Mean Little People

by Dearth, Paige

  Tony pulled a box of cereal out of the cabinet and grabbed two bowls. He handed one to Marco, and they sat at the kitchen table and ate breakfast in silence. Tony contemplated telling Marco about how Vincent and his friends bullied him, but he was worried that if Marco knew the whole truth, he would be too afraid to remain his friend. So Tony decided less was better.

  “We’re still friends, right?” Marco said, breaking the silence.

  “I guess so.”

  The remainder of Tony’s summer was spent playing with Marco and exploring around their neighborhood. In late August, their adventures had led them to the open lot between the two haunted buildings where Tony had almost died.

  Marco ran into the tall grass, but Tony froze on the sidewalk.

  “Come on, Tony. What are ya waitin’ for? Ya scared or somethin’?” Marco teased.

  “Googamongers live in there. My ma told me all about them. They eat kids.”

  Marco’s shoulders went up, and his eyes grew two sizes.

  “Googamongers?”

  “Yeah, they got big teeth and claws for fingers,” Tony said.

  “Aw, come on, Tony. Your ma was just tryin’ to scare ya.”

  “Bad stuff happened to me here a while ago. I ain’t goin’ in there.”

  Marco wanted to press the issue. He wanted to see if the googamongers were real, but Tony turned and walked away.

  Marco looked up into a window of one of the abandoned brick buildings. He would have sworn he saw someone looking back at him. A stab of fear ran through him.

  “Who cares about that stupid place anyway?” Marco said, running after Tony.

  By the end of August, Tony and Marco had forgotten about what happened with Vincent and his friends. The summer had been the best of Tony’s life. The two boys played and explored. They shared their infatuation with a couple of the young girls who lived on the block, but that was more to show off for each other. Before they were ready, the summer was gone, and it was time to start the third grade.

  “I can’t believe we gotta go back to school tomorra,” Tony said, while they were taking a break from playing war, a game where two enemies hid from each other and the first one to douse the other with his water pistol was the winner.

  “Yeah, I know. I hate school,” Marco said.

  “Yeah, me too. And I gotta see all those jerks again,” Tony said.

  “Ya know, Vincent and his friends ain’t so bad, Tony. Maybe ya should give ’em a chance.”

  “Nah. I hate those guys. They’re mean. Anyway, I hope we’re in the same classes. That would be cool,” Tony said, quickly changing the subject.

  Tony had butterflies in his belly that night knowing that he’d be back in the clutches of the bullies when school started the next day.

  Chapter Seven

  After Tony and Marco got onto the school bus the next morning, Marco proceeded to the back, while Tony hesitated and stayed close to the driver.

  “Come on,” Marco said. “There’s an open seat back there.” He pointed to the seat in front of Vincent and his friends.

  Tony stood still for a moment and then decided to see what would happen. Maybe if they like Marco, they’ll like me now since he’s my best friend, Tony thought.

  “Hey, Marco,” Vincent said.

  “Hi, Vincent.”

  “What the heck are ya doin’ back here, Bruno? Go sit up front wit’ the girls, ya little weasel,” Patton barked at Tony.

  Tony looked at Patton for an extended moment.

  “Take a picture, ya freak—it lasts longer,” Patton mocked, throwing a pencil at Tony’s head.

  Tony’s body went rigid. He suddenly felt nauseous. His instincts told him to get away from the boys quickly. Tony whispered to Marco, “We better go back up front.”

  As if Marco hadn’t heard what Tony had said, he plopped down in the seat and stared up at Tony.

  “Get outta here, lame brain!” Vincent yelled at Tony.

  Tony made his way to the front of the bus and sat by himself. It wasn’t long before he felt the spitballs hitting him in the back of the head. After the sixth one lodged itself in his thick mane, Tony turned around for a quick look at the boys, and when he did, he saw Marco laughing. Feeling betrayed, Tony stood up in the middle of the aisle.

  “I hate all of you. I hope someday people are mean to you. Then you’ll know how it feels,” Tony yelled.

  Vincent and the other boys laughed harder. Marco laughed halfheartedly but didn’t stand up for his friend. Tony’s face was bright red, and his hands were shaking out of control. He felt as though a volcano were inside of him on the cusp of erupting.

  Suddenly, the bus driver, a middle-aged woman, pulled off to the side of the road. Marge got out of the driver’s seat. She gently put her hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Take your seat.”

  Tony did as he was told, and then Marge marched the rest of the way down the aisle to Vincent and his friends.

  “Ya know, boys, it ain’t nice to treat people mean. Ya shouldn’t pick on anyone. I’m sure it makes that little guy feel real bad,” Marge lectured.

  “We ain’t pickin’ on him. He just started yellin’ at us,” Patton argued.

  “I know exactly what cha did. I have two eyes and two ears. I use all of ’em. Don’t pretend like ya didn’t egg ’em on. Now, just leave ’em alone before I report ya to the principal. Is that what cha want on your first day of school? I bet your parents wouldn’t like that, now would they?”

  The boys stared at Marge with blank expressions. She turned and walked up the aisle toward her seat. Marge paused and whispered to Tony, “Don’t let those jerks get the best of ya. No matter how scared ya might be, always make ’em think ya ain’t afraid.”

  Tony looked up at Marge. “I don’t wanna be left out no more.”

  “Sometimes bein’ left out is better than bein’ let in. Remember that,” Marge said.

  “Easy for you to say. Ya ain’t the one gettin’ picked on.”

  “You’re right. I ain’t. But I do know that when ya had enough you’ll do somethin’ that makes ’em stop. Let me tell ya somethin’ important: in life there are lots of lousy people. Ya got two choices when ya meet those kinds of jerks: eat or be eaten. I see that fire in your eyes. Be brave.”

  As Marge took her seat, Tony felt a small rush of power. For a split second, he felt free, as if all of his troubles had been erased. It was a great feeling. Tony hoped that he could hang on to the good sensation. Just like Marge said, I will be brave, he thought.

  When the kids got off the bus at school and Marge drove away, Patton kicked Tony in the ass, and he did a belly flop onto the sidewalk.

  “Keep it up, Bruno, and I’ll kill ya,” Patton said.

  Tony got to his knees and quickly stood up. He watched the group of boys walk away. When Marco looked back over his shoulder at Tony, he was laughing. In that moment, Tony’s sudden feeling of bravery turned to despair. The summer was over, and he was alone once again.

  Chapter Eight

  Later that afternoon, when Marco went to Tony’s house to play, Tony confronted his so-called friend.

  “What do ya want?” Tony said when he opened the front door.

  “To see if ya wanna play,” Marco said.

  “Why do ya wanna play wit’ me at home and then treat me like crap in school? I saw ya laughin’ with Vincent and the other guys.”

  “I don’t know. I guess I don’t wanna get picked on. I don’t want everyone to hate me like they hate you.”

  “Well, you’re a big ass, Marco.”

  Marco looked down at his sneakers with shoelaces from his father’s old work boots, flushing with shame.

  “Sorry, Tony. Do ya wanna play or what?”

  Tony considered his options. He could stay inside and do nothing or go with Marco and have fun. Giving in to his desire to feel normal, Tony followed Marco outside. They were playing dodge ball when Vincent, Patton, and two other boys walked up the block toward them.

  �
�What are ya doin’, Marco?” Vincent asked.

  Marco’s face turned blood red. “Nuttin’.”

  “Why are ya playin’ with the little mutant?” Vincent said.

  “Well…well, he begged me to play dodge ball wit’ ’im, and I figured I could hit ’im wit’ the ball real hard and probably knock ’im over.”

  “Hey, I like that idea—give me the ball,” Vincent said.

  Vincent threw the ball and hit Tony in the face. The five boys, including Marco, raced down the block after Tony, throwing the ball at him.

  “You jerks!” Tony screamed, as he gripped his bleeding nose. “I hate all of you. Especially you, Marco.”

  “Why don’t ya run in and cry to your mommy?” Marco screamed.

  Tony stopped running and caught the ball that Patton had aimed at his gut. Tony couldn’t take his eyes off of Marco. In the pit of his stomach, he felt his guts twist. The strong urge to punch Marco in the face was almost too much to hold back. He threw the ball at Marco, and it bounced off of his thigh.

  “Ya throw like a girl,” Marco said. “That didn’t even hurt.”

  Tony walked quickly back to his house as the boys yelled after him. He startled Teresa when he slammed the door behind him.

  “Tony, what happened? Why ya bleedin’?” Teresa said.

  “I don’t wanna talk about it. I just wanna be left alone. I hate everybody. I just want to kick all their asses.” Tony stormed up the stairs, intentionally slamming his foot on every step, imagining he was stomping on the heads of all the boys who made his life so miserable.

  Teresa followed him a few minutes later and sat on the edge of Tony’s bed.

  “Honey, ya can tell me what happened. It’ll be good for ya to tell someone.”

  Tony rolled onto his side, putting his back to his mother.

  “It’s the same ole thing, Ma. The other kids just give me a hard time.” Tony rolled over and faced her. “Now Marco is makin’ fun of me too.”

  Tony looked at his mother intently. Teresa’s face reddened, and her eyes glittered as if someone was holding a match against them.

  Teresa tried to hold back her emotions, but she couldn’t. “Marco is a little rat. He better not come knockin’ on our door again. I’ll give that little shit a piece of my mind and then walk over to their house and slap the hell outta his mother for raisin’ someone wit’out a heart.”

  “No, Ma. Promise me ya won’t do that. If he tells the other guys, then it’ll give ’em somethin’ else to tease me about. Do ya promise?”

  Despite her overwhelming need to set things straight, Teresa nodded.

  Teresa tousled Tony’s hair. “How ’bout if I make ya a snack?”

  Tony shook his head. “I ain’t hungry. I feel sick to my stomach, and my brain hurts.”

  Teresa felt his forehead to see if he had a fever. Tony pushed her hand away.

  “I ain’t got fever. I just wanna be left alone.”

  Even though all the boys had bullied him horribly on his first day back to school, Marco’s disloyalty had gotten into his craw and planted a knot of resentment.

  After Teresa left Tony’s bedroom, he lay flat on his back and put his hands under his head. He replayed the scene that had happened a short while ago, and his fury escalated. The muscles in his calves tightened, and his lips pinched tightly together. He’d been dealing with Vincent and his friends for years, and now he realized with certainty that Marco had become one of them.

  Chapter Nine

  It was Easter time, and Tony was about to make his First Holy Communion, one sacrament he would go through as part of being raised Catholic.

  For the special occasion, Teresa had made Tony a white suit. When he came into the kitchen, dressed for church, Teresa’s hand covered her mouth, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Look at you. You’re so handsome,” Teresa said.

  Carmen looked up from the bacon and eggs he was eating. “He looks like a faggot.”

  Tony looked down at himself, quickly becoming self-conscious.

  “Stop it, Carmen. You’re bein’ mean,” Teresa said.

  Carmen dropped his fork onto his plate and glared at Teresa. “Ya wanna start the day like this?”

  Teresa gave Carmen a worried look. “No, Carmen. I’m sorry.”

  Teresa turned her attention back to Tony. It was his special day, and she didn’t want Carmen to ruin it. “Tony, I left some flowers on the front seat of my car. I got ’em so you can leave ’em as a gift to the Virgin Mary. Run out and grab ’em ’cause we’re driving to the church in your father’s car.”

  Tony’s morning had started happily until his father had spewed his menacing words, like an angry fire-breathing dragon. Feeling defeated, Tony sauntered down the front steps, making certain not to scuff his new shoes that his mother had bought him. Teresa’s car was parked at the end of the block, and Tony walked to it while he played his father’s comment repeatedly in his head. All he wanted to do was rip off the white suit and go back to bed, hide under the covers, and never come out.

  When Tony reached the car, he unlocked the door.

  “Oh, look at the fairy in his white outfit,” Vincent’s voice shrieked. The voice ripped through Tony’s already dreary thoughts.

  “Leave me alone, Vincent. I make my First Holy Communion today,” Tony said, thinking that would mean something to him.

  Vincent sneered at him. “Ya look like an elf that fell into a bottle of bleach.”

  Vincent and his friends laughed, but Tony opened the car door. He wanted to get back to his house quickly. He reached in and took out the flowers. He shut the car door and turned around to face the group of boys.

  “Oh man, look at ’im. An elf with flowers,” Vincent teased. Then he hurled a stone at Tony.

  The stone, intentionally covered in mud, hit Tony in the center of his chest. He looked down at his shirt and suit jacket, which was now splattered with wet brown earth.

  “You asshole!” Tony screamed.

  Tony threw the flowers to the sidewalk and grabbed Vincent by the throat. The two boys hit the ground with a thud. Tony was on top of Vincent, and as his anger boiled over, he punched Vincent in the face over and over. Tony grabbed Vincent by the throat again and slammed his head into the concrete. Try as he might, Vincent wasn’t strong enough to overcome the power of pure adrenaline holding Tony’s body prisoner.

  Soon after the fight began, Tony felt himself being lifted off of Vincent. His eyes pivoted around him as he tried to focus. He was swinging and kicking as Teresa held him in midair by his waist.

  “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about pickin’ on Tony. Looks like ya got your butt whipped,” Teresa said to Vincent.

  Vincent was lying on the ground where Tony had left him, crying. His friends stood over him, all of them too shocked to say anything.

  Once Teresa got Tony back into their house, she sat him down and came back with a cold, wet cloth. She gently wiped his face off. Dressed for church, Carmen descended the stairs and stood motionless as he stared at his son.

  “What the hell happened?” Carmen demanded, assessing the condition of his son’s suit.

  “There was a fight,” Teresa commented casually.

  “Jesus Christ, Tony. Ya let this happen on your Communion day? What the hell is wrong wit’ ya, boy?”

  Teresa put her hand on her hip. “He kicked that little bastard’s ass.”

  Carmen almost smiled. “Oh yeah? Well…good! It’s about time. How bad did ya beat ’im?”

  Tony looked at his mother. He had no idea. All he could remember was being angry. Then something inside of him had snapped…the rest was a blur.

  “That boy is gonna have some bruisin’. I had to pull Tony off of ’im. He was goin’ wild, slamming the kid’s head into the cement and everything. Kid’s face was bleeding too.”

  Tony looked down at his hands…blood was on them. He had barely any memory of what he’d done to Vincent. The only thing he could remember was the ov
erwhelming urge to kill him.

  “Well, well, well,” Carmen said. “Looks like we have more to celebrate today than God. For once in your life, ya didn’t act like some sniveling little girl.”

  Tony glared at his father, resentful that the first compliment he ever received from him was swarming in criticism.

  Tony looked away from Carmen. There is nothing, not even my rotten father that can destroy my one and only victory.

  Chapter Ten

  After Tony’s fight with Vincent, the mean boys lost interest in Tony. Vincent and his gang thought Tony was nuts and wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. Vincent had a black eye and swollen lip from his encounter with Tony. None of the other boys wanted to get a dose of the ass whooping Tony had given to Vincent. That one act had shifted all the power, and because of it, Tony had spent the next three days at school worry free. He was even asked by some of the less popular kids to sit with them at lunch, but Tony refused. He preferred to be alone now. Yet, instead of eating lunch in the bathroom, Tony found a seat at an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria. For the first time, Tony didn’t mind eating lunch alone; peace had replaced loneliness, and power had replaced weakness.

  The following weekend Teresa asked Tony to run down to the local grocery store four blocks away to buy some items she needed. Tony had purchased the items and was a few blocks from his home when he noticed a kid sitting on porch steps up ahead. As he got closer, he could hear an older voice screaming from inside the row home. When Tony got to the house where the boy was sitting, the kid looked up at him.

  Realizing it was Vincent, Tony paused. “Do you live here?” he said.

  Vincent’s face was twisted, a mixture of fear and anger. He nodded.

  “Vincent! Ya dirty fucker! Get your ass inside, ya little bastard,” the older voice boomed.

  Vincent stood and walked away from his home. The screen door banged open, and a seventeen-year-old came rushing onto the porch. Vincent picked up speed and ran. The teenager chased Vincent to the end of the block, gave up, and walked back to his house.