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You see, there’s something in my genetic makeup that kicks in, at times, and takes complete control of me. It’s like a switch that flicks on, starting up a maniacal focus mixed with a willingness to use violence to get my way. I first really paid attention to it in eighth grade.
I used to doodle a lot, and wound up sketching women for the boys in my classes. Beautiful women. Anatomically correct...and very, very nude. Got those randy little shits feeling their testosterone. I’d sell them for a dollar and did okay business.
But then two schoolyard bullies...Kenneth and Leo...got hold of one and threatened to turn me into the principal if I didn't give them half of what I made.
I told them, "Go ahead." Automatic, on my part. Nobody blackmails me, even at the age of fourteen.
So they did, and I got into huge trouble. Dragged into the principal's office. My folks were brought in. I was called a pornographer and horrible and needed to rethink my path in life and on and on. Slapped me with a two week suspension, and I was told if I was caught doing it, again, I’d be expelled.
As if that would be a punishment.
I hated that school. So I said nothing in response. Wouldn’t have made any difference, anyway. I loved those two weeks off.
We were living in Fontana, at the time, thanks to my dad’s work at the airport. I had to ride a school bus since my folks were both deep into working and couldn’t take me. Half the brats on that bus were complete dicks to me because I wasn’t a cool kid, nor all that built up, back then, and I read a lot. That made me more nerd than they approved of.
As for the teachers, they all wanted to make sure I understood that I was not living up to my potential, even though I was getting As and Bs... Well, except in art class. That dick hated everything I did and often used it as an example of what not to do...like a drawing of boots in a desert should minimize the shadows. Minimize shadows under a desert sun? Seriously? So it Cs only, there...which is part of the reason I shifted my focus to writing. Got As in English.
Anyway, when 1 returned Kenneth and Leo and their little pack started in on me. Verbal harassment. Physical. That included one girl who rode the same school bus as me. She and I had ignored each other, since she got on the bus before me en route to school and had her clique of mean girls to be with on the trip home. But then she started getting on after me in the afternoon and as she passed would smack me on the head with a ring she wore. It had a large, sharp rhinestone on it which she'd shift around to her palm side, to hide what she was doing.
I told her to stop.
She wouldn't.
So come Friday when she did it, again, I smacked her in the side. She hit me again and I smacked her, again. And again. This continued until blood trailed down my face. She yelped and quickly moved away to be with her clique, giggling nervously.
I just felt for the cut and pressed on it to stop the bleeding.
Fucking bus driver did nothing about it.
When my mother got home she freaked out over the blood on my shirt and backpack, but I wouldn’t tell her what happened. I had locked into this anger and revenge mode. And quickly worked out exactly what to do to Kenneth and his pack, on Monday.
The day came.
The pack of bullies swarmed me in a hallway, howling and threatening and snarling...
Until Kenneth shoved me against the lockers. He hadn’t noticed I had a nice, sharp #2 pencil in my hand. I jerked my arm up and rammed it into the back of his left bicep. Tore in at an angle, and stuck.
It was beautiful. Blood flew. Howls of pain. Students screamed. Teachers rushed over. A chaos of voices roared over each other as Kenneth showed them his arm and his pack pointed at me.
He was carted off to the nurse’s station while I was hauled into the principal's office and told I was going to jail for assault.
But this time I played the wide-eyed innocent and said, “It was an accident. He shoved me and my arm jerked, that’s all.”
The principal didn’t believe me...until one teacher who'd actually seen it but was doing nothing to stop it was dumb enough to say, "He didn't shove you that hard."
Which backed my claim up. As did the security cam that caught it all. No charges filed. Still a two-week suspension. But after that, the bullies left me alone.
Probably because I whispered to Leo the first day I was back, “Next one goes in an eye.”
Nicky flicked the switch on that attitude when he pulled his first asshole stunt while zooming past me on the bike pathway. It wasn’t overwhelming, yet, not like it could be. But it grew and expanded every time I saw him swooshing past and being his usual dickish self...
Until taking him enveloped me.
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