Five times Scott gave Mitch a life-saving, sadness-curing hug.
***
The ground was cold against my face as someone pinned me down with the sole of their boot on my back. I was trapped in the middle of a circle of mean kids. They all wore dark clothes, and they were bigger than me, fifth graders at least. I was only in second grade. I don’t get why they had to be so mean to me. Every day, they would call me names as I got off the bus and went to put my stuff in my cubby.
“Loser!”
“Nerd.”
“Chubby!”
“Gay.”
Their names hurt me so much, and I never understood why they always had to gang up on me. There were plenty of other kids that were just as small and girlish as I was. Why were they picking on me instead of them?
Not only were the names really mean, but most of them were lies. Like “loser.” I wasn’t a loser. Every time my papa and I would play cards or checkers or any other game, I would always win. That made me a winner, not a loser.
I didn’t know what ‘gay’ meant, so I wasn’t sure if that one was true or not.
Every day after lunch they would drag me out to the empty playground, and call me more names. I wanted to tell teacher about it, but they threatened to take all my lunch money. I just didn’t know what to do anymore.
Papa always said, “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.” And a lot of the time, he was right, because the only things they used against me were those mean words. But then one day, they actually started to hurt me.
They didn’t use sticks or stones or anything, but they pushed me to the ground and started to kick me while another boy held me down. The pain was unbearable, and the same thread of insults came with each blow.
“Stupid.” A kick in the stomach.
“Loser.” Someone stepped on my knees.
“Gay.” A jab to my throat that basically knocked all the air out of me.
At this point, I was gasping for breath. My vision had gone all fuzzy and my head hurt so bad. I think I might have been crying, but I was too busy focusing on trying to breathe to notice.
I knew I had to stop them, but to do that, I needed someone who was their size. Someone who would help me get away from them and keep me away from them for good.
I needed a hero, or a friend.
My wish was granted when I heard a boy shout from behind me. “Hey! Let him go! He didn’t do anything to you!”
They all let go of me and turned their attention to the unfamiliar face and away from me. I grabbed my throat, gasping for air. Once I could breathe again, I burst into tears.
“He didn’t do anything, but you did. You told on us last time, remember?” The leader sounded menacing compared to the other boy. “We’re gonna get you back, Scott!”
“I don’t think so,” the boy named Scott said condescendingly. “The principal is coming now, and she said she’s gonna give you all detention. She might even expel you!”
That was apparently enough to rouse them to their senses and leave the two of us alone. Once they all ran off in a panic, Scott came over to kneel next to me, sliding an arm under my back so I could sit up.
“Are you okay?” he asked me, holding up my head so I wouldn’t tip over.
“Yeah, I’m…” I wasn’t able to continue as a sob erupted from my chest.
