Peter Chapter 4.
I had first lunch. Luckily, The Crefeld School is lucky to have an outdoor cafeteria, allowing students to sneak into the day at lunch almost every day of the week. Including this one because I was planning exactly that. I moved from my spot by the gymnasium and waited for a crowd to gather before seamlessly joining the group, heading toward the food line.
I moved quickly, weaving through people. I got to near the front of the line and managed to hide between two very lanky basketball players talking about doing a kegstand at some party that I more than likely wasn't invited to. Somehow I didn't feel like going to some strange house, getting brown-out drunk, and rubbing up against someone as all that much fun. Call me old-fashioned.
"You're old-fashioned." I said quietly to myself, not even realizing it. One of the basketball players turned to me.
"What?" I found myself being glared down at by two behemoths.
"I said…I hear they use old potatoes and mash 'em." I said, leaning my head up higher for their benefit.
"I'm pretty sure it's just powder. It's nasty either way, am I right?"
"Oh, totally. It's like eating soap." The two of them laughed, much to my surprise. I kind of imagined them being expert ball-handling robots.
"Hey, aren't you the kid who—"
"Didn't you score four…baskets last year in the…game?" I said in a bit of a panic. I realized quickly that in my altercation the previous night that a basketball player had been my so-called 'victim.'
"Four? More like twenty-four. It was us against the—" I didn't stay to listen. He honestly wasn't even talking to me anymore, so I didn't feel inclined to stay and listen. I moved ahead a few spots in line and waited a little impatiently. It's not that I was hungry, but I just didn't like waiting in line. I'm impatient. So sue me.
I got my lunch, a 'balanced and healthy' meal of mashed potatoes with gravy, chicken nuggets, a stale roll, and a substance that surely resembled jell-o at some point, and then made my way into the center of the cafeteria. There was always one table. The table that was empty or the table that had room without having to talk to someone. From the looks I was getting, it didn't seem like I had any other options.
I finally spied a table near the outskirts of the courtyard under a shady tree. I started to walk toward it and discovered that Bartholomew Hackin DeGrunther had beaten me to it. Bartie, as I called him against his will, was a foreign exchange student from Wales. He had a strong accent and happened to probably be one of the only Welsh multi-lingual goth kids on the planet. I had shared a table with him more than once and he still didn't like me. Wasn't sure why really.
"Bartie, how's it going?"
"It's Bartholomew." He corrected, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. "For the eight billionth time, it's Bartholomew."
"Oh, come on, Bartie. We haven't even known each other for eight billion seconds and I know I haven't been calling you Bartholomew multiple times per second since the moment I met you and I doubt you've been able to say 'It's Bartholomew' seven billion, nine hundred and ninety nine million, nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight times before I walked up just now."
"Just sit down, Peter. I know you're going to, anyway." Bartholomew said with a roll of his eyes.
"I'm wearing you down, Bartie. Soon you'll expect to be called Bartie." I said, unfolding my napkin.
"I doubt it, but you're welcome to try." Bartholomew said, poking at his mashed potatoes. "Actually, no. You're not welcome to try."
"First answers only, Bartie."
"Peter. There you are." I looked back at the sound of my name and saw Freddy hurrying over.
"Oh, my gosh, Freddy. What?" I said in exasperation. I figured that after I almost bludgeoned his friend this morning that he would leave me alone. Yet the mascot persists.
"No, Peter." He said, putting his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to ask how you did that this morning. And I wanted to apologize for what they said to you, too."
"It's okay. It happens."
"Wait, what did you do?" Bartholomew asked, looking at me then hesitantly up at Freddy and back.
"Nothing, Bartie. Just…had a bit of an incident." I explained, trying to be vague. Freddy had a different idea.
"He tore the leg off a desk. And almost bashed Jacob Markinson's face in." Freddy explained, sitting across from Peter. "It was actually pretty impressive."
"Jacob Markinson? Good grief. And you're still standing here?" Bartholomew asked, turning away from his food
"Well, I ran off after I stopped myself from committing a felony." I said, rolling my eyes a little as I took a bite of my jell-o.
"Nothing to worry about, by the way. I covered for you." Freddy said, patting me on the back.
"Thanks, I guess…" I was suspicious of how nice Freddy was being especially since this was probably the first time we had spoken, really. We had both been bullied. We'd both seen our shares of locker interiors, but I had the lower rank in the social hierarchy. I was lower than the mascot.
"Hey, listen, I was hoping to talk to you about last night. I might—"
"Hey, you know what? Just uh…Just don't worry about it." I said a little rudely. I didn't want to be mean, but talking to Freddy about something that sounded like a discussion about my 'changing body' isn't really something that appeals to me.
"No, I think—" Freddy was cut off by the lunch bell. I had never been so grateful to get back to class.
"See you, Bartie." I said, standing up and tossing my tray into the trash. I hadn't eaten much, but that was okay. I wasn't hungry. After that, I headed toward the gym. Immediately, I felt my stomach drop. I was glad to get away from Freddy, but unfortunately that meant going to P.E.
I headed into the locker room and quickly changed clothes then headed into the gym were a line was forming in front of the Crefeld School athletic director, Mr. Barnes. He was a tall and rotund man, dressed in what used to be regulation, but was so far out of style it was no longer on the map: A pair of shorts ending mid-thigh and a tight collared shirt, something straight out of the seventies.
"Alright, kiddies! Because Ms. Macon is out on maternity leave, I will be your substitute until she returns." He explained, chomping on a piece of gum. "I was not given a lesson plan, nor was I told what you were learning, so for today, we will be playing dodgeball! The rules of the game are as follows!" Mr. Barnes came from an era of gym class that didn't involve nutrition or health or proper exercise. Physical education meant kicking the crap out of each other, usually with boxing gloves. Now, since all of the 'namby-pambies' have 'girlied up the system,' he hung up his gloves and took out his ba—I mean, he brought out the dodgeballs. He was also the kind of guy who treated a gym class how a drill Sergeant might treat a barracks full of soldiers. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mr. Barnes." I said with a bit of a sigh. Everyone on planet earth knew the rules to dodgeball, so it didn't really make sense for him to explain it every time we played it. I honestly think he just liked yelling.
"Good! Now, let's count off." That was the other aspect I hated. He counted off. The same way. Every time. I looked down the line and saw that every kid like me whose greatest athletic accomplishment was pro level on wii bowling was sandwiched between two jocks, standing feet taller than most everyone else. "Alright, girl scouts! Get to your sides and wait!"
I headed to the right and walked to the wall, leaning up against it. We were going to get crushed like we always did.
"Dodgeball!"
And so it began.
The people around me shot forward, hoping to get a ball to protect their lives from the coming red ball bombardment. I didn't move from wall-bound foxhole, not wanting to venture into the fray of battle. My cover was blown when the wall of people I had been taking advantage of were all wiped out in a loud plunk-plunk-plunk! Cacophony.
I finally moved away from the wall and moved quickly, dodging three balls which bounced off the wall behind me. Taking the time while they reload, I turn and grab a ball of my own, holding it up as a shield. I managed to block one ball, then another, then in the heat of the moment I threw the ball. It didn't move very fast, but it bounced off a guy's foot, getting him out.
I stood there in surprise only to be hit by a ball in the side of the head. I could feel my face getting hot from the impact, but I looked over and saw none other than Jacob Markinson laughing at me. I could feel my face get even hotter and I slowly walked over to the side, waiting for the game to finish.
It was only a matter of seconds later when the rest of my team was out and we switched sides.
"Try and put up a fight this time, huh, ladies?" Mr. Barnes said before blowing his whistle. I shot off the wall and got to the line before anyone else, immediately grabbing a ball and sweeping four more to my side. I went into some sort of trance and it was like everything else turned off. My eyes quickly scanned the opposite side. Ten people. Four with balls. Six unarmed. I backed up and stepped on a ball that was behind me. I easily blocked a thrown ball and then stepped over the ball, before kicking it to the other side.
The other team watched the ball giving me a chance to throw mine, hitting Scott Falkner right in the groin. He crumpled to the ground and I quickly bent down grabbing another ball. I went to the back of my team's side, getting a sense of the numbers. My team was down to six, but I wasn't going to give up. Just as someone on my team got hit, I threw my ball, getting another person on their team out. I ran to grab another ball, dodging two en route, then quickly stood up, blocking one more. It seemed like I was unstoppable.
Jacob Markinson intentionally hit two more of my teammates in the face, then laughed at them. I could feel myself getting more and more angry and with each passing second, I seemed to heat up. Both literally and metaphorically. The other team seemed like it was standing still. I threw another ball and caught another immediately afterward. Three people on my team. Five people on their team. I threw another, but they dodged, leaving my team with nothing. I stood there waiting for them to throw. They all carefully picked up balls and then counted down. 3…2…1… I counted in my head before shoving one of my teammates out of the way of a ball and then leaning backward to dodge another. I landed on my hand and then shoved off, spinning sideways out of the way of another ball. It was like I had become a gymnast and I was doing a floor routine to dodge the dodgeballs. I rolled forward and turned around just in time to catch the fifth ball. I took a second to catch my breath, but everyone was only staring at me.
"That was incredible." One of my teammates said, his mouth agape.
"Umm…Thanks." I said quietly.
"Hey, pretty princess." I turned to look at the source of the voice and saw Jacob Markinson running at me. "You gonna dance around during dodgeball? Huh?" He lowered his head like a bull and got ready to grab me, but I dodged out of the way before hitting him with a dodgeball. I laughed a little, but he grabbed me by my shirt and pinned me up against the wall. "Are you trying to be a little ballerina, you big fairy?" I clawed at his hand and I could feel myself getting angry again. I could feel my hands getting hot like they did the previous night.
"You mad, bro?" I said, trying to free myself from his grasp. "Did I hurt your widdle feelings?" I looked over at the room and saw Mr. Barnes nowhere to be found. That was when I felt his fist hit me in the stomach. I let out a groan and wondered for a second if all bullies punched in the same way, aiming for the same spot. "Oh, man. Was that you that just hit me? I thought it was an old woman." His eyes widened and he hit me again.
"Do you want to get hit, you psycho?" Jacob said, clenching his fist again. I thought about his question and I actually had to think. Usually people don't want to get hit, but I kind of did. It was like I was feeding off of it. He punched me again and I cringed but then laughed at him.
"Are you done yet? I got places to be." I said with a chuckle. I looked him in the eye and he actually looked scared. He threw me down to the hard gym floor and then kicked me hard in the ribs. I clenched my fists again harder and harder with each time he hit me. I grew hotter and angrier until it felt like my skin was on fire. Jacob kicked me again and I rolled over onto my back smiling up at him.
"Jacob, maybe you shouldn't—" I heard one of the kids around me say, but Jacob ignored him.
"STOP SMILING AT ME!" He said before getting to one knee and punching me in the face. "You sick freak!" He punched me again and it was like something snapped inside me. My skin felt white-hot and Jacob jumped a little before scrambling back away from me. I heard gasps and people calling for a teacher, but I didn't find out before I passed out.