Bullying Story: An Inspired Short Story

 

Photo by Taylor Flowe

Recess.

My favourite period in our school schedule is recess. Why? It's when I can leave the classroom and enjoy the food, I packed for myself in the morning. If I had one wish, I'd use it to extend recess time. Some might call me crazy for not wishing for wealth or superpowers like invisibility or flying.

They have a point – invisibility could lead to wild antics, and flying might result in a painful fall from jumping at such a height. So, I'll stick with the joy of a longer recess where I can eat to my heart’s content. When the bell rings, it's back to classrooms with minds focused on textbooks and photocopies.

As I jotted down my thoughts about how awesome recess is in my book, the bell chimed in. I grabbed my bag, rose from the stairs, and joined my classmates. Walking through crowded halls, I finally reached my next class.

Honestly, it's not about tough textbooks or studies. It's the people I'm around all year. Unnecessary dramas create a cloud of misery, but I stay clear. I just want to focus on my day. However, it's tough to concentrate with the guy next to me sobbing at his desk for two months. I empathize and want to help, but I can't risk being a target for bullies, some from our class. He used to be cheerful and social, which is sad to see.

Unfortunately, someone didn’t like him too much, and his friendliness might have rubbed the wrong people the wrong way. Now, he’s faced with false claims and rumours, accused of getting into people’s business and causing trouble by getting close with you. Naturally, people stay away from him to avoid getting involved in the mess he’s in.

As usual, today goes by in a blur. Working hard on your tasks can make time feel like it’s flying, and not constantly looking at the clock seems to make it go faster too. I know it’s not true, but it’s fun to entertain the thought. After school, I hopped on my bike to ride home. Once there, I unpack, change, and head to my room to study and play games before dinner.

"Hey! You forgot to pick up the seasoning for dinner on your way back!" My mother's voice echoed as she banged on my bedroom door.

"Oh, crap. I completely blanked on that," I replied, quickly setting aside my phone and reaching for my wallet inside the front zipper of my backpack.

Hastily putting on my socks and shoes, I was all set to head out of the house.

"You should head up to the convenience store near the bridge; they'll be open at this hour," my mother shouted from the kitchen, where she was busy preparing dinner.

"Sure thing, ma. My bad, ma,” I called back, opening the front door and stepping outside.

As I stepped outside into the night, it struck me that I rarely ventured out at this hour. The streets took on a whole new ambiance, but my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of seasoning, dinner, and my angry mum. Following my usual school route, which passed by the convenience store, I walked on.

After crossing the bridge, I arrived at the store and spent what felt like ages trying to find the elusive seasoning packet my mum wanted. Just when I was done and headed for the checkout. I ran into a familiar face.

“Hey, Elvis,” I called out to him.

The moping kid in my class seemed unsure at first but then admitted he had forgotten my name. Despite that, I pressed on, asking if he lived nearby.

Before he could answer, the clerk called him to the counter. We both paid for our items and left the store. Eager to continue our conversation, I rushed to catch up with him.

“Elvis! You couldn't finish what you were going to say back there," I said, trying to get him to open up.

He turned to face me and admitted, ”Yeah, I live close around here.”

After hearing this, I shared that I lived just across the bridge and a little further down. I asked if he lived across the bridge too, considering I had seen him walking in that direction.

He paused, looking across the bridge as I pointed, and replied, “Yes, I live around that area, a bit closer to the canal.”

As we stood there, I realized that despite our initial awkward encounter, we might become better acquainted as neighbours. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that this might be our only interaction, and we would go back to being strangers at school tomorrow. To avoid any further attachment, I decided it was best to walk away.

"Sorry about the small talk. I've got to get going with the seasoning for dinner. I don't want to get in trouble. Should we walk down together until we part ways?" I suggested.

Elvis seemed a bit hesitant, fidgeting with his shopping bag. "No, it's okay. I actually forgot to buy something in the store," he replied.

"That's funny; the whole reason I came here was for that seasoning I forgot to buy on my way back from school," I chuckled.

Elvis nodded silently, and I knew it was time to say goodbye. "Alright, I better get going. Take care on your way home after you finish getting what you forgot. See you around," I said, walking away while giving a wave.

He waved back, and I glanced back at him for a moment before continuing my way home.

Back home, my mother nagged at me for being late, and had dinner before heading straight to bed since it was a school night, and I needed to wake up early. But as I lay there, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened, but I decided to sleep it off.

Little did I know that fate had other plans, and that would be the last time I'd see Elvis.

Story Inspired by: Ray Bradbury