Dirt Poor

THIRTEEN - Software

Sorry-I was kinda on a roll with this today so enjoy this double update! :)

P.S. Don't get too excited. I won't be able to update again until sometime next week.

It was finally Friday and I was snuggled into the bus seat as the chilly autumn air was determined to stick around for a while. It sunk into my bones even from the warm-filled bus I was on and pulled the sweater closer. It was the same sweater that I had to mend after my run-in with Johnny. It was probably time to take out my winter jacket, if it could be called that.

It was a light blue puffer jacket that had seen many better days and the only way I knew it was light blue was because of the inside. The outside had been stained numerous times over the years and it was a grungy, dull blue rather than the bright light blue. The padding had gone flat and didn't protect against the cold like it used to.

The coat was from the church that holds the food shelf each week and I received it back in the 8th grade. It had become too small for me, or smaller considering it was already a size too small when I originally received it. I wasn't going to complain though. I was grateful to have something extra to keep warm with. But now the sleeves didn't reach down to my wrists, it was a few inches shy of that. Even if the zipper worked, it was too small for me to zip up and the buttoned hood was ripped off and set on fire by Syre right in front of me.

School had just finished for the day and it was mid-way through 9th grade year. I was walking down the steps of the school, following the same routine as every other day of walking to the bus stop. I remember I was about to take the second step down the steps when Syre's hand gripped my hood and yanked me backward.

The hood ripped off the coat as I fell backward and my head smacked against the pavement. There's a chance that I had a concussion as I saw stars and my head was pounding for a couple of days after. But I wasn't a doctor so I wasn't actually sure. While I was on the ground, Syre-who was already insanely big for being in 9th grade-pressed his knee into my chest, keeping me in my spot on the ground.

It was one of the very first times that Syre had been so aggressive in his taunting with me. I remember how he roughly gripped my chin and pushed my head to the left and made me watch as one of his little friends took a light, which already had me squirming considering what my father liked to do, and set the hood on fire.

Then, they all left me laying on the front steps of the school as they, and the other students, maneuvered around me and went about their day as I lay trying to get my world to settle into some semblance of normalcy. It didn't work because as soon as I sat up, everything sort of spun and wavered.

I also remember feeling the back of my head, a lump tender to the touch, but ever so growing, and I knew the knot would be there for at least a few days. That's when I admitted that I needed to be better with my surroundings and always be alert at school.

And at home.

But I already knew that.

At first, I thought it was just typical bullying from Syre, but that instance showed me that it wasn't typical. It showed me that Syre really and truly hated me and it wasn't going to stop there because I knew why he did it. It was payback for reporting his consistent tripping and shoving in gym class. It showed me that there was no point in fighting it because nothing ever came of it in regard to Syre. I reported and he retaliated. So I stopped.

Syre had successfully shown me that I didn't matter.

At least not here.

I hoped one day that I would matter.