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The Trouble With Americans...
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In Japan, bullying was much more undercover. Unusual children were ostracized and ignored altogether. Even the lowest rung on the social ladder wouldn't chance spending their lunch beside a student that the majority had decided was wrong in some way. These excluded individuals stayed far away from one another, desperate to redeem themselves and become accepted as part of the whole. Kiku could recall only a few specific instances in which the bullying had escalated into physical abuse, but in the grand scheme of things Kiku wasn't sure that it made much of a difference.
Kiku himself had always been quiet and smart enough to avoid any major social missteps, which isn't to say he didn't hear the occasional insult regarding the angle of his eyes or the sound of his native tongue. In America, victims of bullying came in all shapes and sizes, but more often than not Kiku had observed that it was the smaller and weaker that were preyed upon the most, which is exactly why Kiku had never expected Alfred to be one of them.
Alfred gasped when his back hit the metal locker, and Kiku winced in sympathy, backpedalling around the corner he'd just turned. Wary of the perpetrators turning on him, Kiku tried his best to remain hidden as he watched the scene unfold. There were three guys, only one of which managed to top Alfred's towering height. The other two were obviously his lackeys, snickering when the tallest boy leaned in close to Alfred's face.
"Faggot," he spat, hand fisted in Alfred's shirt.
Alfred stuttered but managed to respond. "Fuck you," he said, chest heaving.
The tallest boy laughed. "You wish, queer.'
Then he did to Alfred what Kiku had been warning him would happen since day one in those baggy jeans: he pantsed him. Kiku knew the decision hadn't been intentional, but Alfred had picked the worst possible day to wear boxers with small ponies on them. The underwear featured Rainbow Dash exclusively, if Kiku wasn't mistaken.
The three teenagers erupted into laughter and Alfred struggled to push them away, grappling for the loose waist of his jeans. Kiku was merely grateful the hallway was empty.
"He really is a faggot," said one of the boys, pointing. "Him and the fucking ponies again," guffawed the other.
Kiku's heart seized and he could feel the adrenaline pumping into his blood increase. His thoughts were becoming scattered as he struggled to remain quiet, impossible thoughts like Kiku rushing in to break up the fight and save the day, like Kiku wasn't pushing five foot five on a good day and packing about as much muscle as a malnourished vegetarian.
Alfred narrowed his eyes but remained unmoving, clearly outnumbered. "You know this show is for little kids, right?" said one of them.
"For little girls," said the other. "My baby sister watches that shit and she's three."
The boys shared a laugh again as Alfred tried to slink away. The tallest one slammed him back against the wall of lockers. "Maybe Alfred isn't a faggot at all," he said, sounding surprised. The other two scoffed and tried to disagree.
"No," said the leader. "I'm startin' to think maybe Al here isn't a boy at all. Maybe he's just a wittle girl."
His sidekicks nodded their heads, realization dawning on them. "Do you even have a weenie in there, huh?"
Kiku watched in horror as the bully hooked his fingers into the waistband of Alfred's pants a second time, and he turned away before he was forced to witness what he already knew was going to happen.
The pieces fell into place all at once, and Kiku suddenly understood Alfred's absences in school, the random disappearances, and his strangely shifty behavior in the hallway. Kiku ran all the way to class hating himself for not doing anything about it, and he hated himself even more for ignoring Alfred's sad smiles in favor or maintaining normalcy.
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