Happy

Chapter 2.

As his mother had feared, Happy didn't exactly sit well among the other students in his class. Although Randy had added a curly rainbow wig to match with his striped jumpsuit, the multicolored puff bouncing on his head wasn't enough to distract them from the facial features on the hideous disguise. The majority of the kids were frightened by him and the ones who weren't, the ones like Victor Mendoza, teased him relentlessly throughout the day.

But Victor had no limits.

"Randy wants candy! Randy wants candy!" Randy, his voice muffled through the mask, impatiently slammed his hand onto the teacher's table. Eagerly, he waited in the short line and watched as she dropped a handful of sweets into each of his classmate's open palms. She finally made her way to him and, well aware of his illness, made sure to give him a few extra bite-size caramel chews. It was enough to make the boy flushed as he grinned from ear-to-ear. "Thank you, Ms. Palmer!"

Not long after Ms. Palmer moved on to the next student, Victor had turned around to tauntingly flick the tip of Randy's nose. Although he was only a year older, his voice was much deeper—and much more intimidating—than that of the other boys in their class. "After school, loser."

And he wasn't bluffing. Randy took his normal route as he cut through the newly renovated playground when he heard someone call to him but not by his name. He swallowed the last piece of candy he had and shoved the wrapper into his pocket before turning around nervously.

"Hey, dipshit!" Victor walked away from his group of friends to approach him. It didn't take long for a smile to set in between his chubby cheeks. "Nice hair. I always knew you were a queer."

That's near identical to what his father had told Randy when him and his mother had arrived home from the store. The man already had enough hatred fueling his blood as it was when, just a couple of weeks back, a news station covered a report about how gay rights activists held a political rally in Washington, D.C. referred to as The Great March. To him, homosexuals were nothing but "vile, AIDS-infested abominations that don't deserve to be on this planet." Although he would never argue with his father, or the buckled end of his belt, Randy never could grasp the reasoning behind the man's disparaging words. However, his obedience wasn't enough to keep him off his father's radar when he excitedly walked through the front door carrying the colorful outfit in his hands. Randy clenched his fist as he remembered the argument that had erupted shortly thereafter between his parents.

"Are you deaf?" The bully now stood in front of him, quickly reaching forward to jab at Randy's shoulder. "I'm talking to you, faggot."

Randy mumbled under his breath, "Stop."

"What?" Victor raised an exaggerated, open hand next to his ear. "I can't hear you, loser. Speak up."

"Stop!" Randy pleaded in a louder tone. "Please..."

The other students began to gather around the two. Randy's body trembled before a dark splotch formed in the crotch of his jumpsuit and slowly spread down the inseam of his pant legs. Everyone burst into laughter as he felt the tears flooding down his cheeks from behind the mask and, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to make a run for his house. Yet, drenched in both embarrassment and his own urine, he remained frozen in a state of panic and was unable to move a muscle.

Victor's smile faded as he glanced down but, instead of making a comment or tossing out another insult, he peered back up at Randy and—for brief a moment—the slightest glimpse of compassion beamed in the boy's dark brown eyes. That was until his brows narrowed and Randy found his gaze met with a menacing glare so unnerving that it spread tension to even Victor's friends bearing witness to his seemingly endless turmoil.

A boy laughs in the background, "The freak pissed his pants!"

"Eww." A girl gasps.

Even with silence alone, Victor continued to strike fear into Randy as he further approached him.

"Puh... Puh..." Randy struggled to speak, "Puh-lease... don't."

"Puh! Puh!" Victor mocked him, adding a flamboyant tone to his contrived stutter, "Puh-ussy." The smirk reappeared on his freckled face as his voice adjusted back to its normal insolence, "What's wrong? Did you forget how to talk?"

Perhaps he did after all. More students began to join the crowd swarming around them and Randy remained still, distrait by the heated commotion as it grew louder with each passing second.

"Guess my parents were right. You are a loony." Victor continued, paying no attention to Randy's fist tightening as he took another step toward his prey. "Tell me, do you get that from your whore mother or alcoholic fath—"

The sudden blow surprised everyone, especially Randy, and it sent Victor plummeting to the dirt below. Before he could even registered what had just happened, or notice the sharp pain aching from his swollen knuckles, an instinct took over—one that Randy never knew he possessed—and he quickly found himself on top of the boy. The students that had circled around them all gasped, some even cried out for help, but no one stepped in. Not then and definitely not when Randy had reached for a nearby rock and, without a flicker of hesitation, used it to strike his bully in the side of the head.

An unrecognizable stutter, this time a real one, mumbled from between Victor's quivering lips. But—before he had a chance to finish the distorted word—the rock was slammed into his temple yet again.

Then again. And again.