Christopher Smith - Bullied

I didn’t want to be late. There was nothing worse than walking into a classroom when class was in session-all eyes suddenly were on you. I checked my watch and knew I could make it. I hurried to the woods behind my house and, with a little boost from the amulet, I ran faster than I ever had.

I made it with a few minutes to spare.

I went to my locker, dropped off the books I didn’t need, grabbed a few others I did need, shut the door and spun the combination lock. I turned to leave for my homeroom-and there it was.

Everyone in the hallway was looking at me.

Some were trying to be discrete, but others were flat-out staring at me and there was no question that what I saw on their faces was confusion. I swung my backpack over my shoulder and walked through the crowd, expecting the typical jeers, but they didn’t come.

At least not immediately.

I was about to enter my homeroom when Jake Tyler, he of yesterday's broken nose and boo-hoo crying jag, came up beside me and blocked the entrance with an outstretched arm. “How’s it going, roid boy?”

I looked at his arm, then up at his swollen nose. “Let’s put it this way-things are way better than what's going on with that blob of a schnoz of yours.”

There was a flash of genuine surprise on his face. I’d never stood up to him before. “What did you just say to me?”

“Your nose,” I said, loudly enough so people could hear me in the room beyond. “It looks like shit. Are they going to try to straighten it, or are you going to be stuck with a hooked nose and be permanently disfigured?” I put my hand on his arm and pushed it down so I could pass. “Excuse me,” I said.

Every eye was on me as I entered the room. It was like I was an alien. Or that I had some secret-op doppelganger who had taken my place. I looked quickly for Hastings and saw that he wasn’t here. Neither was Jennifer, though Alex was. And then, by the expression on his face, I knew I was in for it even before Jake Tyler lifted his books and slammed them down hard on top of my head.

I went down like a ten pin, my backpack spinning across the floor. I heard laughter, but as I blinked in an effort to pull myself together, I also was aware of feet rushing toward my backpack and a hand reaching down to pick it up. I tried to will the pain away, but I couldn’t focus enough to do so. My head was splitting and I saw Alex coming toward me. His hand dipped and he helped me up. “Are you okay?”

I faked it. I tried to shake it off, but it hurt like hell. I felt the top of my head for blood. There wasn’t any. “I’m fine,” I said.

Alex looked over at Jake, whose face was flushed with anger. He was every bit as big as Alex, but unlike Alex, he felt the need to hold himself in such a way that suggested nothing could touch him.

Was he insecure? I couldn’t imagine it-he’d always been popular and he hardly was a disappointment on the football team-but that cocky stance didn’t lie. I wondered about him. In some ways, Tyler was worse than Hastings because he was pure stealth. Hastings was more showy-he liked to get in your face and get the crowd going-but Jake looked for opportunities and would only act if he was sure he was in the clear, as he was now. Our homeroom teacher wasn’t here yet and so he went for it.

“What’s your problem, dude?” Alex said.

“What’s it to you, bitch?”

“Keep your hands off him.”

“You his boyfriend or something?”

Alex laughed. “Some of you are so backwoods, it's a joke. Have you ever been out of this town? Ever been to a city? Because if you had, I think you’d have a different perspective. For some reason, and I can only guess why, everything is gay to you."

From the back of the room, someone said, “There’s a good reason for that. Did you see Moore’s trailer this morning? ‘A Faggot Lives Here’ is written all over it. Doesn’t get any gayer than that, buddy.”

So, the word was out.

Fine.

My head was clearing. I was able to focus. I turned to look at the room and, struck with an idea, I decided to go with it.

They were all staring at me, their smiling mouths and eager eyes waiting to see what would happen next. Some were taking in every inch of me, wondering about the changes in my body. I was not the Seth they remembered. I was changing and they knew it, but since they didn’t fully understand it, their natural inclination was to keep me down. Hammer away and hammer hard. Keep me in my place. Don’t let me rise above.

But that wasn’t an option anymore.

I cocked my head at them, glanced over at Jake, who looked as if he was about to have an aneurism, and then crossed my arms just as Jennifer entered the room. She looked over at me, tried to process the situation, couldn’t. Surprise was on her face. “You’re here,” she said.

“I am," I said. "And you should have seen my entrance. It was Biblical.”

“I just told Principal Roberts you’d be late.”

“Thanks for doing that, but I think I’m right on time.” I looked around the room and could feel the amulet growing warm against my chest. I leaned forward and as I did, it was interesting to see that a few leaned back. In a mere whisper, I said one word to all of them: “Boo.”

And with the exception of Alex and Jennifer, every one of them-including Jake, who was wearing a pair of khakis-literally started to piss their pants.

In the chaos that unfolded, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Garland, stepped into the room and then stopped just beyond the door as the wetting of twenty-six pairs of underwear got underway.

I stepped back and watched the circus erupt.

Ginny Gibson, certainly one of the most mean-spirited snots to ever enter the world, was up and dancing while urine ran down her legs and pooled in her shoes and beneath her feet.

She was wearing a bright orange dress that might have been cute if it weren't for the dark stain spreading over her crotch. Watching her, I felt nothing-of all the girls in school, she was one of my chief tormentors and had been since I could remember. Just moments ago, her laugh was among the loudest when Tyler bashed me over the head with his books.

And now she was peeing and dancing and screaming, while some of those around her either did the same or remained rooted to their seats. They were too embarrassed to stand and reveal that their bladders also had let loose.

I looked over at Jake, who was looking down in disbelief at the front of his pants, now soaked and clinging to his skin. When he looked up at me, I looked down at his pants and screwed up my face as if it was the most disgusting site I'd ever seen. He looked up at me and I just shrugged.

Mr. Garland, who was in his early thirties, came forward with raised hands. "Quiet!" he said. He looked over at Alex, who was standing beside me, and it was clear by how he addressed him that Alex already was being looked upon as a student leader. "What's going on here, Alex?"

He shook his head. He pointedly wasn't looking at me. "I don't know what happened. With the exception of a few of us, everyone just started to wet their pants.”

"Why?" Garland asked.

"No idea. It just happened."

And then there was Jake. "It didn't just happen." He shoved a finger at me. "It was him. He did it."

I looked at Jake with bemusement. "You're saying I have control over your bladders?”

"That's right."

“Okay, Tyler? I’m just going to point out the obvious. That’s just a pocketful of crazy right there.”

“The hell it is.”

I presented him to the class with a wave of my hand. "Everyone, I’d like you to meet the poster child for disillusionment." I looked at him. "It’s obvious you’re not well. It’s obvious that yesterday’s fall and your uncontrollable fit of crying did something to your head, let alone your nose. The fact that you actually think that I have control over everyone’s bladder is the funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks."