And that’s exactly what happened.
In a split second, the door swung shut with a bang, but because it was so quiet in the hall, you could hear Branson striking something inside. There was a scrambling. I could hear some of the students asking her if she was alright. I looked at Jennifer and saw that she was still filming. I tapped her on the arm, she clicked off the phone and the three of us walked to the principal’s office, but not before Alex intervened.”
“Um, what was that?"
"What was what?"
"That door closed by itself."
"It looked that way."
“Do you know how?”
“No idea.”
"Something you want to tell us?"
"Like what? I wrinkled my nose and magically made it happen?" I gave him a look that suggested the idea was ridiculous. "Actually, for effect, I think she closed it on her own. She knew Jennifer was filming and she did something that would look off.” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I also don't really care. I just want to get to the principal's office and finally take a stand for myself."
I looked at each of them and knew they were trying to process what had happened to poor old lady Branson and also why my complexion and hair looked like something out of an Abercrombie amp; Fitch poster. They wouldn't know about the tooth. When my father punched me, he knocked me from the side and loosened a wisdom tooth, which became so loose, I pulled it out. Now, it was back. It felt good to have it back.
"I don't know," I said. "It was kind of weird, wasn't it?"
"You think?" Jennifer asked.
I smiled at her. "Maybe it was your phone. Maybe Mac has an app that takes down bullshit teachers."
At least that made them laugh. We kept walking forward.
"If they do,” I said, “I probably should look into that."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The meeting with Principal Roberts was brief and intense.
I told her why I was there, why Alex and Jennifer joined me, and then we showed Roberts the video of Branson in the classroom. To protect ourselves from whatever she might say later, we also showed her the video of Branson's door suddenly shutting and her being swept inside.
Roberts was a middle-aged woman with a motherly face and I have to give it to her-she handled the situation better than I expected, which gave me some hope that Alex and Jennifer weren't the only decent people left in the world.
"I don't know what to think about the door," she said tentatively. "Any ideas about that?"
We shrugged.
"It just slammed shut," Jennifer said. "You can see on my iPhone that none of us was behind it."
"I see that, but I don't understand why it would shut on its own."
"Maybe Mrs. Branson did it," I said. "She knew she was on camera. After what she pulled on me in that classroom, I don't put anything past her. She could have just yanked it shut to make people question it. But, who knows? I don't understand it myself."
Roberts looked at me and after a moment, her questioning eyes softened a bit. "Mrs. Branson will be spoken to," she said. "So will Mike Hastings. Right after you leave. I don't tolerate bullying of any kind in this school."
"With all due respect, Principal Roberts, I've never not been bullied in this school."
"You've never come to me about it."
"That’s true. But when so many teachers watch you go down time and again without stepping in to help, you tend to get jaded. Why would I think that you'd help me when none of your staff has? Nobody has ever stepped in to stop it. And if I can be frank, you must have been aware on some level what I've been going through for the past three years. It’s no secret."
When she didn't answer, I knew she knew.
"So, you see?" I asked. "You knew and yet nothing has changed. Today, I met a new friend in Alex. He gave me a little push. He gave me some confidence.” I looked at Jennifer and part of me melted when I did. She was beyond pretty. “And I met Jennifer, who saw what was happening and had the presence of mind to get it on tape when I was trying to reason with my teacher to make it stop. What that got me was a trip to your office. Pretty incredible, isn't it, that teachers can be the worst bullies? You know what really scares me?"
She shook her head.
"It's only going to get worse before it gets better- if it gets better. That's how it goes. If they don't tackle me here at school, then it will happen off school property. And there's nothing you can do about that. It will be up to their parents, who also will do nothing because they believe there's no way their precious child would bully anyone. Coming here was like opening Pandora's box. I am so in for it, I can't tell you."
"Then here is what I can tell you," Roberts said. "You go to the police next time someone pulls something. And as much as I hate to say it, I know you're right, Seth-they will come after you. But you do have that option of going to the police."
"What proof would I have if I did? People hate me here. I don't know why they do, but I can guess. Probably because I'm poor and because, yes, my parents are alcoholics. I'm the person who lives in the tin-can trailer. I'm the person who never has fit in. It's like I'm Kryptonite. If somebody saw someone take a swing at me, they'd say nothing because if they did speak up, they'd be targeted. They'd be branded as the person who snitched. That's how it works. With the exception of these two, nobody has ever taken a stand. I'm screwed."
"No, you're not," Alex said. "I've got your back."
"I appreciate that," I said. "But you're not always going to be there. Hastings will have his day with me. I can give you the names of two dozen others who also will have at me."
"Then give me the names," Roberts said. “I’ll talk to them.”
"And make things worse? I can't do that. There's no way you can shut down all of the people who have made it their life's work to make my life a living hell. And don't think I'm being melodramatic-I'm not."
"You're going to have to trust someone, Seth."
"I do," I said. "After today, I trust these two. After you've talked to Mrs. Branson, I'll know how firm you were with her and then, if she does find some compassion and does change, maybe I can trust you, too."
"I hope that's the case, because I plan to talk to her and Mike Hastings immediately."
In the silence that passed, I felt embarrassed. I'd never opened up like this to anyone. I felt exposed and uncomfortable. I just wanted to leave. "Anyway," I said. "I've probably said too much. I've gotten through years of this crap and I can get through this year. Then I can move out of this town and start a new life somewhere else.” I looked at her. “Do you mind if we leave now?"
She shook her head.
"Do I need to go back to her class? There's, like, another forty minutes left. I don't want to go back in there."
"I don't expect you to. Why don't you take the rest of the day for yourself? Go home. Let me talk to Mrs. Branson and Mike Hastings. We also have a teacher's meeting tonight. Believe me when I say that I'll be sending every teacher in that room a warning."
Outside Roberts' office, the three of us stood together. They were trying to be discrete, but I was aware of them looking at my face and my hair, and wondering what the hell I had done to myself to go from what they knew to what they saw now. I 'd gone too far. I should have been more subtle. What was I thinking?
"I appreciate what you both did for me today," I said. "It means a lot."
"Are you walking home?" Alex asked.
"Because you don't need to," Jennifer said. "I've got a car. It's not much, but I saved up for it and it runs. I'll take you home if you don't want to walk. I could ask Principal Roberts. She won't mind."
Alone with her in a car? I’d never spent much time around girls because none wanted to spend time around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Alex looking intently at me. Did he want me to take the shot and go with her? Or was he interested in Jennifer, himself? "Thanks," I said. "But actually a walk sounds good."
"You sure?"
I nodded. And truth
be told, I needed that walk. I planned on doing something on that walk. I wasn't looking forward to it, but it had to be done, regardless of the death it would cause. "I'll be fine-all of the beasts are rubbing their hands in here. Would you do something for me, Jennifer?"
"Of course."
"Can you get that video you shot off your phone and put it on a thumbdrive for me? I think I might be needing it if Branson tries to screw me."
"I can do that. I'll have it for you tomorrow."
"I'll pay for the drive."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "My brother's a techie. He won't miss it."
CHAPTER EIGHT
There are woods behind the school that, if you keep on the main path and walk along several winding miles, will eventually empty out near the neighborhood where I live.
And also where creepy Jim lives.
I needed to see if he was home and have a talk with him, but first there was something I needed to do if I was going to fully understand the amulet's power and the weight of responsibility that came from wearing it.
The day was bright and warm, so warm that I took off my light jacket and exposed my pale arms to the sun. The heat felt good. I ran a hand over my face and for the first time in years, what I felt was smooth, with just a touch of stubble. There were no swollen bumps, no pustules ready to pop-instead, my face wasn't the cratered valley of boulders it had been that morning. Now it was normal.
I ran a hand through my hair and was surprised by how smooth it was. I shook my head and it seemed to fall back naturally in place, which my hair never did because ever since I could remember, it had been a thick, wiry mess with an unruly mind of its own.
I wondered what my parents would think when they saw me, but then I checked myself because I already knew. They wouldn’t realize there was a difference. They'd be oblivious to it.
As I walked into the woods and started down the dirt path, I looked down at my thin arms and wondered what the rest of me would look like if I had a body like Alex. Or even Hastings. The temptation to transform myself was great-and I knew I could do it. But not yet, or at least not all at once.
How much was too much? How much was just enough? I was tall and skinny. I tried working out in my bedroom for years, but muscle proved to be no magnet for my body. In fact, it rejected it. With disappointment, I ran my hands down the length of my concave chest and flat abdomen. Nothing was defined-it was all skin and bone. I hated my body, but I knew enough now that transforming it would need to happen gradually.
And it would happen today.
I looked above me on the path. The trees were beautiful, swaying just slightly in the breeze. The sky beyond them was clear blue. The sun was strong and it dappled down to the forest floor. I didn't want to do what was coming next, but I had no choice.
What was the least-destructive route? If I was going to do this, how best to minimize the damage in the life I was about to take?
Ahead of me was a squirrel. It had seen me and already hopped from the forest floor to a pine tree, which it now clung to as it looked at me. It was cute and kind of funny. No way, I thought. But what I saw beneath that squirrel could work. It was a clutch of wild flowers. They were pure white and tall, with a few bees hovering above them. Soon, fall would turn to winter and these flowers would die back. Time was ticking against them.
And that time just ticked a little faster.
I went and looked down at them. You work it with your heart and with your head. I studied them and knew what I had to do to make this work, and so I imagined Mike Hastings' face on all of them.
I imagined the flowers calling me a "freak" and a "faggot," just as Hastings had today. I thought of all the shitty things he'd ever done to me and my anger rose. I thought back to last year, when he came up behind me in the library and shoved me so hard that I passed out when my head hit the floor.
I thought of the day that I fell in line behind him at lunch and had to sit opposite him. Over and over again, he told me what a worthless piece of shit I was while he threw peas at my forehead while the others laughed. He told me I didn't deserve to be sitting across from him. He said I should be dead because he was tired of all the dirty air I created.
And so with all this in mind, I looked at those flowers and said what I always said when he came after me. "Die!"
At first, nothing happened-the flowers were unwavering. They stood tall and were beautiful. But then, starting at the base of their stems, a darkness took hold as the stems started to turn black.
I took a step backward and watched the blackness consume them. It reached upward toward the leaves, which folded in on themselves, and then it fanned out to the flowers, whose petals fell off while their necks drooped. And then the stems themselves collapsed because there was nothing left to hold them up. It was over in a matter of seconds. What was once a stand of wild white flowers brightening this corner of the world was now actively liquefying into a gray puddle of rot at my feet.
I killed them and I had the answer I feared. The amulet was powerful enough to cause death.
I took another step back, where there was a large rock, and I sat on it. I was scared. I had no right to do that, but I had to see the amulet's limits for myself. And death was the absolute limit. If I got angry enough, I very well could kill someone.
I was thinking that I couldn't wear this thing any longer when there was a sound to my left. Well down the path, I heard footsteps crunching on the fallen pine needles. They were coming quickly, aggressively. I turned in their direction and saw the last thing I wanted to see-the pissed-off face of Mike Hastings coming straight at me.
CHAPTER NINE
The rock I was sitting on was tucked back in a small alcove. Trees and plants offered something of a shield. He hadn't seen me yet. He was about thirty feet away. His eyes were lowered and focused on the path. He looked bigger to me here. He'd also taken off his jacket and now it was apparent just how hard he worked on his body over the summer. He was no Alex, but he was close.
He looked fearless and imposing. He bulldozed up the path.
What was he doing here? Had he followed me? Was he looking for me? I couldn't be sure. I wanted to recede, but I'd only make a noise. Roberts said she was going to talk to him. Did she send him home? Did she expel him? What had happened between them?
He was ten feet away when he saw me, and when he did, the surprise on his face was unmistakable. So was the delight that replaced it. He stopped in the middle of the path and just stood there, looking at me. He cocked his head to the right and smiled. Then he did the last thing I wanted him to do-he looked down the path and around us. He was checking to see if we were alone and we were.
"What's up, faggot?"
My heart was pounding. I glanced over at the dead flowers and knew the threat that stood between us. You work it with your heart and with your head. If that was true, how could I best handle this situation. I didn't want to harm anyone. That's not who I was. Earlier, when I told creepy Jim that I'd like to see Jake Tyler fall and break his nose, I thought nothing of it. How was I supposed to know that Jim could make that happen?
"I asked you a question," Hastings said. "What's up, faggot? Roberts send you home, too?"
I didn't answer. I tried to keep myself calm, but it was impossible. He kept looking around us. I knew he was going to try something. It was payback time and he was going to make it happen and it was going to hurt.
"Roberts told me that you think I've got a problem with you. Now, why would she think that?" He took a step toward me. "Better yet, why did you tell her that?"
"You need to get away from me," I said.
"I need to do what?"
"You need to get away from me. Trust me. You need to step off."
"Or what? You'll run to Roberts? You'll tell her that we were…what? Having a little conversation?"
I could feel the amulet heating up against my chest.
"That I was nice enough to stop by and address you by your God-given name: Faggot? Is th
at what you'll tell her?"
Again, he looked around him. He knew we were alone. I knew it. He could do whatever he wanted to do to me and it would be his word against mine. I'd lose because I wouldn't have any proof. Unfortunately, I didn't have Jennifer's iPhone, though even if I did, he’d probably smash it.
Think.
I needed to do something that would scare him. I needed to prove to him that he couldn't touch me. I needed to create a diversion or do something else. It needed to freak him out. It needed to be enough of a show that he wouldn’t come near me again.
"You know," he said. "I’ve got a problem with what you said to Roberts. You got me into trouble for nothing. I think you should pay for that. I think you and I need to have a little understanding of how it works around here because apparently you forgot."
He took another step toward me. And another. His mouth was pressed into a tight line of hate. I could see him balling up his right fist. Again, he looked around us. Just a few birds flying above, the wind in the trees. Satisfied, he saw his moment and took it.
In a flash, he came toward me, pulled his right arm back and swung it down hard toward my face. As it came, I quickly held up my pinky finger and pushed all of my hatred of him into it. My finger either was going to break, or it was going to break him.
You work it with your heart and with your head.
It broke him. His fist collided with it and you'd think by the agonized look on his face that he had punched his hand straight through a concrete wall. He yelped and staggered back, toward the center of the path. My pinky was still raised. It was untouched. He stared openly at it and then looked down at his hand, which was smashed. "What the fuck!" he yelled.
I got off the rock.
"I told you to stay away from me,” I said. “You don't know who you're dealing with anymore. I will protect myself against you and all of your friends. I've had enough. And here's a warning-I will win every time."
Bullied b-1 Page 4
