Oh, yes. In the lunch room on the worst day of my life. That's right...
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Of course the first torment, the public humiliation, just scratched the surface of what came next. I've seen the movies and read the books and I knew that Rob wouldn't win the day. I knew that. My affection for Margret would blossom a cape on my back and my muscles would pop like Popeye's. I would show Rob and the rest of them just how serious I was and how capable these arm cannons were. But I was seriously mistaken.
I had the crumpled dollar bills in my hand and in the blink of an eye they were gone. Almost like magic, my finger nails suddenly dug into my palm instead of clutching the money I had saved.
Poof!
Rob had the money now. Oh, the injustice of it. And it seemed to me that the whole lunch room erupted in laughter. Directed at me, these verbal assaults left no visible wounds, yet, they hurt. They hurt deeper than bruises and lasted longer than scars.
I could feel myself getting bigger. Each passing second granted me another inch in height and soon I would smote them down. I lunged at Rob. I could see the moves flowing through me, I could best Bruce Lee in that moment. I took the money back and held the bully down until the proper authorities arrived to put this menace where he belonged. At the bottom of a well wouldn't be lonely enough, not for Rob. Nothing went that way at all.
I lunged, sure, straight for him. But he was quick, like the money in my hand, Rob was there and...
Poof!
... he was gone. So were the cape and muscles and height I'd gained. I felt like a cartoon character deflating. I was puny again and he - everyone - was larger than life, cooler than cool.
He was at me, now, with the new ammo I'd so willingly provided him. "Soooo, he's got money and brains! Hahahaha," I believe he would have doubled over and joined me on the floor. If he hadn't been busy punching my sides. My vision blanked, my ears rang with the laughter from all around me. I knew, absolutely knew, that Margret was in that number. She liked to laugh and she was doubled over on the floor by the windows, book forgotten, pumping her fists and feet against the cold tiles. I knew that was happening and I felt like I was dieing a slow death.
After what seemed like the whole school day had gone by with Rob on my chest and his fists in my sides and the entire student body cheering him on, the beating stopped. Rough hands, big hands, were under my arm pits hoisting me up. The laughter and catcalls melted into the regular din of a lunch room full of kids. I could still hear Margret over by the windows slapping the smooth tiles of the floor with her palms, laughing and laughing. She was laughing at me.
"Come on, boy," the rough deep voice must belong to the big rough hands, "you're going to the office!"
My nose felt packed with gauze and I snuffed back against it. I felt wet on my face, I had been crying. My eyes blinked open and the shadowy shape-filled world around me came into focus. As my eyes cleared, my ears turned the volume knob down a notch or two.
The man carrying me - Mr. Phelps, math, gross - shocked me back with his emphasis on 'office', as if I had been the guilty party. Now the office, the lunch room, everything got the volume turned down to 0.
Margret!
Where was Margret? I wanted desperately to see her laughing on the floor, laughing at me. I wanted that so I didn't have to dream about the stupid soda fountain and how stupidly out of place it was. I needed to see her in her disgusting hateful place with the rest of the hateful disgusting kids.
At first I didn't see her, probably in the bathroom dabbing her eyes. But then, the bright sun coming through the windows dimmed as my eyes adjusted. A lone silhouette stood out against the bright, there she was, right where she had been, what seemed like, hours ago when I was going to buy her breakfast.
I couldn't read her face. My eyes adjusted some more, the smirk I expected to see wasn't there. I couldn't tell exactly what was there but, she wasn't laughing and she wasn't happy. I knew that. She was what? Concerned? Maybe, but now I was out of the lunch room and through the double doors and into the hall. The bell for first period rang and I wondered if I would get in trouble for being late. Of course, I wasn't going to first period. I was going to the 'office'.
"Quit sniffling like a baby," Mr. Phelps said. "Rob told me everything that happened. You'll be lucky to get off with detention."
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Oh, the injustice. I put my head down and fell into my sorrow and shame. You see, don't you? Rob told them I started it, trying to take his money. It was only the superior wrestling skills our own Mr. Fox taught Rob that kept him from getting beaten up and his money stolen. Yeah, right. I was the puniest kid to grace those halls, ever. Yet, my head stayed down until later that day when I opened my desk in last period. Not only did my head pull itself out of the tar of shame, a smile touched my face.
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