I.E.D.

School

School. There I was. Finally a senior. My birthday only a month ago. One day from graduation. I was so close.
It was April 6th. A Friday. Fourth period biology just ended and I was off to lunch. Lunch was the one part of the day I spent with my peers...and it was severe, utter, cruel torture.
As I walked down the hallway studded with red lockers and a yellow and white tiled floor names were shouted at me.
"Freak!"
"Loser!"
"Dumb!"
"Sped!"
Ah the infamous "sped". "Sped". A term used by the popular kids in the school. When one of them did something dumb they called each other a "sped". But this was not a joke.
I spun around at the word to see your every day star athlete. James was his name, I believe. He stood against the locker with his hands in his pockets, clad in a red baseball t-shirt and a pair of white shorts.
"What did you say?" I asked in a low, rigid tone. Only I wasn't asking, I knew what he said.
"Sped," he said again in a laid back tone, smirking at me.
What happened next I'm not so proud of. But all I remember is hearing Ira.
Ira is my best friend. My only friend. He was a "weird kid" in school. He had a prosthetic arm. Kids always made fun of him. I guess that's how we ended up friends. The school losers.
We sat next to each other at lunch. A table alone; the "loser" table.
And Ira cares about me. That's why he yelled at me that one time.
"Ingrid don't do it!" was the last thing I heard before I attacked that boy.
I punched James in the face, knocking him over. Rage boiled inside me until it was pouring out of my mouth with the words I said.
I grabbed James by his perfectly slicked back blonde hair and slammed his head mercilessly against the ground repeatedly.
"Still think I'm a sped huh?" I shouted at him.
"Try me!" he yelled back. He struggled to get away but my strength comes from anger. He finally stood up, just to be knocked down by my fist in his face. I kicked him, even if he was down; Ira trying to hold me back. Then I snapped out of my rage.
I saw my work, saw what was done. I'd never been more ashamed, it'd never been worse than this. James clutching his ribs crying. My kick had broken them.
I crumbled.
Tears flooded down my cheek as I hit the floor. I sobbed and sobbed. It was all my fault. I should've tried to control it.
Ira bent down next to me.
"It wasn't your fault. You can't help it. He'll be okay. It'll be okay. You'll be okay.
That's why Ira was my best friend.