The Teacher's Assistant

Broken Plate

"Hey look who is here! Look who finally decided to show up for lunch! Where were you? Kissing up to the new teacher? You know that won't be enough to help a dumb poor person like yourself." A personal greeting from Peter's least favorite person on the planet. His name didn't matter, his friends didn't matter, not even his last name mattered. Nothing about the broad faced senior with expensive clothes had any relevance.

"Here Peter, I saved you a seat and some of my lunch too." He said snickering with his friends.

Peter tensed, he desperately wanted a witty comeback to pop into his mind. Nothing came, all the seats were taken and he had no choice but sit down on the bench.

"Oh slow down there Peter, you didn't think we saved all this room for you!" The stocky senior shoved his body into Peter pushing him up against his friend who did likewise until Peter was crushed between them.

"F*** off!" Peter blurted out much louder than he thought.

"Uh oh, Peter just used a bad word." The senior giggled sarcastically. " We don't use naughty words like that here Peter..." The boys laughed at him.

One of the male teachers walked over, "Peter you're coming to the office right now."

Cussing was not tolerated at Farnsfield, it was a small christian school where students were expected to act not only obedient, but Godly.

Peter learned it was useless to argue, he got up and slowly followed the man. But just before he was out of earshot he heard, "Hey just because you can't dress right doesn't mean you can't act right!"

He stopped for a moment, taking in the snickering behind him. His fists instinctively clenched and he became rigid like a dog before a fight. His face filled with quivering anger and he clenched his jaws so hard his teeth hurt. He was going to turn around, he was going to turn around and hit the cocky jock giggling behind him.

"What are you doing Peter?" The teacher asked impatiently.

Peter didn't reply or move. He stood there burning with rage. He turned around and took a step in the direction of his oppressor.

"Peter get back over here!" The teacher shouted. He didn't hear him though, he didn't hear anything except the sound of his heart throbbing in his chest.

"Get back over here or you are going to be suspended!" The words fell on deaf ears. Peter grabbed a plate and broke into a quick sprint. The jock was talking to his friends again. He had his back turned to Peter.

"You little piece of S**T!" He yelled, this time on purpose for the whole school to hear. The older boy turned around, "What the..." He was cut short as a clay plate crashed into his head. There was a loud "smash!" and hundreds of shards flew in all directions. The large boy fell with a loud "thump!" to the floor.

Peter didn't stop. He kicked his unconscious oppressor than jumped on him throwing wild punches at his face. With each one his oppressor's once arrogant face grew more disfigured. Blood began to trickle from his broken nose.

So this is what revenge tasted like? Every blow felt so sweet.

Two strong arms tore him off the boy and shook him, "What the hell do you think you are doing!"

Peter didn't answer. He looked at the body on the floor groaning. He felt euphoric.

He was shook again, "Look at me son! I SAID WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? You could have just killed that boy. Do you understand!?

Peter said nothing. The man yanked him out of the gym.