Bully: Attempt to Rise

Chapter I: Arrival

Assignment 1: Summer's Over

At seventeen years old, he stood at six foot five and two hundred and fifty pounds. He was viewed as his school's '(not so) gentle giant'. Those less kind had deemed him 'Sasquatch', and even among friends the nickname stuck. Most stories start out like this; 'but (insert name here) had a secret. He was no ordinary boy. He had powers.' However, sadly, Seamus a.k.a. Sasquatch was an ordinary red headed boy with glasses and acne. He had no powers. He could not fly, nor could he shoot flames from his fingertips, nor was he a vegetarian vampire. He was simply an unpopular boy with a slight Irish accent from a small town in Michigan. He did normal things with his ordinary friends and was average in school. He was in a band, but his guitar playing was mediocre, as was his best friend's bass playing. The only thing I can really say for him: he was a damn good fighter.

At sixteen going on seventeen, Sasquatch's best friend Noah, A.K.A. Loki was, how you say...short and fat. He had long brown hair down to his chin, and occasionally a bad case of lazy eye. He was five foot four and two hundred-ten pounds. Sadly, he was not a vegetarian vampire either. In fact, he was proud to say that the taste of blood disgusted him. He was...well, he wasn't a bad fighter either...I guess.

Well, I am he. And Sasquatch is my best friend.

I wish we could say we were victims of what happened that fateful day, and that we didn't have what we got coming to us. But then, I'd be a liar. And liars suck. We deserved everything that led us to that messed up town, as well as the worst, most despicable boarding/reform school in the country: Bullworth Academy. We deserved everything that led us there, and nothing that happened to us once we got there. But if there's one thing we've learned, it's that life isn't fair.

It all started on the first day of the 2014-15 school year. Our junior year.

Sasquatch stepped out of his antique 1976 Chevy Nova SS, keeping his wits about him. I climbed out of the passenger seat, sticking close by his side.

"I'm surprised that thing still runs." I said.

"Things last when you actually bother to take care of them," he replied. I was about to retort when I saw a blond guy in a red Aquaberry sweatshirt

"Shit, there's a prep," I whispered. We ducked behind Sasquatch's car until he went by. We waited for a few seconds before slowly inching out.

We looked around for any sign of anybody else wearing Aquaberry. When we saw no one, we darted from the parking lot toward the entrance of the high school. Sasquatch opened the door and went in first.

"The hallway's empty except for a few girls. Let's go," he said.

We bolted in and ran toward the staircase that would lead us to our first period Algebra class. However, a short blond boy in bleached out jeans and a white dress-shirt stepped out from the shadows and looked down at us from the top of the stairs menacingly. He was blocking our path

We turned back the way we had come, and saw two brown haired guys in Aquaberry shirts blocking the only escape route. Typical day at Cancer Regional High School.

We readied ourselves for a fight, standing back to back, Seamus facing the two near the entrance, me facing blondie, fists raised. Ironically, the school's mission statement was posted on the wall between us. I noted the familiar poster and I chuckled.

Cancer Regional High School exists to offer a place where every child can feel safe and welcome, and be able to thrive in a stable, respectful working environment designed to better each of them and help them prepare as they journey forward into adulthood.

What a load of horse shit.

My thoughts quickly returned back to the matter at hand as another boy joined the one at the top of the stairs. My blood ran cold. Christopher Augustine. It HAD to be Christopher Augustine. On the first day back?

"Hello gentlemen," he greeted.

Christopher Augustine (he refused under any circumstances to be called Chris) was a tall athletic eighteen year old with short, neatly slicked back platinum blond hair, piercing light blue eyes, and an elegant almond shaped face. He was the American dream child in one package. Tall, strong, athletic, popular, and richer than half the rest of the school put together. His father was old money, and had inherited the position of CEO of some national investment firm in Liberty City from his father, and his father before him.

He and his mother lived more or less alone in a gigantic mansion on the outskirts of Cancer Township. He had gotten in some trouble a few years back and had the choice of leaving Liberty City for Cancer, Michigan, or Bullworth, New Hampshire. He wanted to go to Bullworth. So instead, his father sent him to Cancer to punish him for dishonoring the family name, and here we are today.

The rich bastard was nothing but a pretentious bully with a fake British accent. Everybody knew it, and nobody outside his own rich circle of friends could stomach him, but as they say, money talks. That, and Christoper was known to hire thugs to beat on anybody who gave him any trouble. Not that he would've needed to with his muscles threatening to bulge from the fancy tuxedo he wore almost every day.

Therefore, to anybody on the outside looking in, Christopher appeared to be almost universally liked, with the exception of three working class punks who hated him for his money. Guess who they were?

"Hey dickweed," Sasquatch greeted harshly, sensing the danger and switching positions with me rather quickly.

In case you didn't know who the working class punks were? That'd be us, and our other best friend, Tristan Bialeck. I wished Tristan were here to help even the odds right about now, but he was still on the bus, which by my watch wouldn't arrive for another ten minutes. My right hand inched toward the back pocket of my skinny jeans nervously.

"Well that's dreadfully rude," The pompous asshole said, pretending to be offended.

"That's kinda the point. Dickweed."

Christopher quickly dropped the pleasantries. His smile faded. The school was deathly silent.

"You really were dimwitted enough to think I didn't see you, weren't you? You think I didn't realize that it was you and Noah that vandalized my property last weekend? Now you assume that you can just walk into MY school, and have a pleasant first day back without any retribution? I don't think so."

If I could pick only one thing I didn't miss about Christopher Augustine, it was the way the pretentious fuck talked. Every syllable made me want to stab him in the throat. I knew I wouldn't have a chance against him though, so I held my tongue.

Sasquatch didn't. He never did

"Oh. I knew you saw me. I just didn't give a shit."

I cringed inwardly. Sasquatch just didn't understand that there was a time and a place to talk shit, and this was NOT it. Not when we were outnumbered two to one, and not while we were still on behavioral probation from the school year before.

"I don't know whether to commend your bravery or chastise your idiocy," Christopher said, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't talk. It gives me a fucking headache" Sasquatch said with a groan.

"I apologize. I forget that you aren't used to multisyllabic words." The pretentious asshole retorted.

"I understand what you said you arrogant prick. I just can't stand that nasally fucking voice. You sound like a congested bitch choking on semen. Kinda like your mother."

File that under things never to say, ever. Christopher's face contorted with rage.

"Do not talk about my mother, you alcoholic bar brawling son of a whore."

File that under things never to say, ever, as well. That was it. The two of them leapt at each other, pounding every inch of the other they could reach. They both tumbled down the stairway, slamming into me, causing me to slam into the two brown haired boys behind me, turning us all into human bowling balls. The short prep at the top of the stairs just looked on, somewhat stunned.

I quickly oriented myself and got to my feet. The two thugs I had landed on a second earlier were almost on me, ready to attack, when I pulled a switchblade from the back of my jeans and flicked it open, ready to cut those rich fucks to ribbons. They backed off. They always did. Nobody was dumb enough to try to fight me when I had my blade. I may not be the best fist fighter, but with my switch, I can take on guys twice my size.

The blond prep at the top of the stairs snapped out of it and ran the other way, although none of us were really paying attention to him. He was clearly a new recruit into their little club and wasn't nearly loyal enough to risk tangling with a pissed off Irishman, or a scrappy emo kid with a switchblade.

Sasquatch ducked a fierce right hook from Christopher, and hit him with an uppercut that sent him reeling backward onto the stairway. He wasted no time in giving chase, going stomp happy on the guy.

Christopher was no weakling though, He grabbed Sasquatch's incoming boot with both hands, pushing backward, knocking my friend off balance. He was on his feet in an instant, tackling him and decking him repeatedly in the face. One particular punch shattered Sasquatch's glasses, though the fists were flying so fast on both ends, I could barely keep track of the action.

Sasquatch managed to get the prep in a scissor hold, choking the life out of him with his tree trunk legs, while the prep continued to throw punches for all they were worth.

"BOYS!" a deep, booming male voice yelled. Everything stopped. It was Mr. Hattick, the school principal. His shocked expression made me want to laugh. Just like old times.

Christopher and Saquatch grudgingly stopped and got off each other, getting to their feet and straightening themselves up. We all followed him to the office. We knew the drill. All five of us had been in confrontations with each other a million times before. This time though, had been especially violent. It was also the first time I'd ever been caught with my switch out. That was bad news. He immediately confiscated it, and called the police.

Hattrick informed me that I was expelled as the police officers handcuffed me and put me in the back of their car. I put on the waterworks on the way to the jail. I wish I had been female at that moment, as I'm sure I would have been instantly let go, and taken out for ice cream. I'm a pretty damn good actor. As it was, the officers were trying to comfort me, telling me that I would not be held overnight, that I was being charged only with a single misdemeanor weapons charge, and that they would call my parents to pick me up as soon as they got my information in the system.

They took me downtown, took my mugshot, fingerprinted me, and asked me if it was the first time I had ever been incarcerated. I told them it was, which was the truth. I was put in a holding cell just long enough for my parents to get there, and was then released into their custody.

I put on a suit for the court date, and just like when I was arrested, cried my eyes out and tried to appear much younger than sixteen going on seventeen. It helped that I had a good record. I had never before been in any kind of trouble with authorities outside of school detentions and suspensions. I had good grades, mostly Bs, and couple Cs, and I was involved in volunteer work at the local soup kitchen.

I laid it on thick. It was kind of embarrassing, but hey, I did what I had to do. The judge, a middle aged female who I learned had a son a year younger than me, ate it up. There's a reason my nickname is Loki.

"Your honor, I'm aware that what I did was wrong. I felt very threatened and afraid to attend school because of the bullies. I was so scared. I did what I did on impulse, but you can rest assured that I will never do such a thing again. I have learned my lesson, and wish to do anything it takes to clear my record and become a productive, law abiding citizen."

She beamed at me like she might have an orgasm.

"Mr. Fox, normally, you would be sentenced to some time in juvenile detention center. Or at least put on probation. Brandishing a dangerous, illegal weapon is a serious crime. However, I believe you to be sincere, and your records certainly indicate you to be a good student. Are you aware of a boarding school by the name of Bullworth Academy?"

I nodded. "Yes your honor. I've heard it's a wonderful institution."

Actually, I had heard Bullworth Academy was a school full of maniacs that made Cancer regional look like a school for the gifted and pure of heart. But I figured what I had said sounded better.

She nodded. "Bullworth is a wonderful place that turns young men and women into respectable members of the community and helps them excel in a safe, effective learning environment."

I tried not to laugh my ass off. I knew all about Bullworth. It was absolutely a school for nutjobs. Nine years ago, there had been a riot that had injured almost the entire student body, damaged much of the building, and ended up with one student sentenced to serve time in an insane asylum.

I nodded. She cleared her throat. "If you agree to attend Bullworth Academy for one full year, I'll waive the charges. You'll begin immediately, and you'll stay until the end of next summer. After which, you will be free to attend school wherever your heart desires for your senior year. Or I can put you on house arrest for a year if you prefer, and you can take classes online."

I mentally pumped my fist. I didn't have to be under house arrest or go to juvie? Just attend a different school, out of state, where nobody hated my guts and I wouldn't have to deal with my parents' bullshit? The choice was pretty clear.

"Thank you for this opportunity your honor, I would very much like to attend Bullworth."

She smiled. "I hereby sentence you to one year at Bullworth Academy. Case dismissed."

She banged the gavel, and sealed my fate.