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- 04/23/2015
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Broken - 18. Reaction
After I got home, Dad went back to work. My head ached and as time passed, I began to get progressively sore from my bruises. I was tired and tried to take a nap but every time I'd drift off, I would see that damned knife. By two o'clock, I was getting pretty desperate. I hopped on my bike ran out to our fort to raid our stash. I knew that Brian wouldn't mind as I always made a fair contribution.
I rolled two joints and smoked half of one. It calmed me down and my hands stopped shaking. Afterwards I went back to the house and finally got some sleep on the sofa.
Scotty woke me up about 3:30 by hugging me. I pulled him close into a painful embrace. Ouch! Sometimes love really does hurt.
He understood. He eagerly told me about the news of the day.
Billy Wheeler had gone too far. He was an arrogant prick that preyed on the weak. He had been warned plenty of times and Mr. Walthers had finally had enough of his crap. He was suspended for two weeks. Brandon Farmer was also suspended for two weeks for using a chair as a weapon. It was the second time he had done it and he had been warned. We weren't really sure what happened to the rest of Billy's posse.
None of my friends got in trouble for coming to my aid. Actually I was impressed. Brian handled himself well and Steven actually surprised me. He was tight with Foster and Billy had pissed him off in a major way. Scotty, a hundred pounds soaking wet and usually really timid about confrontations, had made a charge into the fray that would have made General Custer blush.
The bad news was that Foster hurt his shoulder when he went down. His left arm wasn't working right and his Mom took him to get it checked out.
Scotty could tell that I was sore. He sat on the edge of the sofa and gently massaged my neck and back. That was something that I treasured about him. He had a way of knowing what I needed without having to ask.
As I was lying there with Scotty working the kinks out of my back, he asked, “Jimmy, you've always protected me. Then it was Nick, Brian and Foster. That's who you are and that's why I love you. The thing I've got to ask is who protects you?”
I took his hand, kissed it and looked into his eyes. “You do. You protect my heart. That matters most to me.”
He ran his hand through my hair. “Then let me. Tell me what happened to you Saturday.”
“I will. I just want you and Brian there with me when I do.”
I sat there in silently with Scotty's arm around my shoulder and drifted off to sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Mom wasn't at all pleased when she got home. To her, as a teacher, only church was more important than school. Nothing got her riled up more than a “C”, a poor progress report or worse, a call from a principle.
“Suspended for fighting! Oh you are so grounded mister! Don't you roll your eyes at me.” I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I knew that this could go on for hours.
Ding-dong. The doorbell offered me a brief reprieve in mid Mom-rant.
She relented briefly saying, “Sit right there. I'm not through with you mister.”
She went to the door and was gone for several minutes. I heard her talking to someone. My Mom came into the living room followed by three unexpected visitors.
Foster's Mom followed my Mom into the living room with Steven and Foster in tow. Fosters arm was in a sling.
Mrs. King was having and animated conversation with my Mom. “That horrible Wheeler boy has been making a lot of seventh graders absolutely miserable. He's been put back twice and most of the kids just can't handle him. That is of course until your Jimmy here dropped him like a bad habit in the cafeteria today.”
My Mom's eyes got big and for once, she was speechless.
With that Mrs. King came over to me and gave me a gentle hug. Foster and Steven sat down beside me.
To my surprise, Foster and Steven were grinning so I asked, “How is the shoulder?”
Foster wiggled his fingers. “It's not too bad. I landed on it funny and it got dislocated. It hurt like blazes when the Doc popped it back into place but it will be OK in a few days.”
Steven, who was usually either a joker or so quiet that you might not even notice him said very seriously, “Good things happened today after you went home today. People that Billy had been pushing around all year finally got the nerve to complain.”
I asked cautiously, “Is that why you are always bruised up Foster?”
He nodded sadly and looked at the floor. “They always catch me at the lockers. They all punch me when they go by. I try avoiding them but it's like they get me somewhere every day. I was ashamed of it and kept quite about it. I didn't want people to think that I was a crybaby. Today is the first time they've pulled something when so many people were around.”
I shook my head and asked, “Foster, why didn't you say something, at least to me?”
“I didn't want to cause trouble.”
Steven laughed, “Dude, you need to learn the difference between causing trouble and having trouble. We're your friends. Let us know and we'll help.”
Foster looked at the floor. “It's just really embarrassing.”
I asked, “Foster, how much do you weigh?”
“About a hundred pounds.”
“Billy is my size so he's about 150. Brandon is fat so he is about 170. You've got nothing to be embarrassed about. Those two jerks should be embarrassed that they are picking on somebody almost half their size.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
After Foster and company left, my Mom and I continued the long talk that had been interrupted. This time it was on much better terms but she took a different tact.
Mom asked, “So you protect Scotty, Foster, Brian and Steven. What gave you this white knight complex?”
I smiled and replied, “You did?”
My Mom blinked. “What?”
Mom loved it when I backed a position with scripture. “Matthew 25:40. The King will reply, `I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”
She laughed at that. “What? Beat people up? I think you need to re-read that passage. ”
I shook my head. “The parable of the sheep and the goats, it's about social justice. It calls for action. I can't stand to watch kids being bullied and pushed around. I know how much I hate it when it happens to me. It hurts me when I see it happen to my friends.”
She smiled and reached out and stroked my hair. “My white knight. I have a quest for you.”
“Yes, my lady”, I exclaimed, jumped up off the sofa and bowed in the courtly fashion of the Round Table.
“Load the dishwasher.”
“Not a very noble quest. Are you sure that you don't have a rampaging dragon eating the peasants?”
“The dishwasher, Sir Goofs-a-lot.”
“Yes, my lady. Right away.” I went about the task appointed by the lady of the manor.
She knew how I was. She knew how I hated to see people being disrespected and bullied. That's how she raised me. However, school is important and she couldn't just let a suspension go unnoticed.
My little “vacation” from school wasn't all that pleasant. I ended up working harder staying at home than I would have at school. Every day there was a long list of chores for me to do. Thankfully, the chores she picked took into account my bumps and bruises. It was just the kind of busy work I really hate.
I fooled them. I hadn't been a heroic or noble. I was just a guy having a bad day that lost his temper.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Things were different when I got back to school on Thursday. It seemed like a lot more people knew my name.
I made a point of hanging close to Foster. I didn't want any of Billy's friends to catch him off by himself.
Some of Billy's boys were around. They were a bit like wolves circling a campfire. They glared at us but were wary of the fire. I could see the hate and anger glowering in their eyes but it lacked focus. The leader of their pathetic pack was missing.
Thursday and Friday turned out to be really good days. Foster came out of his shell. He was having fun for a change and it made a lot of difference. The cloud that I had seen hanging over him all year was gone.
Things were shaping up for a great weekend.
Friday a little before 3:00, I unlocked my bike. I looked at my watch and took off on the trail home. I was having a ball. I had a lot of speed built up and was taking all the jumps. I was trying to break my best time.
I didn't see the doubled up fishing line set across the trail at chest height on a hard downgrade. It took me clean off the bike and slammed me into the ground hard. My head hit the roots of an oak tree. Lights out.
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17
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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