Invictus

Chapter 3: Bully

The lunch bell rang and the halls crowded with students, some quiet, others obnoxious and loud. One particular student in a maroon hoodie and jeans pointed toward me as he prepared to walk by me with his two friends. They were all watching a video on the maroon hooded kids phone.

"Yo, Zeek!" The second boy, with a gray blazer and a pretentious fedora yelled.

His call to attention brought all three sets of eyes from the phone to me. I turned away from them quickly, taking the long way to my locker in a futile attempt to avoid them.

"Hey." I heard an unfamiliar voice yelling from the hall. It was coming from behind me. I heard a set of squeaky shoes scuff against the tile, followed by the faces of the same two boys standing in front of me, the one with the fedora and the other with the hoody. I looked back to see the third boy standing by a locker in the distance, he had the same look on his face that the cheerleader had. To say he was uneasy would have been an understatement.

"Hey, hold up." The fedora kid said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"Do I know you?" I asked while brushing his hand away. I gave them both the most intimidating stare I was capable of. I had no idea who they were and it only made me more angry that they were trying act like they did.

"No, but you're number thirty four right?" They turned the phone towards me.

On the screen was a YouTube video on pause. The heading for the video said "Freak Accident At Illinois State Championship." It was a video shot from a cell phone taken by someone on the sidelines.

I was about to be subjected to it all over again, the pain. I was going to be forced to watch what I had done, and before I could turn away the video was already rolling.

"Dude you messed this kid up, bro." The hooded kid said while I tried to turn away from the video. They both laughed excitedly as the video continued to play. Something drew my eyes back, maybe it was the guilt of knowing that this was all my fault and that I deserved this torture. I owed to the kid I'd killed to watch this video and be tormented by it.

The screen stayed focused on the huddle, then showed the handoff to me. I broke a second tackle, then a third and headed for the backfield towards the safety. The safety whose life I ended. I watched as my body slammed into his, the blood spurting from his mouth and onto my hands and jersey. I watched as he tried to hold on to me, his tackling discipline flawless, even as he started to black out and crumpled to the ground. I watched all of it. 

My stomach started to turn sour and that quiet anger began to stir inside me. They were trying to be friendly, they probably didn't even know that the kid would be dead at the end of the day, but I didn't care. My blood boiled as they turned to each other and laughed, then rewound the clip again.

"Oh, there it is!" The hooded kid remarked.

"Look, look. Watch him wipe the blood off his helmet." The kid in the fedora said pointing to me. He then excitedly slapped my shoulder to try and get me to acknowledge them.

The phone was no longer facing me at that point.

"Turn it off." I muttered, my fist shaking.

The two boys didn't hear me, they kept on going. Their unintended, but cruel high school insensitivity would not stop, and as they continued to watch, my brain shut off. I didn't black out or anything ridiculous like that. I knew what I was doing, it was just in that moment, I stopped caring. I should have chided them on showing respect, that the boy lost his life or was going to and that it wasn't cool what they were doing. I should have done anything other than what I did.