The Choir He Wanted, The LIfe He Had

Tuesday, March 20, 1937

The dining hall was busy and noisy when Roger and I arrived. After looking around, I spotted Ralph sitting with some of his friends.

"Look," I said to Roger, pointing to where Ralph was sitting, "There he is."

"What should we do?" Roger asked, smirking. I looked at him and smirked myself.

"Look at that kid sitting in front of him," I said. We both returned our gaze to Ralph's table. Sitting in front of him was an overweight boy I had never seen before.

A perfect person on whom to take out the anger that had been growing in me the past two days.

The Monday after I had had my infamous solo, the choir boys and anyone else who was there had made fun of me. They called me names, they teased me. At practice, they blocked the choir room door during our break so I couldn't go to use the restroom, and so that I had to go in the middle of practice or else risk wetting myself again. I had been hurt and angry and had wanted nothing more than to hurt another person, to make them feel how I felt.

"Come on," I said. Roger nodded and the two of us walked to Ralph's table.

"Eh! Fatty!" I yelled. I heard people laughing and the boy's body tensed. Ralph leaned closer to him and I saw his mouth moving. I ignored him and kept going.

"Oi!" I yelled, "I'm talking to you!" I put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, turning to look at me. He wore thick, round glasses, just another trait to insult.

"You new here?" I asked, taking my hand off his shoulder and placing both hands on my hips.

"Yeah," the boy replied. His voice was quiet and he had a rather thick English accent.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Gene," he said quietly.

"Gene?" Roger asked, laughing. He pointed to the food spread out on the table and said, "Look at all that food! I think your name should be Piggy!"

The table erupted into laughter. The boy whom people would forevermore call "Piggy" blushed and turned away. Ralph slammed his hands on the table and jumped up.

"Jack why can't you be an arse somewhere else?" he said.

"Me?" I asked in mock offense, placing a hand over my heart. "Excuse me, but that was Roger who said that."

"But you brought it on," Ralph retaliated.

"Why don't you just shut up, Ralph!" I yelled.

"Why don't you just shut up...Jack 'Pee' Merridew," Ralph said. Again, everyone burst into laughter, but now it was directed at me. My face burned with embarrassment and anger. My middle name started with the letter "P", and Roger used that fact to his advantage. He made multiple nicknames out of my name, all of them revolving around urine-related humor. Not only did he call me these names in choir, but also around school. Soon the entire school was calling me names, and only in a matter of half a day. I was furious, hurt, humiliated. Now all of the emotions bundled together into one raging emotion:

Anger.

"So it was you who told Roger about my middle name!" I cried.

"Oh, so he has used it against you," Ralph replied. He paused for a second, then added, "And by the way, I was at the concert on Friday night. I saw the whooole thing. I was sitting in the front row with my mother and your father, and your accident was really quite obvious."

I stomped around the table until I was inches from his face.

"You were at the concert?" I asked, my voice no more than a whisper.