Change
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All he ever wanted was to change the world.
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The little boy zipped up his knapsack, which depicted his favourite Saturday morning cartoon hero, and proceeded outside where the rest of his class was enjoying recess. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, but that didn't necessarily make the boy happy. The sun always glinted off his glasses and made it difficult for him to see. Oh, he hated his glasses. The other boys in the class laughed at him and called him four-eyes. Sighing at the thought, the boy shuffled onto the playground to find his best friend, Rebecca. His older brother, who was in the third grade, had told him girls had cooties. But Rebecca was the only one who was really nice to him, and whether or not she had cooties didn't change the fact that she was his only friend. When he caught sight of Rebecca at the other end of the playground he felt anger well up in his chest and he began to stalk over to where she was; to where two of the boys who bullied him were playing monkey in the middle with Rebecca's favourite doll. Rebecca was the monkey.
"Hey!" he shouted as he marched to his friend's side, his tiny first grade hands balled into fists, "Give that back to her!"
"Make me, four-eyes," laughed one of the boys. His name was Andrew and he was as big as he was mean. With a chuckle he threw the doll back to his friend, Matthew. The little boy felt himself grow angrier.
"I said give it back," he warned, his voice low. The two bullies just laughed. That was the last straw. With a fierce yelp, the boy leapt forward, tackling Andrew to the ground. He heard the bully shouting protests and calling him names, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was Rebecca getting her doll back.
He hit Andrew many times, but not nearly as hard as Andrew hit back. He could feel searing pain coming from his lip and could taste a strange, salty substance on his tongue. Later he would learn that it was blood. It felt like an eternity before anyone intervened, all the teachers on the playground running forward to pull the fighting boys apart. He felt himself shaking as Mrs. Bryar led him to the office, a stern but understanding look on her face.
He sat there, holding a bag of ice to his swollen lip as Mrs. Bryar made the phone call. Rebecca sat beside him, her doll safely in her arms. He wondered what his mother would say once Mrs. Bryar told her what had happened. He figured that he would receive a 'serious talk' when he arrived home, followed by a few high-fives from his older brother.
"Hello," Mrs. Bryar had gotten a hold of his mother, "Mrs. Gordon, this is Jim's teacher. There's been a bit of an incident…"
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Well, thank you for reading. Please review and let me know if you would like another little piece. I adore Gordon and I would love to write more about him, and I will if people would like me to. Also, if there are any specific situations you'd like me to write about just post it or PM it to me and I'll write it for you. Thanks again! Cheers!
/Dani