That time I got rejected three times on the same day!

Chapter 8

The orange flew fast and true. I didn't expect it to start so early, but nothing surprised me these days. I brought my arm up to guard my face and it hit me in the chest. Very few kids had even noticed what had happened and only a few sniggered. I looked down and saw that the orange had not ruptured on impact. Usually when a fruit was still whole I would eat it, just to spite the bullies, but today I was in a retaliatory mood. The kid who had thrown it was sitting on a bench in front of his class, pointing at me and laughing. I bent down and picked it up. My attacker cupped his hands together, shouting from a distance.

"What are you going to do with that dickhead?"

His friends next to him started hollering and jeering. I remembered these three, they had thrown things before, and I had not retaliated. They are what I called class 3 bullies. Class 3s were like monkeys, they bullied other kids because they wanted to imitate the real bullies. To them bullying was a laugh, a bit of entertainment. Class 2 Bullies were your average bullies. They had issues of acceptance and were attention seekers; they were also often bullied themselves. Class 1 Bullies were the worst. Class 1s were completely messed up and bullied obsessively for sport and enjoyment. These were the kids who had real psychological disorders. Class 3s, unlike 1s and 2s, could be ignored and usually stopped bullying when they lost interest, but I wasn't going to let this one slide. Ashamedly, I had recognized a bully within myself, probably because I was a victim, but I acted it out on my family and sister, instead of at school.

The three bullies on the bench were too far away to see my expression clearly. Had they seen my malicious smile, they probably would have run. I raised the orange up for them to see.

"HAVE AN ORANGE!" I yelled, hurling it straight at them.

I wasn't aiming for anyone in particular, just generally throwing it in their direction. Well, I guess that was a bit of a lie. I think subconsciously I was aiming for the head of the kid who had thrown it. In a fountain of orange juice the structurally compromised orange exploded across the kids face and covered his friends in sticky liquid and fruit shrapnel. The kid's expression just before the orange had hit him had burned itself into my mind, and the shout of fright from his friends had been intensely satisfying. I stood there gloating. I wanted to burst out laughing, a maniacal laugh that would ring in everyone's ears for the rest of the school day. I didn't, but I still couldn't wipe the self-satisfied smile off my face.

Unluckily, Ms.Hockney, the English teacher, had been passing by at just the wrong time.

"HENRY! COME HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" she called out to me.

She sounded uncannily like my mother.

"Ohhh shit," I muttered under my breath.

I walked towards her and the stricken bullies.

"What do you have to say for yourself young man? Throwing food is unacceptable."

Should I say something to my defence or keep quiet? I was weighing up the possible outcomes of both strategies. Saying something in my defence had not worked previously. Last time I had tried that, the teacher had looked for corroborating stories from other 'witnesses'. The other kids didn't want to stand up for me and possibly becoming a target of the bullies themselves, so they kept quiet. I was angry at the time, but I understood their feelings. This situation was my fault and I could have handled it better.

I looked up at Ms.Hockney's face, which sat atop a rotund body that ambled instead of walked.

"Sorry Miss," I said simply.

She wagged her finger at me, while the bullies pulled faces behind her.

"Don't do it again young man. Now shake hands with Joshua."

I don't really understand what teachers and parents thought shaking hands would accomplish. It always humiliated the victim and gave the bully a psychological edge for the next encounter. It didn't bother me though. Like water off a ducks back, I would repeat to myself. Joshua wasn't quite done with me yet though. He left me hanging, my hand outreached in friendship. He turned to Ms.Hockney.

"I'm scared Miss. He might squeeze my hand to hard. Henry is always bullying everyone."

Ms.Hockney was dense. Unlike wily Mr.Williams, she had no clue about kids and how they treated each other. She was eating up Joshua's words. I wondered if that is how she became so pudgy, eating up everyone's bullshit.

"Henry, this behaviour is unacceptable. I will have to make a note of this and talk about it with your parents at the next parent-teacher night."

Do what you want, you fat bitch. Mother would make a scene about it at home. Father was too busy with work to care. Joshua had succeeded; he had hurt me with this. I felt shame for falling for such a crude goading. My arm was still hanging in the air and Joshua was sneering at me.

I would get him, somehow, somewhere; I really wanted to hurt Joshua physically. Revenge was not my thing. Anger and hate only ate you up from the inside. I had always had some minor anger issues, but my martial arts training had kept that in check. Now there was a seething anger boiling beneath my emotionally apathetic exterior. Ms.Hockney was writing a note and I was still waiting to be dismissed. All the kids on the playground had already disappeared into their classes for first period. It was just me, Ms.Hockney, Joshua, and his two bully buddies.

"Can I go Miss?" I said.

She waved her hand dismissively.

"Don't get into any more trouble Henry. I'll be watching you from now on."

If you can keep up with me fatty. I left Ms.Hockney and the bullies to their own devices and headed to my class. I was already formulating an excuse for Mr. Devlin, who was going to be teaching social science in first period.