had been disciplined for an act I didn't commit. It wasn't apparent and that had crawled under the skins of the teachers.
What did I do? Or rather, didn't.
There’re coffee makers in the Teachers’ Lounge -- not old fashioned, but not the new K-cup types -- and someone had the balls to drop a doozy in their reservoir. Guess how many teachers had an exquisite cup of coffee that morning before waking up enough to realize the shit they were drinking?
Why was I blamed? I was the last one they noted going in there. They had no proof I did it -- which I didn't do -- and that prevented them from doing anything about me. Still, when there was an opportunity, their comparable behaviors interacting with fellow classmates were set from a scale of a happy high hundred down to a zero cool with me.
Honestly, I was under the impression that this had been a set-up. In grade-school, I was the big shot bully around the playground. It wasn't because I was big or strong, fast or agile, nothing physical. I just had the right attitude. Or, I guess the wrong one.
Thing was, I had no idea who would stoop so low to drop a stool in the worst place possible. It had to be either someone desperate to get back at me or this really was a coincidence and there was some sicko with an axe to grind against the teachers.
In any case, I was done with my past school life.
No more demands, arguments, fights, or any form of bullying. Everyone wouldn't tolerate it any longer with my neck on the line. All it would take was one voice to rise up to a teacher and they would band together to formulate the most excessive corrective action. Mostly detention was my go to after school, but -- so long I did my homework or book to read -- no harm done or time wasted.
So, I kept my nose clean...
Bright red haired, tall and slender, fair skinned without a single speckled spot to obscure the glow of her complexion. “Erin,” spoken from my lips would bring an image of delightful purity in my mind. We were careful with each other, but we had our fun. She wasn’t as pronounced with her chest -- compared to a lot of others -- but she made up for it by being diligently slim all round and firm in those lovely thighs. Soft in all the right places and angled perfectly with the right amount of lean curves for my hands to have had joyfully grabbed and explored.
As all redheads seem possess, she had a temper. She couldn’t be my girl anymore partly because of that. The bigger portion of our problem was the big problem I had with the teachers. Associating with me was perhaps the best way to get on their radar. With her outbursts, it would be a matter of time before she ended up in the same boat as me. As the saying goes, Up the Creek Without a Paddle.
Now she was with some big jock. Seeing the two of them together -- everyday in the locker halls -- got to me in a bad way. Today was no different and it bothered me more than less. She was like a counterweight for me. When I pushed my luck too far with my attitude towards someone, she got hot -- in more than a temper -- and directed me to her. I had to learn how to keep a lid on it without an Erin by my side.
She found someone better. That athlete with the buzzed black hair and green eyes. I never caught his name. He always avoided me and I never approached when Erin was with him. No way would I have been capable of restraining my emotions with the two of them together. As always, I shook off the melancholy and weaved through the hall of students to my locker.
Today was a little different...
Standing out in the hall and watching my locker being torn through to be dumped onto the floor was about all I could do. If it was one of my classmates -- or any other student -- I'd show them how assertive I was to find out what game they were playing at. Nowadays, I was keeping myself off to the side like now -- while standing out of the way of the hall’s student traffic -- to spectate an injustice.
This was being supervised by a Mrs. Pureview with the janitor hard at work making a mess on the floor. Every classroom of boys -- and maybe a girl or two -- would love to have Mrs. Pureview as their homeroom teacher or at least take lessons from her. In a formal dress code of the school, she didn’t appear casual at all. Her long black hair was tied tightly in a military bun to keep off of her shawled rose-red shoulders. It didn’t take much for me -- or anyone -- to guess she’d been in the service. Despite being a chick with muscles, she was a pure bonafide knockout that had a pair of outstanding natural padding to go on that nearly matching red rouge-colored bust. Not much could be told what round and firm or long and lean hidden secrets might be stretching down to stand on the floor under that faded black ankle-reaching skirt.
Unfortunately for Mrs. Pureview -- or me -- she was a qualified Bitch from my perspective. She had a pleasant rosey smile that complimented her brilliantly green-eyed glare at all that who or was beneath her. Only thing missing -- that would complete the picture -- was a riding crop snapping impatiently between her hands.
Whispering to myself, I asked a very good question that I intended to direct at them soon. "Why did this have to happen between classes?"
As I approached, Mrs. Pureview took notice of me and smiled warmly. "Clint Jeter. Nice of you to have arrived." Was I expected not to be here?
Glancing down at my stuff blocking Stevie's locker below mine, I gestured at the pile. "What'd I do?"
She shook her head, "Nothing, dearie. Exactly 'Nothing' at all." That perplexed me and added an extra inch to her smile. "Mr. Velos informed me that you neglected to hand in your sophomore project yesterday. You mentioned to him, 'I left it in my locker-r.'" Drawing out that “ar” touched a nerve in me. “How many times have we heard your classroom teachers mention that one?” She wasn’t speaking directly to me this time, but to an Alex that simply shrugged in silence.
Barely holding back my irritation in my voice, I informed her, "I was going to his class next."
Cheerfully she acknowledged that fact, "I know. Alex, did you find his folder?" On cue, the janitor -- Alex here -- pulled a rolled up navy blue folder -- my sophomore project -- out from, I presumed, his always exposed ass-crack. He was a deeply tanned, maybe Hispanic, buzz-topped guy with a bit too thick build going around his chest and waist. At one point in his life, he was possibly a peaked-bulging muscled man, but that wasn’t this year. Those rounded and shiny specs he wore on his wide nose always seemed to be slipping down below those big white eyes with what looked like tiny black olives intensely focusing on me.
Offering it over to me, I tried to take it from his strong grip, shifting my not-too-pleased gaze from the folder to Alex. "Mind if I have it?" He ignored me and yanked the folder from my hand to pass it onto Mrs. Pureview.
Between her fingertips, she took it from Alex easily enough. "We will hand it back to you once we conclude a review. For fidelity. We wouldn't want someone else's work-efforts being plagiarized." The janitor took out a wrinkly-plastic ball from his pocket to blow up into a bag large enough for the teacher to drop my folder in.
I was confused and asked for clarity on this. "You're going to pass it onto Mr. Velos?"
Turning from me, she gave me one side-long look before giving me a laughed 'Hmph!' that bounced her bust and shoulders. "Clint, I'll be speaking with Mr. Harney about revoking your locker access. I'd suggest becoming familiar with everything on the floor." A rebuke was readied, but she cut me off at the sight of my opened mouth. “A month. Show me you have some responsibility. Talk with me then.”
Back to how this started, I just stood there and stared at them as they left me with all my books and classwork on the floor...