Sunday, September 16, 2007

Bullied - Chapter 1

Jon entered the cafeteria, his nose instantly pummeled with the smell of grease and burning beef. His stomach turned at the smell. He scanned the rows of tables, looking for a place to sit, far away from the kitchen.

“There it is,” Jon said eyeing a chair by the stage. He made his move as the first few kids trickled out of the serving line. Just in time. He sat in a chair facing the entrance of the cafeteria with only the stage behind him.

He bit into his tuna salad sandwich. Not my favorite, but has to better than what they’re serving today. He watched kids walk their trays of trash to their preferred seats. How can they eat that stuff? My dog wouldn’t eat that garbage.

He watched kids enter the cafeteria and rally for position in line to receive their gut-bombs. “Lemmings. They are all a bunch of lemmings. Push one lemming off a cliff and the rest will follow,” he said to himself. He opened his baggie of chips. How do they make these?

Noise grew to a deafening roar as more kids wandered into the cafeteria and competed with others for conversation volume. Blah. Blah. Blah. Jon pulled a chip out and stuffed it into his mouth. All they ever talk about is their favorite band, who likes who or what’s happening at the mall. “How boring,” Jon said.

A group of boys walked into the cafeteria as Jon took another bite of his sandwich. Eighth-graders. Jon opened his thermos and poured some milk in the lid-cup.

Jon recognized the redhead in the group. He’d accidentally bumped into him in the hall before third period. Even then, Jon had recognized him, but couldn’t remember how he knew him. He sank in his seat and kept a watchful eye.

Jon stole quick glances at the group of boys. He wanted to take a good long look to try to place the redhead, but knew he couldn’t. If he looked too long, the boys might notice him.

The redhead pointed in Jon’s direction and the entire group moved in, following the redhead’s lead. Lemmings and he must be their leader. Jon took a big gulp of his milk. Even lemmings need a leader to be the first to jump off the ledge.

Jon continued watching the boys out of the corner of his eye. Please turn. Please turn. Let it be someone else. Please. The boys stopped across the table in from of Jon.

“Hey there,” the redhead said. “Remember me?”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t see you. It won’t happen again.” Jon made no direct eye contact and a lump swelled in his throat.

“You think I’m here about that hallway thing?” The redhead let out a chuckle and the lemmings followed his cue.

Jon looked at his knee under the table and put his sandwich down. Butterflies flew around his stomach. “Well, yeah,” Jon said. Why else would you be here?

“You really don’t remember me?” The redhead paused dramatically, looked at his lemmings and they grinned. “Well I remember you. I remember you real good. Three years ago you got my knife collection throwed away,” the redhead leaned over the table. Jon leaned away from him.


“What? How could I have anything to do with your knife collection? I don’t even know you.” It wasn’t easy for Jon to get the words out. The butterflies and the tuna in his stomach weren’t playing well together suddenly.

“Think hard about it, three years ago.”

Jon tried to remember, but couldn’t and shook his head.

“You told your teacher I pulled a knife on you. I was tooken to the principal’s office and my parents were called. I was kicked out of school, and only one day left. I had to go to summer school so I wouldn’t be held back.”

Jon tried to remember, but could not.

The redhead growled. “When my parents got me home they grounded me for the summer, I got a beating and my knifes was throwed away. I bought those knifes with my allowance and one was from my grandpa.”

Pain bit Jon's chin as the redhead gripped it with cold clammy fingers. “Look at me when I talk to you,” the redhead said as Jon’s face was forced up. Jon saw scrunched eyebrows and a gleam of anger raging behind the redhead’s eyes. The name David crept into his thoughts, slipped across his tongue and through his lips. Jon remembered. How could I have forgotten that?


**********************************************************

Returning from recess one late spring day in the third grade, as Jon walked into his classroom, an older kid stood by the door. Jon and Mike, a classmate, teased each other. Jon didn’t notice David until he spoke to Mike.

“Hey Mike. Is this kid bugging you?” David asked.

“Hey David. No he’s not bugging me,” Mike said, turned and walked into the classroom.

Jon turned to look who had asked. David was enormous. He was tall, with big muscles and was using a pocketknife to clean under his fingernails. Jon’s breathing accelerated.

David stopped grooming himself, grabbed Jon by the shoulder, and said, “You better not be bugging him. Understand?”
Jon looked at the knife at David’s side as he nodded. His heart pounded hard enough he could hear it as well as he could feel it.

David let go of him and Jon entered the classroom and walked up to his teacher. Jon waited for the rest of his classmates to come in. Mike, already at his desk, pulled his math book out.

“Mrs. Ewing?” Jon asked once the last person was in the door.

“What is it Jon?” Ms. Ewing replied.

“The fifth-grader standing outside the classroom door threatened me with his knife,” he whispered not wanting others to overhear him.

“Are you sure Jon?” she asked.

Jon nodded.

**********************************************************

“David,” Jon said again. The lump in Jon’s throat fell into his stomach. Two gags escaped Jon, followed by a tuna-milk-potato chip-bile geyser. The slop shot out of his mouth, launching his lunch like a chunky-fluid missile.

David tried to get out of the way, but not fast enough. He moved his face in time, but the vile flow hit him in the chest, decorating his neck, pea-green shirt and arms in a cream-of-tuna-chip soup.

Jon heard gasps and gags from nearby tables. David slipped on some of the puke and he reeled back. His arms flailed to keep his balance, throwing vomit from his hands through the air towards innocent onlookers, and he fell into one of the lemmings.

“Holy shit! What’s wrong with you? Oh man, it smells like shi… What the fuck did you eat?” David gagged. “You want me to beat your ass now?”

The urge to vomit subsided, but only for a moment. His cheeks warmed up as he felt embarrassment setting in. The butterflies returned. No, not again.

David stood up and looked at the front of his shirt, “Yeah, you remember alright.”
David lunged at Jon, and stopped a few inches from his face. “You owe me over a hundred bucks to replace my knives.” David looked at his short once more, then looked back at Jon. "And now you owe me a new shirt too."

One of the lemmings nudged David and said, “Watch it. Patrol coming.”

Jon looked past David’s face and saw a teacher, across the cafeteria, walking their direction. Thank god! This’ll be over soon.

David smacked Jon on the forehead with his vomit-coated hand. “Hey shit stain, did you hear me?”

Jon’s stomach began churning again. “I’m sorry that happened,” he said as he spat remnants of chips and tuna vomit.

David moved back.

“I didn’t mean to get your knife collection taken away, but…”

“Throwed away!” David yelled.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” the teacher asked.

David looked back at the lemmings and motioned his head in the direction of the approaching teacher.

Jon peered around David again. Hurry please! Two of the lemmings moved towards the teacher.
“If they was just taken away,” David continued in a more controlled tone, “That might mean I would get them back someday.”

David slapped the side of Jon's head. Jon felt the vomit drip down his hair and across his ear.
“You remember Mike?” David asked.
Jon nodded.
“Well he’s my brother. I was only giving you a hard time, having a little fun. You had to be a little fucking baby and go cry to teacher.” Jon remained silent.

The teacher dodged one of the intercepting lemmings and held her hand out causing the other to sidestep her, “Get out of the way,” she said.

“Sorry,” Jon repeated.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, shit stain. I promise you this,” David's voice lowered to a whisper, “you’re gonna pay for my knifes, then you’re gonna pay for this puke-soaked shirt. One way or another, you will pay shit stain. You are gonna pay.” David accentuated the last “pay” with a sharp poke at Jon’s forehead.

“Mr. Moore!” the teacher shouted. The cafeteria was suddenly silent. “What is going on here?” she asked David, crossing her arms.

“Let’s get out of here.” David said as he turned and walked away from Jon with the lemmings following close behind. The teacher, blocking their path did not budge.

“Mrs. Haden, if you don’t mind, I would like to go home.”

She still did not move.

“Look.” David pulled his shirt out towards her and gagged. “He puked on me.”

Mrs. Haden took a step back, moved her hand over her nose and mouth and turned her head. “Fine, go on,” she said, her voice muffled by her hand. She stepped to one side and David walked around her. The lemmings followed.

“Do you need to go see the nurse?” Mrs. Haden asked Jon flatly.

Jon looked around the room. Everyone stared at him. It started with one person. Then a second joined in. Then someone else join, then another and another. Before Jon knew it, everyone in the cafeteria laughed. His vision blurred as tears welled up.

When David and the lemmings were out of Jon’s sight, he grabbed his backpack and darted from his chair, out of the cafeteria and out the front doors of the school. The sounds of laughter echoed in his head. He ran home.

**********************************************************

Jon sat on the curb in front of his house, thinking about what had just happened. “Why did you have to throw up? You think you had it bad before? Just wait. Now “Everyone” knows you’re a wuss.” His head dropped down, hanging limp between his knees.

Jon felt a shiver race up his spine. I’d better go inside before I get sick. He stood up and walked up the driveway to the front door. Before unlocking the door, he thought, I had better go in the garage door. I don’t need to make a mess in the house, mom would kill me. He turned and moved around the front of the house to the side garage door.

Jon undressed in the garage and inspected his clothes for puke splats. “I don’t believe it”, he said as he tossed his clothes in the dryer. “Not a spot.”

He walked in the door and tiptoed through the house. Don’t need to wake dad up.

Jon brushed his teeth and washed his hands and face. He dried and combed his hair. Nothing can look wrong or mom is going to know.

Okay, all that is left is to wait for my clothes to dry. He checked everything again.

Jon felt a gurgle in his stomach. I need to eat something, he thought. He went to the kitchen and prepared himself some peanut butter and jelly on saltines for a snack with a cup of apple juice.
Jon heard the dryer buzz. He fetched his clothes from the dryer and put them on. With snack in hand, he headed to his room. He walked in, sighed and said, “Home sweet home.”

He put the snack and juice on his nightstand and looked around the room. Make it look normal. Jon walked to his toy box, pulled his Lincoln Logs out, and poured them into a tidy pile on the floor.

He walked over to his bed sat on the edge, opened the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out a book. “Okay Mr. Merrick, let’s see what happens to you,” he said looking at the cover of the “Elephant Man”.

He looked at the clock. Two and a half hours, I might just be able to finish this before mom gets home. He grabbed a cracker off the plate, scooped a glob of peanut butter and jelly onto it and stuffed into his mouth. He opened the book to the dog-eared page and tried to put the memory of the day’s events behind him.

**********************************************************

Jon heard the garage door opener strain the door open. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. Four o’clock. “Oh, only a few pages left,” he said. He dog-eared his place in the book and put it back in the nightstand drawer. He crawled off his bed to the floor.

Keep things normal. He began playing with his Lincoln Logs.

He heard the garage door opener churning again, differently than before, this time closing the door and his stomach knotted up. I hate lying to mom, but I have no choice. She can’t find out about today.

“Jon, are you here?” His mom asked. Jon snapped his head up away from his thoughts.

“Yeah mom, I am in my room playing,” Jon responded, his voice shaking. Calm down.

“Why is the garage floor all wet?” The knot in his stomach tightened as he fumbled for an answer.

Don’t wait too long, or she’ll know something happened. Nothing came to him. His breathing quickened.

“Jon?”

Unable to think of anything else, he got up from the floor and walked to the kitchen where his mom stood. She was sorting the mail with her back to him. He tried walking past her to the garage door. Get past her, clean it up and she will forget. He made a move for the garage door.

“Jon?” his mom repeated as she turned to face him. “Why is the garage floor all wet?”

Jon turned and said the first thing that came to his mind. “When I was coming home from school, a car drove past me and splashed me with a puddle. I was all wet, so instead of coming in the front door and make a mess on the carpet, I came in through the side door of the garage.”

“The city needs to do something about those damn drains backing up.”

She believes me.

“Well how did your clothes get dry?”

“Only the bottoms of my pants and my shoes got wet.”

“Okay, but how did they get dry?” she asked again.

“I, ah… I put them in the… dryer.” He couldn’t make eye contact with her, he knew how she would react to this.

“Jonathon Michael Turnball!”

His head lowered.

“You know better than to run the washer or dryer. How many times have we told you not to mess with those things? How many times?”

“A lot,” he said. He was in trouble, but at least she didn’t suspect he was lying.

“Exactly! Next time just leave your damn clothes in the utility sink and put something else on. Understand?”

“Yeah, sorry mom. I’ll go clean it up,” Jon said.

“Just go to your room. I’ll take care of it before someone slips on it.“

Jon went back to his room and sat on the floor. He picked up his Lincoln Logs and put them away in the closet.

“Jon,” his mom called from the living room, “Where’s your coat?”

My coat! Oh man, I forgot my coat at school. He replied, “I forgot to get it from my locker after school.” Jon walked out to the coat closet where his mom was standing.

She looked at him. “It’s been pouring all day long. How could you forget your coat?” His mom said. He could hear the anger in her voice.

A door opened down the hall. “What the hell is going on?”
Oh man, Dad is up.

His mom turned towards the hall. “Nothing, just go take a shower I’ll have dinner ready when you get out,” his mom said.

“Okay.” His dad said. The door closed.

She turned her attention back to Jon. “Well?”

“I was in a hurry to get home.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to get my homework done so I could play with my Lincoln Logs.”

“You got your books from your locker but forgot your coat?”

Jon’s heart swelled into his throat. “I had all my books already. I got them before my last class. I didn’t think about my coat then, cause I still had one more class. I’m sorry, I won’t forget again.”

“I don’t know what to do with you,” his mom said shaking her head.

Oh man, here it comes, Jon thought. He looked at the red carpet between his feet.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that it is attached to your neck, I swear,” you would forget your thick head sometimes. “You need to be more,” responsible, “Jonathon. Stop and think before you act. You’re eleven years old and” its time you start acting like it.

Jon nodded, “Okay.” He knew the speech. He had heard it a thousand times before.

“That coat better be here tomorrow or you will be grounded to your room for a week. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now go clean your room. I’ll call you for dinner.”

**********************************************************

Jon left his house just in time to hear the first warning bell from the school. Good. Everyone will be in class before I get there. It wasn’t raining, which made his walk to school a little less miserable.

He walked the two-blocks to school at a slow pace, counting the cracks in the sidewalk. He knew how many cracks there were and even where they were, but counted them just the same.

One Hundred and sixteen, Jon’s neck tightened. One hundred and seventeen, His stomach cramped with a hundred knots…One hundred and eighteen, his heart thudded against his chest. One hundred and nineteen, he fought to breathe normally.

Jon stopped, looked up and peered through the glass doors of the school. A few people sprinted through the hall trying to beat the tardy bell.

“Hey there shit stain,” a voice sounded.

Jon flinched. Robyn. He turned and confirmed it. Robyn Woodard stood six inches taller than the other girls in his class did and could kick the crap out of most the boys in the next grade up. She lived across the street in the low-income apartments known by locals as “The Zoo”.

“Nice job repainting the cafeteria yesterday,” she said still moving towards Jon, throwing her cigarette on the ground and blowing a lung full of smoke into the air.

Jon tried to step out of her way, but stumbled over his own feet.

“Get out of my way,” Robyn said as she shoved him.
Jon was already on his way down but Robyn's little shove made the fall even worse. Jon fell on the rough concrete and winced as he skinned his elbow.
“Careful shit stain, you might hurt yourself,” she said with a laugh. She opened the door and walked in. Jon could still hear her laughing as the door closed again.

Jon sat up and looked at his elbow. Skin was missing and blood started seeping to the surface. Robyn’s smoldering cigarette burned on the ground next to him. A white-gray cloud of smoke billowed from the red ambers into his face.

He shook his head back in forth, “I can’t do this.” He picked himself off the ground, and started walking home. Suddenly his mother’s voice sounded in his head.

That coat better be here tomorrow or you will be grounded to your room. Do you understand me?

Jon turned around and headed to the front door.