the boy

writing kind of a story... my first attempt at non-poetry

I sit in the back of the classroom. Mr. Smith is talking about geometry again. Droning away. I'm not listening.
It's all stupid.
Sarah and Emily are in the front row raising their hands for every question.
Suck-ups. Brown nosers.
Brian and Megan are next to me in the back, holding hands. Everyone knows but they think they are hiding it. I just look down and grimace, scribbling in my notebook. Not drawing pictures, just lines. Pushing as hard as I can with my pencil into the paper.
 Brian is so stupid. Stupid jock. Who cares about football anyway. It's all so easy for him. Perfect body. Perfect girlfriend. He doesn't know about anything.
 Megan brushes her hair out of her eyes and catches me watching.
"What are you looking at wierdo?" She says, turning her head away with her nose in the air. She turns her eyes to Brian and he smiles at her. I look away but can't help noticing, she blushes. I wish she would blush for me.
"Josh, are you listening? Pay attention!"
I look up, check the problem on the board and quickly give the answer, annoyed.
So easy. So stupid.
"OK then. Good. That's right." I am left alone again. Pushing my pencil into the paper. Slashing at it. I push too hard and tear the paper, a big ragged line. I turn to the next page. There is already a line there where my pencil pushed through.
I hate this.

The bell rings.
Finally. Get me out of here.
"OK guys, page 36 is homework. Only the even problems. See you tomorrow. Enjoy your lunch."
I've already done up to page 60. I could do more but it's boring. It's all simple, my books at home are better. My dad is a teacher and he used to spend time with me, showing me how to do things. Now he is busy.

Everyone runs out into the hallway but I wait behind. Slowly putting my notebook into my bag and grabbing my novel. Stephen King. My favorite.
"Come on Josh, let's go."
Fine.

I don't go to the cafeteria. First I go to the swings. I love the swings.  I can swing higher than anyone in my class. I like to go as high as I can and jump off right at the top, grab the chain and try to let it carry me down so I can land on my feet. Usually it works. They used to call me circus boy, before they got mean. They would laugh and clap. Nobody notices me now. After jumping a couple times I get bored, and go to the steps by the tree where I sit and open my book.

Brian and an older boy, Cameron come over to play basketball nearby. The noise is annoying so I turn around and put my back to them, absorbed in my book.
They spot me and come over with the basketball.
BAM!
"Hey! That hurt!"
"What are you doing wierdo? Reading? Whatcha reading? Some dork book?"
There is blood running down my nose from where the basketball hit me. I can see the basketball rolling away and I watch it roll. The lines criss cross in an uneven pattern. It stops in a puddle nearby, water dripping down the sides. I watch it as it settles. I notice the pattern of the roll. It's fast at first, then the water catches it and it gets stuck. Slowing down like it's sucked back to the middle of the puddle; going in a spiral, smaller and smaller until it reaches the center and just stops. It rests.

"Nothing you would like. Idiots."
Brian pushes me down and grabs my book. I try to hang on but I can't. He is stronger. Brian wrenches the book out of my hands.
"You're the idiot. Wierdo. Why don't you just die."
Brian holds the book out and I try to grab it, but I can't reach it. Brian holds my head as I reach out jumping uselessly. His hands push into my hair, pulling it. Brian laughs and then he throws my book into the puddle, just to be mean.
"Hey! Why did you do that? Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Cameron laughs and pushes me.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Yeah what are you going to do?"

Megan is watching with Sarah and Emily. They are pointing at me and laughing, and all I can hear from their giggles is "Wierdo".
They are all laughing at me.
I look at my book, soaking up water. I go to pick it up and Brian pushes me into the puddle. I am wet. Cameron kicks me while I try to get up. Then Cameron pushes my face down into the puddle.
"Stay in the dirt where you belong."
He rubs my face into the pavement under the water.

The anger comes. It grows and I can't breathe. I feel the wetness on my clothes and my face, I look at the dirty water of the puddle I am laying in. I feel the sting on my elbow from where I fell and I see my ruined book a few feet away, just out of reach.
 I hate you.
 In those few seconds I am red hot instead of black and blue. I stand up, take a deep breath and straighten my back. I feel my fists clenching. They are turned away laughing and giving high fives to each other. I feel the red anger deep inside of me. It explodes and comes out sideways.

"Stupid Jerks! Leave me alone!"
I am crying silently but all fire as I hit Cameron. He is closest. I hit him as hard as I can. I don't feel the crack of his teeth on my hand. Cameron falls back and trips on the basketball...  he hits his head on the pavement, and he doesn't get up. I turn quickly to Brian, who is distracted looking at Cameron laying there motionless. I grab Brian by the top of his head  screaming in his face
"Leave me alone! I hate you!"
I take Brian's hair firmly and slam his head into the tree next to me. Vehemently.
I didn't even know I was strong enough to do that. Brian is as surprised as I am and stumbles away clutching his nose, bleeding and staggering. Megan is gawking and Sarah has covered her eyes, turned away. Emily is screaming.
I see the blood and take it all in. I look at my hands.
I run.

I go to the bus station. My school doesn't have school buses so I have to take the city bus to get home after school. Usually, I like this place. It is my place. There is a tree I like to climb while I wait for my #12. Today I just can't get high enough. I climb high, higher. I climb higher than I have ever been before. It's dangerous, I know. The branches are thin up here and wavering. I try not to think about anything. I just want to feel the wind in my face and listen to the leaves. It is safe up here.
I don't even have my book.

After a couple of hours I get bored and restless. I don't know what to do.
Maybe I can just go home where they don't see.
 I climb down and take my #12 home.

I get to my house and I see the cars parked in the garage.
This is weird. Mom and Dad don't usually get home until 6:00...
"Josh!"
Dad has seen me through the window. He comes out the door.
"Get in here! What happened to you. You're covered in blood! I got a call from the school? They said you beat up some of the other students? What were you thinking?"
"Dad I..."
"So it's true? I can't believe you!"
He grabs my arm sharply, it hurts. He pulls me toward the garage, not the door.
Mom is here now. She looks at me sadly. "We have to go to the school for a meeting honey. Come on." She pats my back but is crying and not looking at me.
I hate this. Stupid Jerks. It's all their fault.
The whole car ride I am sullen and silent. Dad is talking in a stern voice, telling me I 'am grounded' and 'in a lot of trouble young man'. Mom is quietly wringing her hands.
Like grounding matters. Like I have any friends anyway. Like anything matters.

The principal, Mr. Wolf, is waiting for us. 
"Hello Son. It seems you had a rough day."
He ushers us into the office.
I look down obstinately and see I still have blood on my T shirt. My hand is aching from where I hit Cameron and there is a cut on my knuckles. I stare at my feet and clench my fist tight, enjoying the pain. I squeeze it again, tighter, and I smile a little.
I'm just going to be quiet. They can't make me talk. They can't make me do anything.

All through the meeting my parents nod and the principal explains what happened from the other boys' perspective. I won't say my side. I am silent and brooding.
They won't even listen to me anyway. They don't know what it's like. I hate it here.
 I choose a corner of the desk where there is a scratch and I just look at it. I focus on it. I stare at it, not looking away. I will not look at anything else. I am slumped down deep into the desk and mean faced.
They can't make me look. They can't make me talk.
I squeeze my hand again to feel my sore knuckles, and almost laugh.

"I'm afraid the only way we can allow Josh back to school is if he sees a child therapist. I can give you some names."
Mom looks down at her hands, wringing them and crying again.
Dad says "Is that really necessary? Money is a little tight right now."
I feel this. I can't push it away. Dad is never weak. He is never like this. I don't like that my Dad is acting this way. I stare harder at my scratch, but I can't help the tear that falls down my cheek and onto my lap. I don't wipe it away.
Maybe they won't see.
They don't.

Just the desk. Just the scratch. Nothing else.
I clench my hands again and grit my teeth. I feel the pain in my hand and stare at my scratch but it's not soothing anymore. It just hurts. I want my pencil so I can slash at my notebook. I don't have it here, not even my book. It's ruined and lying in a puddle somewhere.

"I'm afraid it is. I'm sorry, but it's school policy."
"OK then, we can make it work. What are those names you recommended? How often does he have to go?"
"Here I have an information sheet for you."

It's half an A4 paper, cut raggedly by some lazy secretary. It is bright pink, and has DISCIPLINARY ACTION FOR TROUBLED STUDENTS written in big ugly letters across the top. I stare at the fringed edge, hating it, until my dad says
"Come on son. Let's go."

As soon as we get to the office door, I run.
I run as far and as fast as I can, down the stairs. I almost trip but catch myself on the railing. I go out the door. I might be yelling and I am definitely crying. I know the tears because my vision is blurry and this time I wipe them away with the back of my hand. I need to see to run. I go to the only place I know, the only place that is mine. I go back to the bus station, back to my tree. It's my escape. I climb up high and sit. I listen to the leaves.
I wish I had my book.

After a few hours it is starting to get dark.  Below, there is a homeless man walking by, asking for change, drunk. Some women walk by, laughing. I am miserable, scared and getting hungry.
Eventually, I give up, sigh... and and climb down. Sullenly I get on my #12. The bus driver gives me a funny look, and I remember that I have blood on my T shirt. I just look away stone faced and go to sit in one of the back seats.

On the bus I sit and bang my head lightly on the window, trying not to think. The banging makes a good distraction. A man in a suit sitting in a seat behind me says
"Could you knock it off kid?"
I glare at the man and give my head a good hard last bang.
BAM!
Then I stop and kick the chair in front of me instead.
What are you going to do about it? Yeah what are you going to do?

I get off at the right stop. It's my routine and I can't help it. When I get to my street I look toward home and turn around. I can't go there. My parents are waiting for me there. It's just more yelling and they don't understand. I'd rather be cold and alone than go there.

I go to the playground instead. I climb up the jungle gym. High. Higher. To the top. I sit swinging my legs.
It's all so stupid. I hate this. Stupid jerks. It's all their fault.
I stand up.  It's dangerous I know, but I don't care. I stand triumphant for a moment and then feeling reckless, I jump. I purposely land wrong and hit my arm and shoulder first. I lay for a moment, but it didn't work. My shoulder is scraped but it's not enough. I bang my head into the ground as hard as I can. Hard, harder, HARDER! It hurts too much so I cry for awhile. I stop and lay there looking at the stars, trying to think about nothing until I fall asleep. My head is in the gravel. I'm bleeding again and I can smell the dirt that I'm laying in.
Where I belong.

"I think we found him, sir!"
"Hey son! Are you Josh McCleary? Your parents are awful worried about you."
I sit up, dazed and look at the police officers.
"Come on son, let's get you home."
 I get to my feet not knowing what else to do. They turn around calling
"We found him. He was at the playground."
They are in front of me, walking away.
I run.
It's all I have left.
Just get away.

One of the policemen turns and sees. He is faster and catches me. I scream and try to hit the policeman.
"Easy now. Come on, I want to help you."

The man is so strong. He gets his arms around me and picks me up easily. He carries me the rest of the way to the police car that is waiting, flashing blue and red lights.  My struggles don't matter. I am not strong enough. They put me in the back seat where the door handles don't work. I yell
"Let me out! I have to get away!"
and I bang my head hard against the window.
Hard. Harder. HARDER!
"Hey kid! Hey knock it off! Come on now!"
I can't hear them. I push my face into the window and scream as hard as I can. It starts deep in my chest comes out from inside me. I can't hear it. I'm not red and on fire anymore but black and blue again.

One of the officers comes into the back seat and grabs me in his strong arms.  He holds me tight. I can't get away and I can't do anything. I can't move my arms and I can't reach my window anymore. I struggle but the man is so much stronger than me, holding me. I am crying and screaming; shaking, gut wrenching sobs. I am so tired and covered in blood. I don't even know who's blood it is anymore. My parents don't understand. I have nothing left.
Just get me out of here!

 The police man is steadfast and sure. He is strong and confident, like my Dad before he got too busy to notice.
"It's going to be OK kid. Hey what's his name again?"
"Uh... Josh.
"It's going to be OK Josh. Come on, I want to help you. Don't hurt yourself. Come on. It's OK. It's going to be OK. We're going to get you home."
Home. Like that will help. No one understands. I am all alone.
Somewhere along the ride I get tired of the struggling, the crying, and give up. He is strong. The sobs trickle off and I relax. I lean into this strange mans arms. I feel my head resting on the man's embroidered uniform and feel the man's gun digging into my hip. He is holding me. I am just a worn out little boy, I know. I can't help it and I fall asleep.

Reviews

[~*~Peace Keeper~*~]

This was interesting how you wrote this, I liked how it flowed it was unique. The only suggestion I have is to change it to first person, the way you wrote it here it seems like first person but it is not so it feels a little choppy to me, I think that using "I" instead of "he" would make it easier knowing that it is the main character talking, but that's up to you. You got some good imagery especially with the bloody parts. It is sad that some people have to go through this, being bullied and then not being able to tell their side. I almost can see this having a few more chapters to make it longer and know what happens to him and if he does get help and such and if his parents will finally hear him out.

Good Job

[RubyOmma]

Thanks for the constructive comment. I sure appreciate it. I think you're right. When I wrote it I wanted it to feel a bit detached, that's why I used "he", but it makes more sense in the first person and I have to learn to write for other people instead of for me. This was my first try at a story. I will change it. :) Great advice, thanks for the review!

[~*~Peace Keeper~*~]

You're welcome, you did a good job for it being your first story ^^

[Mayank]

This story is fantastic, I loved the way scenes are described. Although, we would have seen thousand times in a movie little guys bullied by seniors or any huge one, I loved the emotions that are holding the scenes. Even the scene where he just look at the table at principal's office, one can sit and feel what would be going through his mind!

[Jack Wolfe]

Hey, Joscelyn:

Okay, first off, It pains me to see any book, let alone a King book being treated this way; it brought back sorrowful memories of Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, (yes, I know the story’s about censorship, but all those innocent books!).

Okay, now that’s I’ve regained my composer, we shall move onto the review.

I like the fact that you insert your inner thoughts e.g. ‘I hate you’. It’s a good way to get inside your character’s personality; the thing is to find a balance, so far I have found no qualms. (FYI, I tend to make my notes while reading, rather than afterwards, in case this seems out of place).

You have a lot of characters and with the exception of your MC (main-character) they have no definition; understandable, it’s a school, a lot of kids, and the general census is they don’t like your protagonist - -the problem becomes they’re talking heads, ‘Megan, Sarah, Emily, Brian, Cameron’ who are these people? We know Brian is the hot-shot of the school; Megan is the girl he’s pining after, but other than that we know nothing, or why.

Mr. Wolf . . . why does the wolf always get a bad rap?

You have a good premise for a story, and the bully factor, and the psychological challenges that plague the victim have come to the forefront of the world’s perception . . . it is indeed a terrible thing, and often the victim, remains the victim, and in sadder cases only finds solace outside of this world. Your meaning behind this is great, and it becomes a testimonial about what’s wrong with today’s society; however, your message is clear, but your delivery is flawed, and its not because the story lacks meaning or relevance its because you ‘tell’ the story, rather then ‘showing’ it; allowing the reader to become engrossed with the MC, giving them a reason to care. Millions of kids get bullied, and they become statistics . . . in today’s world it becomes mundane, and to the desensitized heart it becomes, ‘what a shame, but what’s new’. I need a reason to care about this victim, a reason for me to feel sympathy, otherwise it’s just another day in a dog eat dog world.

You have several scenes, e.g. the horrible book trashing, where you tell me the events, but if you showed them to me they would stand out and enrich this story.

I hope this review makes sense. I’m a bit tired, and I tend to ramble. If you have any questions or comments feel free to contact me.

[Ashira Macy]

Fascinating and so sad. Adolescence is such a hard time for a lot of kids. With all of the hormones raging it is hard not to think that the whole world is against you. And then there is of course the bullying. Kids can be so mean. You did a great job of getting into his head.

[yuki]

veru nicely done rubyomma well written and penned :)

[Delmar Cooper]

Thanks for calling my attention to your story. I enjoyed reading this and thought it was well written and grammaticly correct, noting that a hunt for nits will always find a few. If I had any fault to find it might be in the length. The story seemed over long for the purpose and the feeling I got was that it could be done well in about 1500 words or so with any more being over kill.

The reader gets a good insight into the mind of the character by his actions and little is "told" that could have been better shown. That is an achievement.

[RubyOmma]

Yes, it is a bit long. It was my first attempt at a short story form and isn't great. To grow we have to just try and start somewhere? Thanks for the review, taking the time. I appreciate it!

[Delmar Cooper]

I might mention that if you continued this story into a longer form the length and content would be appropriate for a chapter. Assuming the characters and relationships introduced would survive into the longer, novel, novella, form.

[Woody]

this is so well written that I get the impression that either you were bullied when you were little or you have a fantastic sense of observation and a keen eye. either way, this is a very good story. your details are amazing. the thoughts and emotions of the little boy are well detailed. the story brought to mind Kenny Roger's song "Coward of the Countyy".
well done. I enjoyed reading this.

[RubyOmma]

Yes. I was a tomboy growing up. Had a buzz cut and told people my name was Josh. My real name is Joscelyn. Ruby is my dog and Ruby Omma means Ruby's mom in Korean. I live in south korea teaching English. 5 years now. Thanks for the review I sure appreciate you taking the time!