Bullying Narrative (for lack of a better title)

Fiction Assignment for school

 

I was thirteen and my heart wasn't in the right place. My dad had passed away and my mom was in jail for robbery. I lived with my aunt and my two bratty cousins. It seemed like my life would never be complete.

        One day I was walking down the hall of my dingy middle school shoulders back, chin up, and back straight. Although I looked typically confident, I wasn't. I was scared inside, scared people wouldn't like me. As the new girl walked by me I had an idea, I could gain power by making others look weaker. “ Hey you!” I hollered. She pointed at herself questionably. “Yeah YOU, loser!” People crowded around us. As I yelled put downs and insults. People laughed and all smiled at me. It felt great, except for one little ache coming from deep inside.

            That ache got bigger, as I began to bully the new girl, June Bellows, everyday. Eventually the ache became so painful when I bullied it was more painful for myself than anyone else. I couldn't bear it, so on March 19, 1986 at lunch I ran to the counselor/adviser's office and admitted everything I put this girl through. I had put her not only through verbal bullying, but also physical bullying. I had slapped this girl, and kicked her. I was cruel and cynical.

           The counselor suggested to my aunt I transfer to a different school where I wouldn't have to deal with the guilt. My aunt said I could stay for the remaining duration of the year and then I would go to a different school. For the rest of my eighth grade year I faded into the background. No longer was I known as Alicia the tough. I was just that chic over there at her locker or to the teachers, Ms. Adams.

           The next year I was transferred to a boarding school for troubled girls in New Jersey. As miserable as it might seem,it wasn't that bad. Other girls like me were there, girls I could relate to. I made new friends and was careful not to harm anybody. I became involved in a creative writing club and a group of students who have lost a loved one. I began to feel more like myself and not a girl who exploited others.

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I am now thirty eight years old. I am married and have four children. I preach to my children that bullying is something you will regret forever and no one will ever forget. I know this, especially after today, I went to my grade school reunion. I wasn't going to attend, but my husband insisted. They assigned you to a table of your former classmates to eat and chit chat. I recognized the ones I sat with, but didn't make an effort to socialize with them. I was seeking someone else out in the crowd. Someone by the name of June Bellows. I had to apologize, although I knew I could never fully make up for it I had to at least let her know how sorry I was.

      As I searched the crowd, the woman next to me asked who I was looking for. “June Bellows...”I mumbled. The lady looked at me like I was a lunatic. “ What? There was a June Bellows correct.”

          “Yes I am just surprised, you aren't avoiding her out of shame for the way you treated her.” she said to me. I just shook my head in shame and continued to search the crowd. “ But if you really need to find her, she is tall, brown hair, brown eyes, and is wearing a blue shirt and a black skirt.” I nodded a quick thank you.

               Finally, I found her standing by the refreshment table. “June.” I mouthed. She crooked her head indicating I looked familiar, but she couldn't quite remember me. “ My name is Alicia Adams and I came to apologize. I'm sure you remember the way I treated you. I hurt you and ridiculed you. I know I can never make it up to you, but I am truly and utterly sorry.”

           “ I remember, eighth grade was terrible, but it made me stronger. I accept your apology and also want to say thank you. Not only for apologizing, but for talking to someone and stopping yourself.

            I nodded. I couldn't speak, not only was this girl scarred deep down, but I could still see the bruises and she wasn't the only one who was scarred. I was too.

Reviews

[Gaelle]

This is under the 'fiction' category but it is quite baffling how utterly real it feels as one reads the negative sentiments of the narrator. Some syntaxes could be improved however, overall, it evokes strong emotions.