Joey Small

Rough (5)

Sadly, one cannot ride through primary school on the back of one clever thought. Eventually, the buzz would die out and people would move on to the next big gossip. For me, my point in philosophy was surely remembered as: awesome, deep, more awesome, more deep. But it wasn't taken into such high regards. It's like when a Taylor Swift song becomes bigger than an Adele song. And who would be the Tay Tay driving me cray cray? None other than Ricky Morton.

He was the bad boy of the class. Always tardy and having time outs. Woah, we have a badass over here! He would throw a fit about sitting on the floor in assembly. He never said good morning to the teacher or "everybodyyyyyyyy" (which was annoying as fuck, dude. Why waste so much time on that shit?) What did he do to make me wanna "hate, hate, hate"? He went to bed at 10:30pm. I went to sleep at 10pm max, cuz this mother fucker needed his shut eye or he was gonna be cranky in the morning. There were the poor suckers who had to hit the hay at 7 or 7:30pm; most people clocked at about 9-9:30pm. He was portrayed as a legend for being able to stay awake that long. We could all do it, but our parents (or guardians) would disapprove, and probably tell us for. And if they didn't catch us initially, chances are we had a bratty younger sibling who would snitch on you like the little tattle-tales they were.

He knew he was stepping on my shoes and into my territory. He gave no fucks either. It made me mad.
        By this point, I had befriended another social outcast, Axel Rod. All he wanted was to play football with the lads, but he was too shy due to having a crazy hairdo. Well, they thought it was crazy. I thought it was totally awesome- it was spiky and white like a badass. I complained about Ricky and wanted to get Axel's feedback on what I should do. He said: "why do you need to be popular?" I replied, nonchalantly:" because I'm head honcho and they need to accept me as their master!" Yeah, he was weary of me from then on. But it was cool, that's how I like my friendships- built upon mutual respect.

I could tell what Axel was hinting at, so to make him happy I didn't do anything. But maybe psycho struck me in disguise at school. Today was Friday, which meant oily fish and chips with peas day. As I was walking to my tablet (which was indicated as I saw Axel waving at me with a glowing smile, since I'm probably his first and only friend) and Mr Badboy came at me. He "accidentally bumped into me" and knocked into me, making me drop my food and spill peas and water all over me. I know this can seem like a total accident, but here's the thing- I got a scar. That little shit cut me with his butter knife, nudging me to make me look like a clutz. I was not going to allow him to get away with that.

I played it off cool. I just had my head low and began to pick up my food. A couple kind souls gave me a helping hand. So as I got them to clean up one mess, I was about to sort out another. I rose, slightly slower than natural to make it more dramatic. I gradually tilted my head up until I made eye contact; he stood there waiting. "What's the big idea?" I question, sounding more whiney than I intended.
"Hey, it was an accident, dude. Forget about it." He had a an accent resembling the troublesome youths of the 50s, his haircut also made links to it. I grabbed my arm, running my fingers across the scar. There was no blood, he couldn't cut deep enough. It was more like a scratch, but it wouldn't be for much longer.

I can sense the challenge he sends to me via facial expressions. I always accept a challenge. Furiously, I charge at me, pinning him to the lunch table behind me. I stay throwing pinches faster than a pitcher, harder than a bowling ball. In a blind of rage I lose control. Of my senses. Of my emotions. Of my actions. I don't regret it.

He doesn't fight back at first, hoping a teacher would come and pin the blame solely on me. But luck had worked somewhat in my favour, and nobody came until he too finally cracked.

He kicked me in the shin. I double over in pain and he jumps on me, literally on top of me. We were 6. We take the tumble to settle the brawl on the floor. Kicking. Punching. Biting. Crying. I didn't cry, in fact, I was completely numb to the pain. I'm not sure if it was my blinding rage that nullified it, but I hardly felt s thing. It wasn't until his teeth sank into me that I screamed. Maybe not screamed, but a quiet groan. The kid was as weak as he was dumb. Not just in terms of academics, but for picking s fight with me in the first place. Obviously none of the kids intervened. They were all wusses who were betting their milk on who es gonna win. Most people were rooting for Ricky; Axel's words of encouragement getting drowned out in the back.

Eventually, Mrs Wray came to break it up. She was not at all pleased. Not just with us though, she was absolutely disgusted to see and hear 58 children encourage a fight between a couple of students.

When we were asked it quickly became the blame game. He spilt food on me, Ms.
It was an accident, Ms.
He gave me a scar Ms.
He attached me first, Ms. He made up such bull crap and Ms "ruled in favour" of him. I felt like yelling OBJECTION! Phoenix Wright style (I saw him in Marvel vs Capcom 3). Alas, I was new so she believed the one she knew longer. Repeat. She believed the trouble maker that she's known to cause trouble since nursery, over the innocent orphan who just moved here and is no way guilty of anything prior to this. Our world works in strange ways. And in even stranger circumstances it fails to work appropriately. I was sent home early as was told not to come into school on Monday as I needed to clear my head. Luckily, I was still given the chance to go on the trip to the forest the following day. If a kid gets beaten up but nobody hears him scream, did he make a sound?