caught on, Bundy plunged his face down into his bowl, splashing soup across the table. Danny thrashed his arms, gasping, and his friends stepped back.
As far as learning experiences went, Cannondale couldn’t compete with the prep schools, but it did offer its own unique experiences.
Leaning down, Bundy hooked the fingers of his left hand around Danny’s belt and gripped the scruff of his sweater with the other. Danny coughed, spraying soup from his mouth and nose, his face red from the scalding heat. A lot of bad things happened in this place, but this was about to be a new low.
Flexing his arms, Bundy dragged Danny out of his wheelchair and lifted him high above the table. Danny shrieked and waved his arms wildly, his bony legs twisted and hanging limp. Bundy carried him away from the table and, with a grunt, heaved him as far as he could throw him. His half-lifeless, half-flailing body thumped against the wall and collapsed to the floor with his legs folded awkwardly under him. He gasped and wiped his nose, smearing blood on his hand.
Two tables away, Fink buckled over laughing, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his leather jacket. Kyle glanced down at Danny and blew gently into the flame of his lighter.
With a low groan, Danny rolled over and dragged himself across the floor on his hands and elbows, smudging a trail of blood across the linoleum. With the desperation of a wounded animal, his gaze flicked from student to student at surrounding tables, and one after another, students looked away. Anyone with a will to live wouldn’t make themself part of this.
Still gazing at her phone, Brittany Ryerson yanked another long strand from her scalp and dropped it on Danny’s back as he heaved himself past their table in a limp-legged commando crawl.
Gordie held the sides of his chair like he was about to get up. “Someone needs to help him.”
“And end up like him?” Raj asked.
“It’s survival of the fittest here,” I said. “Like in biology class. You don’t interfere with that.” I felt bad for Danny, but if I stepped in every time someone needed help, I’d be the one in a wheelchair.
Gordie swallowed hard. “But he can’t…”
Looking satisfied, Bundy lifted his tray and lumbered toward Kyle’s table. With a nod, he put the tray down and lowered his fat ass into the chair next to Fink.
“Is it true Bundy can’t speak?” Gordie whispered.
“Supposedly something happened when he was a kid,” I said, “but I doubt he has anything worth a damn to say.”
“I wish he’d say something. It’s creepy.”
Fink’s voice cut through the cafeteria again. “Hey Dodgeball, it’s time. Bring yo’ fingers over here.”
This was about to go down. Gordie was going to eat shit, and I would too for sitting with him.
“Let’s go,” Raj said. “I don’t want to be here when they get punchy and kicky.”
The squeak of a nearby chair sent a chill through my gut. Bundy’s chair was out from his table, and Kyle was speaking into his ear. Nodding, Bundy stood and stepped into the aisle, wiping his hands on his pants.
“He’s leaving,” Raj said.
Bundy turned to us and deadpanned, staring through us like a mental patient doped up on meds.
“He’s not leaving,” I said.
Slowly at first, Bundy started toward us, his enormous arms hanging unnaturally at his sides. His huge gut swayed with each lumbering step as he approached our table and moved in behind Raj. Leaning down, he spread his banana-sized fingers around Raj’s head. Before Raj could get clear, Bundy drove his hand down hard, plunging Raj’s face into his meatballs and splashing bolognese sauce across the table. Raj grunted and thrashed, grappling with the giant bear-paw on his head.
Across the table, Gordie sucked shallow breaths through gritted teeth. He stood from his chair and clenched his shaking fists. “Leave him alone!”
The low rumble of voices in the cafeteria turned to silence.
Standing up took guts, but this was like bait to a shark. As far as Gordie’s tough guy act went, his short, wheezing breaths and sinking shoulders weren’t going to win him any Oscars.
Bundy looked up and down Gordie’s tiny body. Releasing Raj’s head, he lunged across the table and gripped Gordie’s cardigan. His eyes flicked to Kyle, like a guard dog waiting for the attack signal.
Kyle didn’t even draw breath. “Drop him.”
The color drained from Gordie’s face, and two hundred students stared wide-eyed.
Bundy flexed his arm and lifted Gordie off the floor by his cardigan. Cutlery and plates crashed as Bundy dragged him across the table and dropped him onto the floor next to his feet. Gordie rolled into a tight ball.
Two tables away, Kyle snapped the lid back on his Zippo and swung his feet off the table. Next to him, Fink scrambled off his chair and raced over to Gordie, his thin lips peeling back over yellow teeth as he laughed like a hyena on helium. The wide eyes of a frightened child stared up at him from the floor. Crouching, Fink grabbed a handful of Gordie’s hair and dragged him across the floor, squeezing tight as Gordie grabbed and tore at his wrists. After dragging him ten feet, Fink released his grip and pressed the heel of his steel-toe boot to Gordie’s mouth.
There are no good options when you’re on the ground. Some kids stay down; it might get them out of trouble for a while, as long as they don’t mind being a punching bag for every thug in a ten-mile radius. Others get up and fight. My old man told me to never start a fight, but to always finish one. It took me till sophomore year to realize he was clueless. Bullies choose targets carefully, they don’t take risks, it’s never fair, and it doesn’t end well for the kid they beat up. They’re just a crap-ton of asshole preying on the weak for sociopathic kicks. When a bully starts a fight, the victim almost never gets to choose how it finishes.
Anger washed over me. Gordie wasn’t even trying to defend himself, and that did nothing to make Fink stop. This wasn’t just a schoolyard scrap; it was about to become the brutal act of a sociopath. My heartbeat pulsed through my neck as I struggled to hold back.
Raj pressed his hand to my shoulder. “It’s not worth it.”
Something inside took over. In a fair fight, I wouldn’t stand a chance against Fink, which is why he wouldn’t expect what he had coming. Moving slowly, I stood and walked over to him, slipping one arm out of my jacket and then the other. Without warning, I threw my jacket over his head, punched him twice in the face, slugged him hard in the stomach, and kicked him onto the table.
The cafeteria erupted.
I never worried about fighting clean – it was only good if you wanted to feel big about your honor while some psycho gouged your eyes.
Climbing off the table, Fink wiped a trickle of bright blood from his nose and flicked it on the floor. They say once you hit a bully, he’ll leave you alone, but I’d been here long enough to know it didn’t work that way.
Bundy lunged at me, his massive frame shading the ceiling light. He swung his fist at my face, and I stepped back, his knuckles grazing my brow. Raj charged at him shoulder first and collided with his chest, brought to a dead stop with the sickening force of a steel column. Raj staggered back, clutching his shoulder and moaning.
Bundy lazily raised an eyebrow. Clenching my fist, I threw the weight of my entire body at his nose. With a sickening crack, bone crunched against bone and his nose collapsed under my knuckles.
Dozens of students dragged tables out of the way and moved into a circle around us. A heat spread over my face as blood streamed out of Bundy’s disfigured nose. A guttural moan came from his throat as he wiped his nose, smearing blood across his cheek.
Fink and Kyle stepped in beside him, examining the carnage on his face. They’d seen a lot of blood in their time, but never from one of their own, and a broken nose was unheard of. Fink tightened his lips, trying not to laugh, and Bundy turned his gaze to me and stepped closer, snorting hot breath onto my face.
At the front of the cafeteria, a deep voice boomed, “Break it up!” Can
nondale’s gym teacher, Delroy Peterson, strode toward us gripping a baseball bat with both hands. His gray afro bobbed as he stepped between us and aimed the bat at Bundy’s face. “Enough!” He gritted his teeth. “Damn animals.”
Air whistled through Bundy’s crooked nose. The bell rang and the cafeteria erupted into a chair-squeaking free-for-all.
Delroy nudged my chest with the end of his bat. “Get out of here.” His eyes darted about like he was too pissed off to know where to look.
Gordie hadn’t moved since he curled up on the floor. It might work for animals, but playing dead wasn’t going to work here. I picked up his glasses and lifted him to his feet. With my hand on his shoulder, we made our way toward the door, past the staring freshmen, seniors, skaters, stoners, geeks, goths, emos, jocks, and cheerleaders.
Raj ran up behind us. “What the hell was that? Are you stupid?”
A tear ran down Gordie’s cheek. His hands shook as he wiped his face. He’d been miserable for the short time I’d known him, but I’d never seen him turn on the waterworks.
“You okay?” I asked.
He stared into the distance with glazed eyes, ignoring me, or not hearing me.
Behind us, Fink touched the tip of his finger to the blood dripping onto Bundy’s shirt. Next to them, Kyle stared at me, tilting his head to one side.
3. Lay Your World on Me
For nearly forty minutes, I sat alone in an empty classroom, picking, scratching, and rolling the label of
Killer of Giants Page 3
