Retaliation

“You have everything, right?”

“Yes.”

“You ate your breakfast?”

“U-huh.”

“You sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure, mom. I have to go now.” Zack hugged his mother and danced around the cramped kitchen and into the hallway.

“Make sure to come home right away as soon as school is done.” His mother spoke with worry in her voice.

Helmet in hand, and his backpack hanging from his shoulder. Zack turned around to face his mother; as petite as she was, that didn’t stop her from being intimidating. She had been here for him, no matter what was happening.

Even when he lied to her about the various bruises he had on his body. She never yelled at him; she just looked at him sadly.

That was how she was looking at him now, with sadness in her eyes. Like this was going to be the last time she saw him. This hurt him, and at first, he didn’t say anything. What was there to say? ’Stop worrying; I’m not going anywhere.” Or was he just supposed to smile and leave?

“I’ll be fine, mom.” He paused, watching her face closely. “Tell you what, as soon as I’m out of the school building, I’ll call you.”

“Okay, good. You’ll stay on the phone with me, right?” Her expression softened a little.

“Yes, I’ll stay on the phone until I’m right outside.” He smiled, and she returned it.

“I’ve kept you long enough; now get to school, young man.” His mother kissed him on both cheeks. Usually, he would protest, but today he felt he should let her have this moment. This moment made everything seem normal.

“Yes, ma’am. See you after school, love you.” Zack walked out of the house, the sun immediately shining down on his face.

“I love you too, my son.”

With that, he jumped on his bike and fastened his helmet securely to his head. Then I pedaled down the driveway and in the direction of the school. In the morning, everything seems fine.

Zack would think back on simpler times, times when he was happy to go to school. He looked forward to seeing his friends and his teachers. Then everything changed once you transitioned to middle school.

Your friends slowly leave, one by one. Then form cliques and have individual talents that make them shine. You barely see them, let alone talk to them, and when you do see them, they look right through you.

Then there is high school; that’s when everything becomes worse. Everyone is worried about appearances and titles. His was “nerd, loser, idiot, and loner.” It wasn’t his fault; no one wanted to talk to him because of his appearance.

He was shorter than most guys; even some girls were taller than him. His dark eyes were always hidden behind his hair. His attire was a hoodie pulled low over his face, jeans, and sneakers that had seen better days. So, of course, no one approached him, but that didn’t mean he cared any less.

At this moment, he had reached the front of the school. He climbed off his bike and wheeled it to the bike rack. He made sure to lock it up, then placed his helmet in the small compartment on the back of his bike.

He took a deep breath and pulled his hoodie low over his head. Then she walked up the stairs past the throng of students. Most of them were hanging around the doors; his eyes caught those of Angelo, Blaze, George, and Todd. All former elementary school friends who had turned into his daily tormentors.

Zack walked past them as if they were in some synchronized dance. They followed him into the school. It was the same thing: get beat up multiple times in a day, then be humiliated outside of the school grounds.

Walking briskly down the hall, Zack tried to lose them. But to his dismay, he didn’t lose them for a second. As he walked into one of the empty classes, the door closed behind him.

“Sit down, loser.” Angelo pushed him from behind.

“We just want to have a little talk.” Blaze sneered, shoving him into a chair.

“You guys always want to talk, when we all know you just want to beat me up.” He was annoyed and tired. Tired of all the bullying, why couldn’t he be like everyone else?

“Yeah, we do. And you are going to sit and take it like a man.” Angelo walked up to him, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

Zack could see George and Todd; both were standing by the door as if they were bodyguards.

George was playing with his curls; he was the pretty boy of the group. Which meant he couldn’t be bothered to handle scum like him. Todd was staring at nothing; he was the brains of the group. Not nerdy like Zack, but calm and endearing.

Zack was pretty sure he was the one who came up with all the different ways to torment him.

Then there were Blaze and Angelo, the two main muscles of the group, who laid their hands and other limbs on him daily.

Zack was then given a hard blow to the stomach; he wheezed. Another blow landed on the side of his head, and he saw stars. A couple more jabs and kicks, and Zack was coughing up blood; his face and body ached too.

“Teacher’s coming.” George hissed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Till later, idiot.” Blaze smiled as he walked away, not before wiping his hands on Zack’s hoodie.

Angelo sent one last blow to the side of his head, and he too wiped his hands on Zack’s hoodie. Then sent him a smirk over his shoulder. As the four of them filed out of the classroom, the only one who looked back was Todd.

He seemed to have said something, but Zack didn’t catch it. Soon, Zack felt himself slipping away into darkness. A teacher most likely entered because he heard a scream of surprise, then footsteps hurrying back out again.

“Someone get administration or the nurse for Christ’s sake!” There was urgency in the voice that called out.

Zack could only see a little bit, and he was looking at the teacher’s back. “I know that voice, I think.” Zack thought, and he tried to make a sound; what came out was a strained groan.

The teacher stopped yelling and ran back toward him.

“Hey, are you okay, Zack?” Delicate hands were placed on his shoulders.

Why did it feel like this was a crime scene? This was normal, both for Zack and the many bystanders who watched. Even some of the teachers could see his suffering and wouldn’t even step in.

“Zack, you have to stay awake!” He felt himself being shaken. “You’re going to the nurse, okay? And we’ll call your mom.”

Zack found his strength suddenly: “No! No, don’t call her, please. I don’t want to worry her.” It hurt for him to speak, but he went on anyway.

“I can’t bear to see her, to have her see me like this.” To his frustration, tears came to his eyes; all this was taking a toll on him.

“Okay, Zack, we won’t call your mom. But just stay awake—what is taking them so long?! The classroom is right down the hall from the office!” The teacher let out a breath of frustration.

“You know what? I’ll take you to the office myself.” With that, one of Zack’s arms was placed on the shoulder of the teacher.

With a heaving groan, he and the teacher stood up. A sharp pain raced through his abdomen, and he felt nauseated. They began to shuffle forward. Zack’s eyes were on the floor, and as they walked out of the class, he heard mutters of disbelief. Some were laughing, and others were snapping pictures. ‘Click....Click....’

This infuriated him, but he stopped himself from pushing the teacher away and confronting the crowd. Why did they care if he was coming along battered and broken? Were his sufferings that amusing to them?

Zack couldn’t go on; he stopped, and the teacher stopped too.

“Come on, Zack, we’ve got to keep going. We’re almost there.”

“No, I can’t.” That is when he passed out.