The Real Bully

Flashback 4

When Brandon's Dad died everyone knew.

His friends crowded around him, teachers cut him slack, even people he didn't know gave him their respects.

Cardiac arrest, I heard. Some heart disease that ran in the family.

I never saw Brandon cry once. He just didn't talk. He sat at lunch, his hand limply resting in his girlfriend's hand, nodding absentmindedly at his friends' comments. He didn't eat, wouldn't look anyone in the eye.

I didn't tell Brandon I was sorry about his dad. I'd actually met his dad a few times. We lived in the same neighborhood. Sometimes my parents thought I sat inside too much and made me go to the pool. I would lie at the pool with my comic books, not bothering to put on a bathing suit, and see his dad swimming laps.

"Hey Xander, how you doing?" he asked me when he dried off, oblivious to the fact that his son bullied me every day.

I would always give him a small smile and return my gaze to my comic book, not wanting to engage in conversation, just wanting to hide, to avoid people and watch the time click by until I could return to my videogames.

My parents went to the funeral without me. When they got home, they scolded me angrily for sitting at the computer all day among chocolate bars and crumbs. "Go outside, be a normal kid!" they yelled. My parents hated me, but they never admitted it. "Go pick up something for dinner!" My dad kicked me off the couch, forcing me to walk the 5 blocks to the grocery store. That was one of the few ways they ever got me to leave the house—by threatening me with food. My mom gave me $25 and ordered me to pick up something, something healthy, she emphasized. I rolled my eyes.

I bought chicken nuggets, French fries, and ice cream for dinner. Grinning at the thought of my mom yelling at my lack of healthy choices, I bumped into Daniel.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded. He snatched my groceries from my arms and shifted through the bag. "Ice cream? Hmm, maybe I'll take that. You're already too fat." His friends, Jake and Sam, snickered from behind him. "Oh who wants French fries?" Daniel paused to toss the frozen French fries at Sam who greedily stuck his hands in the air. "And finally...chicken nuggets. My, what a healthy dinner," he spat sarcastically, saliva flying from his angry mouth and hitting me in the face. Jake grabbed the chicken nuggets. One by one he pulled them out of the box and flicked them at me. "Hope you enjoyed your dinner!" Daniel cackled and the three boys raced off, abandoning me to return home empty-handed.

When I was almost home I saw Brandon alone on his front porch crying. He had his head in his hands and tears streaking his cheeks. He heard my footsteps and looked up. His bottom lip quivered. "Xander..." he whispered but loud enough for both of us to hear. "I..." And then he put his head down again and began sobbing again, ugly sobs that reverberated throughout the neighborhood.