No more…. No more…
He was fourteen years old. A freshman. What better time, in a person's life, to take advantage of the very way one trusts their neighbor.
No more…. No more….
A pair of scraped-up knees carried their weight across the school yard, past the picnic tables out front. The beige trousers he wore- part of school uniform- were ripped down one side, torn up in certain spots. Below the hem, a small trickle of blood, running from the knee, down.
No more…. No more… this isn't fair….
Once he'd arrived at his safe zone- the old oak tree across the road- the shorter-than-most-his-age kid allowed tears to well up at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. Short, black, spiky hair was plastered to the back of his neck and scalp, a fizzy caramel liquid still dripping from his glasses; root beer. It was hard to describe how badly mere soda could burn one's skin- dribbling down your scalp; the back of your neck; the arch of your spine; fizzing and bubbling the whole way down.
What did I ever do to them?
It had been three years since those mean mean mean kids started to follow him, and taunt him, for being 'Teacher's Pet'. Unfair. He aced a few tests, turned in work on time- he'd done everything that was supposed to make you a great kid. Somehow, the other boys didn't think so; maybe they were jealous. Maybe that's why taunts morphed into violence. Maybe that's even why Kain Fuery was too afraid to simply cross the hallway between classes.
Once he'd emerged from middle school, Kain was supposed to have had it cut out for him; all the good grades and reputations made with teachers were supposed to get him pretty far in high school. Academically, it was true, and he excelled.
But socially… those mean mean mean, jealous kids…
Every night, Kain ended up mopping the kitchen floor, after tracking a sticky, brown gunk through the front door.
Why do I have to deal with this?
What unlucky streak of luck had set and locked in on Fuery as the target for these vulgar behaviors?
His back pressed against the gnarly tree trunk, Kain slid down to a crouch on the earth below, pulling both knees up to his chin. There was no stopping the tears, trickling down his cheeks in narrow streams.
A trembling hand traveled up to squeeze the skin around his knee, a pathetic attempt at suppressing the blood flow. Grimacing slightly, both teary eyes snapped shut, a tiny, hiccupy sob escaping cracked lips. The scrape didn't even hurt that bad- but Kain dared not push it much farther; he wasn't sure how much more he could take.
Today had been no different as any other day for the past four first weeks of school: first through sixth period- safe. Transitioning classrooms from sixth to seventh- Kain counted the number of times he'd been shoved into the cold, metal lockers. Seventh to eight period- locker shoves, and a painful sock to the gut. Late for eighth period. Eighth to dismissal- root beer dumped over his head, and a shove to the pavement. Missed the bus.
Damn it all.
No…. everything's gonna be fine. Just wait- when a teacher sees, everything will stop, and I'll be safe…
Scraped knees and damaged pride protested otherwise; Fuery was timid. He didn't like asking for help. So he wouldn't.
Sniffling a few times, he wiped the drying blood from his fingers against his blue wool uniform vest, and sighed. Today was over, and there was nothing he could do about the events, except clean up his knee, ask his mom to mend his shorts, and push through the next fifty-something weeks of school….