School was supposed to be a place of learning, a haven that offers safety, a place where one could consider his second home. But for a 15-year old scrawny awkward boy Emman, school was excruciating. He hardly learned there, he never felt safe and it was never his home.
School days were the days he dreaded the most.
For two years he had been bullied. His classmates always made him a laughing object, making fun of him whenever they got the chance. They would intentionally trip him when he walked down the cafeteria holding his tray of food causing it to fall on his shirt, pull his pants down during gym class humiliating him to other students and yank his chair back when he was about to sit down making him fall on the floor causing another round of mocking laughter around him.
He endured all these among other things every day. God knew how much he wanted it to stop... but it never did.
The best part of his day was when the bell rang, signaling the end of another agonizing school day. He would grab all his stuff in one solid motion and sprint his way out of the room for safety. He didn't want to spend another second in there. He wanted to go home and be alone in his own safe place.
However, like any other day, Raymond, his bully, would always beat him into the exit and would ridicule him in public for the last time before parting ways.
"Hey, stupid!" he shouted for everyone to hear. "Where did you get your brain? At a dollar store?"
It was followed by an insulting round of laughter from his friends and other people loitering around to get home. They high-fived him and congratulated him for his wit while Emman cringed in embarrassment. He just wanted to disappear, to be invisible from their mocking eyes.
He should have been used to people calling him stupid. People had always labeled him that, even his own good-for-nothing-alcoholic father told him he was an idiot. He knew he wasn't as smart as the other kids or as skillful at anything as them. He already acknowledged that fact a long time ago. He just couldn't learn as fast as a normal student could and he wasn't good at anything.
But it still hurt him every time he got insulted about it.
As the students continued to laugh at him, Emman touched a wooden bead of the bracelet he always wore his mother had given him before she passed away.
I'm not stupid.
His fingers deftly moved to the next bead.
My momma said I was just born different. There's nothing wrong with being different. My momma said it was okay. I'm okay. She promised everything was going to be just fine. I'm fine, just fine. She promised...
Ignoring everyone, Emman swung his backpack on his shoulder and almost ran to get home, still touching a wooden bead of the bracelet.
I'm patient. My momma said I need to control my temper. I'm controlling my temper. My momma said I should...
Minutes later, Emman found himself in his house.
Feeling at peace and safe in the four corners of his home, Emman went straight to his room and locked the door. He threw his bag on his bed, opened his drawer and pulled out his most prized possession- the picture of his beloved mother dressed in all white.
Emman sat on the floor, traced his mother's hair with his finger and smiled.
"Momma, the kids at school made fun of me again. But I managed to control my temper. You said to be patient, so I did. I didn't hurt them, momma. Are you proud of me, momma? Are you?"
There was silence.
"Momma, why won't you answer me? Are you mad at me? Please don't get mad at me. You're the only one I have, momma."
