Christopher Smith - Bullied

She didn’t know what was coming next.

“Isn’t it your job to make sure none of this goes on?” I asked her. “Isn’t it your job to keep order? Make peace? Keep us in line so we can do our work and do it well? Isn’t it your job to make sure people like me aren’t bullied? I’ve had you for a teacher for years and you never interfered when they pulled this crap on me or anyone else. Can you explain that to me?”

She was flustered, embarrassed.

"Explain it to me?"

"I owe you no explanation."

"You owe me every explanation."

"For what?"

"For standing there and doing nothing. For getting off on watching them take their repressed self-hatred out on me."

She pointed toward the door. “Go to the principal’s office. Now.”

“For what?”

“Insolence.”

“That’s an impressive word, but I haven’t been insolent. I was just called a freak by one of the worst, most morally corrupt people in this school. You heard it and did nothing about it. So, I’ll go and see the principal and here’s why-I’m going to question your teaching, your lack of morals and ethics. I’m finally going to let them know exactly how you’ve behaved in these situations since I’ve been coming to your classes.” I snapped my fingers. “Time for the curtain to go up on your teaching career, Mrs. Branson.” I snapped my fingers again. “And then, when I’m finished, time for it to go down on it.”

“Holy shit,” someone behind me said.

Branson came around her desk. “Get out.”

“You’ve got it.”

I started to walk past her and when I did, she grabbed my arm. “No one in this class heard or saw anything you're claiming.” Her eyes swept the room. “Am I right, class?”

Immediately, the majority either nodded or said, “yes.”

But when I looked over at Alex, he was out of his seat, gathering his books and coming to the front of the class, where he towered above Branson. “If he goes, I go. I saw what happened here. I’m backing him with the truth. To stop us, you can do this: Send Hastings to the principal, apologize to Seth and set the record straight.”

“Two against twenty is a losing proposition,” she said.

I started to walk out the door. “We’ll see about that.”

Alex followed me and as he did, I was aware of someone else standing. It was Jennifer Sanford, one of the few people who never had picked on me and one of the few girls I’d had a crush on for years because of her kindness and let’s face it, because she was hot.

As always, she was seated in front. She never had been popular or unpopular, the former of which was surprising because she was one of the most attractive girls in school. Still, probably because she wasn’t a cheerleader and didn’t participate in sports, she was one of the in-betweens-a person who was allowed to exist without interference.

Plus, a lot of the guys wanted to screw her.

“And where are you going, Jennifer?” Branson asked.

“With them.”

“You better think twice about that.”

“Actually, you better think twice about this.” In her hand was her iPhone. She pressed a button, held it in front of Branson and turned up the sound.

She recorded everything on video.

In horror, Branson looked at herself on the screen. She heard Hastings call me a freak. She heard herself say, “No one in this class saw or heard anything. Am I right, class?” And she heard herself say to Alex, “Two against twenty is a losing proposition.”

Now, her face was the color of the chalk staining her finger tips.

“We’ll be in the principal’s office,” I said as I walked out of the room. “Thanks for sending me there. It’s time to get a few things off my chest.”

The three of us walked down the long hallway in silence, which was odd for a few reasons. First, I can’t remember a time when I walked with anyone in this school. It just didn’t happen. People weren’t seen with me.

This was about as strange as it got, but in a good way, especially since I found myself walking with Jennifer, who I’d always wanted to talk to but never really dared. As nice as she was, what would someone like her see in someone like me?

Second was the school itself-while classes were in session, it was weirdly quiet. For the new school year, the floors were freshly waxed and, from the block of windows at the far end of the hall, the sun caught the gleam and tossed back.

Jennifer was at my left. She reached out a hand to me, which I shook. “I’m Jennifer Sanford,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Seth.”

I felt a rush. I could feel my face turning red. I returned the greeting. “Thanks for video taping that.”

“I can’t stand her. When I saw that you were finally going to stick up for yourself-and how you were going about it, which was genius because you never lost your cool-I knew it wouldn’t go well. I just snapped on my phone, put it on the end of my desk and pointed it at her.”

“Isn’t your mother a lawyer?”

“She is.”

“Then you’ve got it in your blood. That was nothing but instinct.”

Alex was at my right. I looked up at him and saw that he was pissed. “You were great in there,” he said.

“I’ll catch it from Hastings and his cronies later, but it had to be said.”

“That’s what I meant about my brother,” he said. “Once he stood up to them, they backed down. You’re on the right track.”

I smiled at him but sank into myself. I’m on the right track not because of any newfound courage on my part, but because I’ve got some freaky amulet around my neck that apparently can do a whole host of shit. Like get rid of the wiry kinks from my bush hair and swipe the acne off my face, revealing it for the first time in years. It also gave me back the tooth my father smashed out of my head. I felt like a fraud standing next to them. They thought I’d been brave, when really, I was only falling back on something powerful that I still didn’t fully understand.

I didn’t exactly know how the amulet worked, but I was beginning to have a feeling for it. When the day ended, I planned on practicing somewhere private to see if I could get it down.

We were halfway down the hallway when there was the sound of a door opening behind us. I knew it was Branson before I turned.

“Seth,” she said. “Alex. Jennifer.”

We kept walking.

“Let me explain.”

We stopped and turned. She was leaning against the door like a sack of potatoes shoe-horned into a yellow dress. Defeat was on her face. No sound came from the room beyond.

“I've changed my mind. I don’t want you to go to the principal. We can work this out ourselves.”

Jennifer lifted her iPhone again. She pointed it down the hall and started to record her. Branson eyed the machine, hating it.

“No, we can’t,” I said. “You made your choice. You chose me over Hastings, and I’m going to the principal.”

“That can be changed.” With the camera on her, she chose her words carefully. Her voice became light. “This is the new year,” she said. “Some things were said. I agree that I was wrong. Mike should be punished. Let’s start off fresh.”

It happened so quickly, I wasn’t aware of it happening.

Just looking at her standing there, pleading with us, knowing she was in the wrong and was about to beg for us to conceal what she’d done, was too much for me to swallow.

Anger bloomed within me. I imagined the door she was sagging against slamming shut-hard. So hard that it would send her flying across the room. So hard that she’d skid across the floor and smash her head against her desk. So hard that it would make a final statement-don’t fuck with me, lady. Leave me alone. Let me be.