The Hearteyes Zone (A One-Shot Collection)

Bully

Note: No sexual content, but a boy is bullied.
♡

Antoine Elizabeth, 13. Student of the urban Ralph Bunch Middle School.

Ralph Bunch Middle School. Collective tormenter of one Antoine Elizabeth.

Young Antoine has in-school suspension for the third time this month. His crime? Self-defense. Intervention is the responsibility of the school and the home, but what happens when both systems fail? Can a hero be found? Or will hope forever be lost in… The Hearteyes Zone.

—–

Antoine was far from unintelligent, although it was difficult for him to focus on what the teacher said. His mind kept going to his little brother, Amir. The schools provided lunch free lunch, but what would they eat for dinner? How could he get home without getting jumped? These were the pressing issues. Identifying the countries in Asia, conjunctions, and jumping jacks in P.E. just didn’t seem that important in comparison. This was exactly why kids sold drugs. His stomach growled and he put his head down on his desk.

“Uh uh, Mr. Elizabeth,” Ms. Park snapped. The other kids snickered, not even upset to be punished. Content to witness Antoine in a miserable state. After having his head slammed into a locker, Antoine swung at the closest person to him. He’d connected with the shoulder of Anthony Harris, 13 and was quickly knocked down by Roger Williams, 13. Stomped on by Jeremy White, 12. They’d all been whisked to in-school suspension and the incident was dismissed as rough-housing.. yet again.

“You know better than that. This ain’t your bedroom, you in here for a reason! You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself! Sit up, NOW!”

Antoine sat up silently, his stomach gurgling audibly.

“Hungry hungry hippo,” Roger mumbled bringing laughs from the other boys. Ms. Park hid her laughter, but again, Antoine was no fool. He was deeply hurt.

—

Riding the school bus wasn’t much better. These three boys were relentless day in and day out.

“He smell like open booty cheeks,” Roger cracked, gaining boldness from the cacophony of howls, claps, and snorts.

“His momma a crackhead.. She suck dick for a dolla, my dad saw her.. He can’t afford soap.. He smell like garbage juice.. His breath smell hot eggs.. He look like Rick Ross nephew.. He look like a bowl of cooked hotdogs.. Why his shirt so dingy?.. His momma ain’t got no quarters?.. Why he breathe so hard?.. What are thoooose..” Roger went on and on everyday. Antoine had long given up on looking to the bus driver. The driver would never intervene.

The three boys along with two girls got off the bus at Antoine’s stop as usual. The two girls went their own way while the boys followed Antoine. He immediately prepared for the fight he knew was coming. Blood and pain had become an expected norm. Everyday he faced this. He ran as fast as his heavy legs could take him, but Jeremy caught up, yanking his collar back with all his strength. Antoine fell backward, his head colliding hard with the pavement as he tried unsuccessfully to grab hold of Jeremy. The boys ran, leaving him to lay there.. bleeding and fading out.

Darkness.

“You good lil nigga?” A voice came and Antoine opened his eyes slowly letting his vision adjust. He was indoors. Using the strength he could muster, he pulled himself upright with a harsh wince. He was in an unknown living room on a wide couch. He blew a small bronze feather off of his shirt wondering where it came from and followed the voice spotting a man to his left, lounging in a large matching chair. The man was muscular and scary looking. He looked as though he could be a navy seal or mercenary. Maybe a drug dealer. Someone tough. Antoine grabbed the spot on his head that ached and pulled his hand away to spot the remnants of drying blood and another feather.