Christopher Smith - Bullied

“Maybe you’re no longer in puberty.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but I still should have been more subtle with the changes.

“Why are you out of school? They kick you out?”

“They didn’t.” I told him the story. And then I told him what had just happened with Hastings.

“You flew?”

“I kind of hovered.”

“Shit. Even I never thought of that. It’s a powerful kick, isn’t it?”

“Too powerful.” I told him about killing the flowers.

“Well, at least you didn’t knock off Hastings. That could have been a real mess. The red eyes were a nice touch, though-he won’t soon forget that. I like the leaves and the wind, too.” He reached down for the beer at his side and finished it. “Want one?”

“I’m seventeen.”

“So, what?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Jesus, you’re uptight.”

“When the world is coming after you, you think there’s an option?”

“Probably not.” He eyed me. “But already you’re different.”

“How so?”

“You’re standing up straight. Got some confidence. You don’t look like such a pussy.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s a compliment. Take it. With those pimples gone, you’re actually not a bad good looking boy. And that’s what the amulet is for-provided you don’t become one of them.”

“What does that mean?”

He lifted one of the cats into his arms. It was a fat, happy cat, probably loaded with fleas and filled with all the mice it could eat. The cat batted at creepy Jim’s nose and then it licked it. “You know what I mean. You’ve got to control that thing. You’ve got to pick your battles. Not everyone should go down just because you have the power to bring them down. You can use it for good, too, you know?”

“I’ve thought about that.”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “How you use it is up to you. Some situations call for violence and they’ll be necessary. But if you’re a thinking person-and I’m pretty sure you’re probably one of those-most situations can be dealt with without anyone getting hurt.” He scratched beneath the cat’s chin and flicked his eyes up to meet mine. “And without you turning into a bully yourself.”

“Isn’t being a bully going after someone for no reason?”

“I’d agree with that.”

“Then I wouldn’t do that. It’s not me.”

“Hope not. You’ve always been a good kid. It’s why I gave it to you-I was tired of seeing you get beat up. But people change, Seth. There’s light and darkness in that amulet. The darkness is stronger-it will come for you. And you’ll like what it does for you. You’ll get a rush out of it. You’ll feel invincible. Power is intoxicating. And that's right, power corrupts. You need to be careful with it.”

“How?”

“By not giving in to it. By controlling it. You need to decide how to use it best.” The cat jumped off his lap and another leaped up to take its place. This one was small and white, with a black mark between its eyes and dainty feet.

“What if I can’t? You know how they’ve been to me. You know what I’ve been through-at least part of it. I think I’ve taken care of Hastings, but there are dozens more like him. My biggest fear is that someone is going to jump me and my reflex will be what it’s always been. I’ll wish they were dead. And it’ll happen. How am I supposed to make sure that won’t happen?”

“Through training. Over and over in your head, you’re going to have to imagine that scenario happening and then figure out your go-to response for it. Needs to be like second nature. You’re going to have to train yourself to think of something else when that happens. And you need to start today. You’re going to have to train yourself for every situation you can think of-kids spitting on you, someone punching you when you’re not expecting it, someone calling you a name. You’re going to have to master how you behave within the element of surprise. Does that make sense?”

“I still could kill someone.”

He nudged the cat down and leaned back in his chair. He studied me. “The bitch of it all is that you probably will.”

“Then I don’t want anything to do with this.”

“Don’t be stupid-you need it.”

“I don’t need it.”

“You won’t get through this year without it.”

“I’ve managed so far without it.”

“And had what kind of life?”

I didn’t say anything.

"Look, Seth. You wouldn’t be the first person to accidentally kill someone with that thing. It happened to me when I was your age and it’s happened with others. It’ll probably happen to you-and then we’re just going to have to deal with it. We’ll clean up the mess and move on. You’ll learn from it.”

“You’re saying I’ll learn from killing someone?”

“I’m saying you’ll learn what not to do so it won’t happen again. That’s why I want you to train. Today, you’ve had a taste. He’ll, you’ve had a damn meal. Now, you need to find time to train. If you don’t, then you’re screwed.”

“Alright," I said.

“And one other thing. I know how you’re tapping into it, but there are other ways. You don’t have to get all pissed off for it to work. You can actually be in a good mood and it will work. You need to create a relationship with it so it responds quickly to your needs. Remember, I told you to use it with your heart and with your head. I never said that you need to be ready to chop off someone’s head for it to work. When you master it, it will work as an extension of your thoughts.”

“How?”

Jim reached down to pick up another cat. “Figure it out.”

But I didn’t want to figure it out that day. I went home, had a quick bite to eat, which in this case meant finishing off the bag of chips I found in my parents’ booze-ridden pantry, and then I went to my room and stayed there. As day stretched into night, I could hear my parents pass by my door as if I didn’t exist.

Sometime after nightfall, they turned on the television and cranked the volume to the point that it was blaring.

They were watching “Dancing with the Stars,” likely at the demand of my mother, who once thought she’d have a career as a dancer even though she couldn’t dance to save her ass.

Sometimes, when I was bored and watched the show with them, I’d see on her face a sense of excitement clouded by a kind of sad longing for what never was. My mother once worked at as a bank manager and she was good-fastidious, polite, accurate. But then the recession hit, she lost her job and somehow found a way to claim disability in an effort to keep the money coming in.

I will give her this-there isn’t a week that goes by when she doesn’t call her old boss at the bank to see if they are hiring again. At least there is a part of her that knows she can’t live like this forever. My father? Ever since he lost his job and gave himself over to the lower calling of the bottle, I’ve never held out much hope for him. Maybe he’d prove me wrong one day, but I doubted it.

I went to my door, locked it and then stood in front of the cheap full-length mirror that hung on the wall next to my closet.

I took off my shirt, my pants, everything but my underwear, and just stood there, looking at my joke of a body.

I was like a piece of thread, only thinner. There was nothing to me. I turned in front of the mirror and hated what I saw. I wondered what I’d look like if I had even a trace of muscle on me. If I had abs, stronger legs, bigger arms. I wore loose-fitting hoodies at school, so no one really knew what I looked like beneath the folds of fabric, though there was no question that I was skinny.

Still, if I was subtle enough over the next several days, I might be able to create a positive change.