Bully No More
Jennifer Zwaniga
Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Zwaniga
Smashwords Edition
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
“Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!”
Excited chanting echoed down the congested expanse of the Smithwood High corridor.
Fourteen-year-old Kendra Roszell scrutinized the circle of swarming students, a tight knot gripping her stomach. A feeling of apprehensiveness overwhelmed her, as it always did when groups gathered like that. It was almost never a good sign, and usually meant one thing—bullying.
“Wonder what’s up?” Jada McKinnon asked, grabbing Kendra by her sweater sleeve. “Let’s check it out.”
“What’s the point?” Kendra’s short, dark blond hair bounced as she shook her head in frustration. She hated the bullying that went on in school, but felt helpless to do anything about it.
Reluctantly, she allowed Jada to drag her in the direction of the mob as their friend Audrey Hamilton followed close behind. Why isn’t there ever a teacher around when this stuff is going on?
Kendra was too short to see over the sea of bobbing heads, but she could hear just fine. What she heard was the voice Chad Buchanan. And where you found Chad, you were sure to find Hunter Greenfield and Brandon Cooper close by. Kendra didn’t know them, but she knew their names and their reputation—everyone did.
Chad’s deep, gravely voice could be heard over the harmonized chanting. “Listen, geek. I said kiss my feet.”
His menacing tone sent a chill up Kendra’s spine. What kind of jerk got off on telling some poor kid to kiss his big stinky feet? It made her sick.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” the mob continued.
“Maybe we should get some help,” Kendra whispered.
Jada groaned. “Are you kidding?” She tucked a loose strand of her sleek black hair behind her ear. “That’s just asking for more trouble. I value my life too much to rat on those guys.”
Audrey nodded. “Let’s split.”
“I wonder who they’re torturing today?” Jada looked over her shoulder one last time as they fled the scene.
Kendra shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to. The less I know about those jerks the better. I can’t believe the way people crowd around and encourage it, too. They’re just as bad.”
As they rounded the corner, the incident was out of sight but far from out of mind. The uneasy feeling lingered with Kendra throughout the day.
As Kendra and her friends exited the school’s front entrance at the end of the day, her attention was drawn to the solitary form of a slumped and shivering boy. Leaning against the red-bricked wall, his breath was visible in the frigid January air. It was Lucas Nowak, a lifelong friend of Kendra’s family who had recently moved into the area. Today had been his first day at Smithwood High.
Kendra moved closer to him. “Lucas?”
The timid boy, looking younger than his fourteen years in his oversized winter coat, lifted his downcast eyes to meet hers. His thick glasses were fogged over. Wiping them with his glove, he revealed red, puffy eyes.
Kendra hurried to his side. “Are you okay?”
Lucas looked with distrust from Jada to Audrey, then turned his attention back to Kendra. “This school bites,” he whispered.
Kendra wondered what could have happened to make him so upset. It couldn’t have been that bad, could it? She turned from Lucas to her friends. She had plans with Audrey and Jada and really wanted to go with them, but he obviously needed a friend. Though torn, she knew where she was needed most.
Kendra sighed. “Why don’t you guys go on without me? I’ll try to meet up with you later.”
“What?” Audrey whined. “I need your help with my portrait drawing for art.”
Kendra turned to Lucas, hoping he would tell her to go ahead with her friends, but instead was hit with a look of desperation. “I’ll call you later,” Kendra told her friends. “Maybe I can come by after supper.”
Kendra watched Jada and Audrey trudge off through the deep snow in their running shoes. In the few short minutes she’d been out in the frosty air, Kendra’s ears already stung. She zipped her blue and white Columbia Snow Twist Parka up to her chin, refusing to use the pullout hood, and drew her head into the limited protection the collar provided. Lucas, she noticed, had a knit hat pulled snuggly over his ears and wore big, heavy winter boots. Warm, no doubt, but definitely not cool.
“Come on,” Kendra said. “I’ll walk home with you.”
Lucas fell into step beside her, dragging his feet and staring at the ground.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Lucas shook his head, but answered her anyway. “Everybody sucks.”
“Everybody?”
Lucas nodded. “Mom said it would be better here, but it’s not. It’s worse.
Kendra wasn’t sure what to say to him. She hated that he felt so bad, but what could she do about it? “So, what happened?”
Lucas dragged his gloved hand across his glasses to wipe away the frost. “Lots of stuff,” he said. “There were some guys bugging me at lunch. I was trying to get to the cafeteria and they wouldn’t let me by. They were calling me names and ...” He hesitated.
“And what?” Kendra asked softly, her earlier feeling of unease intensifying and stirring up her gut.
Lucas choked on his words. “He made me kiss his feet in front of everybody before he let me go.”
Kendra gasped. It had been Lucas in the hallway at lunch. Crap. Now she felt even worse for ignoring it. But what could she have done? It wasn’t like she could have stopped them. But a nagging, guilty voice in her head told her she could have gone for help.
“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Kendra said. “I know the guys you’re talking about, and they’re real jerk-offs. But they’re like that with everybody. I bet by tomorrow they’ll have forgotten all about you.”
“Do you think so?” A hint of hope glimmered in his otherwise dull brown eyes.
“I’m sure of it.” She wasn’t sure of it at all but felt the need to say something encouraging. It must be lousy to be picked on that way. “Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to some of my friends.”
A weak smile crossed Lucas’ face. He nodded.
After dinner that evening, Kendra went to Audrey’s house. A sketchbook with Audrey’s portrait of Jada was open in front of Kendra for input. Kendra had a true talent when it came to portrait sketching. Her dream was to someday become a police officer and work as a suspect composite artist. She’d often practiced with Jada and Audrey, drawing faces of people based on their descriptions, and found that nine times out of ten she ended up with a recognizable portrait.
Whenever Audrey struggled with her drawings, she came to Kendra for help. Kendra scrutinized the picture, trying to figure out exactly what wasn’t working. The nose was just a bit too big and the forehead a little too wide. The eyes were slightly too far apart too. To Kendra’s keen eye, it resembled more of a caricature, but with a few changes it could be passable as Jada.
Without thinking, she grabbed an eraser and began repair work on Audrey’s sketch. As she worked, she told her friends about what had happened to Lucas at school. “I feel terrible for him.”
Audrey grabbed a hair band from her dresser and pulled her long blond hair back, exposing her heart-shaped face. “From what you’ve told me about this kid, he sounds like he’s pretty much a nerd, though. I’m not surprised those guys picked up on him so fast. Some people seem to be magnets for teasing.”
Jada chuckled. “Lucas must be a pretty strong magnet. He didn’t even get through his first day.”
Kendra pushed down on the sketching pencil, snapping off the lead tip. She turned her eyes from the portrait and stared daggers at her friends. “That’s a pretty rotten thing to say.”
“Well, it’s true,” said Audrey.
“Do you think that because Lucas is different and shy—okay, and maybe a bit nerdy—that he deserves to be picked on? How would you like it?”
“I wouldn’t,” Jada admitted.
“Me either.” Audrey shifted her blue eyes to the floor.
“So, you’ll help me with Lucas then? Show him around, introduce him to a few people, be nice to him?”
Audrey gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding. I mean, yeah I’ll be nice to the guy, but you can’t honestly expect us to hang around with him?”
“Why not?”
“Oh-my-god,” Jada said. “I just said I wouldn’t like to be picked on. Hanging out with someone like him is social suicide. It would destroy our reputation.”
“What reputation?” Kendra challenged. “It’s not like we’re super-popular or something. What reputation is going to be ruined?”
“Okay. So, maybe we aren’t in with the popular crowd, but we’re not exactly losers either. We do just fine, and nobody bugs us. I’d like to keep it that way.”
Brandon shoved a hand deep into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a pack of smokes, offering one to both Chad and Hunter. He shuffled along the icy sidewalk, the untied laces of his Nike sneakers dragging along the ground with each step.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette, his exposed hand numb with cold. “Man, this weather bites,” he grumbled. “I need to move back to Texas or something.”
Chad laughed. “Wuss.”
Brandon cringed. He hated being called a wuss, even though he knew Chad was kidding. He was no wuss. To prove it, he flicked his cigarette to the ground, scooped up a handful of packing snow with his bare hands, formed a snowball, and blasted it at Chad’s back.
Chad whirled around to see who the culprit was and found Brandon laughing.
“Wuss, my ass,” Brandon said.
“You’re gonna get it now,” Chad warned, grinning wickedly.
“Hold on,” Hunter said. “I got a better idea.”
“Oh yeah?” Chad asked. “What would be better right now than kicking Brandon’s ass?”
Hunter nodded to a group of students walking in front of them.
“You may have a point.” Chad turned to Brandon and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re off the hook this time, Cooper.”
Brandon feigned terror. “I’m shaking.”
“Smartass.” Chad formed a snowball and drilled it up ahead, plastering his intended victim in the back of the head. Hunter’s snowball hit the next kid on the butt, and Brandon’s whizzed past the head of a third boy, missing its target. The three boys, having realized whom it was throwing snowballs at them, broke into a run.
“Nice shot, Cooper,” Chad taunted. “Guess you can only hit someone standing two feet away. Maybe you really are a wuss.”
To prove Chad wrong, Brandon swiftly formed another snowball. Giving chase, he took aim and threw, this time making his mark. Brandon, Chad, and Hunter broke into fits of laughter as the three victims doubled their pace to avoid further assault.
“See,” Chad said. “Winter ain’t so bad.”
Before entering the school, they stopped for a final smoke in the smoking area at the back the schoolyard. Given the bitter cold weather, it was nearly empty. Only the true diehards endured the exposure to the lacerating winds and the freezing temperatures.
A wet snow fell from the sky, turning everything it landed on to ice. Icicles had formed on the strands of thick brown hair that hung well past Brandon’s shoulders, and a layer of frost covered the rings of Hunter’s and Chad’s eyebrow piercings.
Brandon tossed his cigarette butt into the snow, where it sizzled and went out. “I’m outta here. It’s too friggin’ cold. If I ever wanted a reason to quit smoking, this would do it.”
“Wimp,” Chad muttered. He put out his smoke and followed the others inside.
Brandon felt relieved by the blast of warm air that greeted him when he entered the school. When he and his mom moved to Ontario two years ago to live with his grandma, he’d never expected it to be this cold. He blew warm air into his hands and rubbed them together.
The sea of students in the corridor parted and scattered to the perimeter of the hallway, making way for them as they strutted by. Stone-faced, Brandon met the eyes of a passing student, who immediately looked to the floor. He smiled with satisfaction at the fear he could evoke from a mere look. He was definitely no wimp.
They reached Chad’s locker and waited while he hung his leather coat. Pushing up the sleeves of his Metallica concert shirt, Chad revealed the tattooed skull on his forearm and a black leather wristband. He’d been forced to resign himself to wearing the band without the studs because the school banned them as potential weapons.
Brandon studied Chad’s solid, muscular frame, tattoo, and multiple ear and eyebrow piercings and had to admit he was glad to have Chad on his side. His life had taken a significant turn when he’d hooked up with these guys.
He remembered the day he’d first met Chad and Hunter like it were only yesterday. The two of them had been sitting on the rickety steps of Chad’s teardown of a house. When he spotted them, while passing by one day, he stopped and waved to them calling out ‘hi y’all,’ in his thick southern drawl. After they’d picked themselves up from near-hysterical fits of laughter, they tromped over to where Brandon stood with a confused look on his face and told him, in no uncertain terms, that if they ever heard him talking like such a queer again they would personally kick his ass. Though, deep down, Brandon was tempted to flee, he stood his ground, determined not to let them see his fear.
The hot, humid July day was still clear in Brandon’s mind; mostly because, in spite of the heat, Chad and Hunter had both donned black leather jackets. They were the epitome of cool. When Brandon went home that night, he scrounged up just about every cent he’d ever saved and bought his own leather jacket.
For the next several weeks, he’d made a point of passing by Chad’s house in hopes of running into them. They always stopped what they were doing—which usually wasn’t much—to talk to Brandon. Sometimes he got the impression that the only reason they gave him the time of day was because they were amused by what they called his accent. He hated the fact that they laughed at it, but at least they were talking to him.
Determined to blend in, Brandon worked hard to lose his accent, going as far as practicing out loud in the privacy of his bedroom. Within the next several months, he had all but lost it; it still tended to surface now and again if he became excited or upset. But he never made the mistake of saying ‘y’all’ again.
They continued down the hall, first to Hunter’s locker, then Brandon’s. The feeling was finally coming back to Brandon’s hands, he noticed with relief. They were dry, split, and sore, but at least he could feel them again. Maybe he shouldn’t be so stubborn about not wearing the gloves his grandma insisted on. Then again, he wasn’t about to have his friends think he couldn’t hack the cold.
Raising his eyebrows and indicating with his eyes to a pretty blond at the locker next to Brandon’s, Hunter sidled up between them and brushed up against her. The girl jumped back in surprise. “Hey, babe,” Hunter whispered, gyrating his hips toward her. “Wanna go out?”
The poor girl’s eyes widened with shock, and a look of horror spread across her face. She slammed her locker door shut, and without a word, rushed off. Chad and Hunter erupted into laughter. Brandon chuckled along side them, but couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for her.
Disgusted, Kendra shook her head. Had that jerk actually been thrusting himself toward that girl? Guys could be such asses. How did they get away with acting like that? The girl had obviously been upset by whatever it was Hunter had said to her—she could only imagine what perverse thing it must have been. She hated when guys made sexual comments to her—not that it happened a lot. She wasn’t exactly the kind of person that attracted a lot of attention from guys—which she decided might be a good thing. She was tempted to say something, but it was none of her business. Still, it made her crazy to stand by and watch them get away with it.
At supper that night, Kendra sat down with her parents and her sixteen-year-old brother, Eric, and told them the story about the girl and about what had happened to Lucas the previous day. “It makes me so angry. I feel like I should do something, but I don’t know what.”
“Maybe you could beat them up,” Eric suggested, still chewing. He grinned at Kendra who looked back at him with disgust.
“That’s not even funny,” their mother scolded, with a look of horror on her face. “Don’t go doing anything foolish.”
“Are these boys dangerous?” their father asked. His forehead furrowed with concern.
Eric shook his head. “Naw. I don’t think so—not really anyway. They act all tough and scary, but I don’t think they’ve ever hurt anyone too badly.”
“I think you should stay as far away from them as possible, and try to do whatever you can to help Lucas make some friends,” her mother said. She sighed. “Poor Lucas. He always seems to have such a tough time fitting in.”
Her father turned to Eric. “What about you? Anything you can do to help Lukie out?”
Eric’s eyes widened and he pointed to himself. “Me? Wadda ya want me to do?”
“Introduce him to some of your buddies.”
“No way. Uh uh.” Eric shook his head. My friends would never hang out with a kid like Lucas. Besides he’s too young. Let Kendra deal with him.” He shoveled some mashed potatoes and pork chops into his mouth, making smacking noises as he chewed.
Kendra cringed. Her brother was such a slob. Watching him eat was almost enough to make her lose her appetite. It was times like this—when Eric was being such a moron—that Kendra missed having Scott and Michael, her twenty-three-year-old twin brothers from her mother’s first marriage, around. They had moved out a year ago. Even though she was closer in age to Eric, and they shared the same parents, it was Scott and Michael who she’d always got along with the best—probably because she was so much younger and they were protective of her. Eric preferred to torment her.
“I just wish people weren’t so mean,” Kendra said, continuing her thoughts on the bullying situation at school. “I want to help when I see kids getting picked on, but I don’t know if I should. Forget what Eric says, these guys are scary.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” her mom said, “I think you should stay far away from them. Maybe if you see someone being picked on you could go to a teacher or the principal and let them deal with it. It’s not your responsibility.”
Kendra thought about what her mother had said. Maybe it wasn’t her responsibility, but someone had to be responsible. Otherwise when would things ever change?