A continuation of “The First Day of School.”
My first day of school had been tough. Riding the bus by myself was scary and bullies had given me trouble. I didn’t know what to do. Should I tell my mom?
The second day of school was a bright sunny day, perfect for flying a kite or butterfly hunting. I woke up to the smell of freshly made tortillas and the typical smell of firewood coming from a nearby tortilla shack. I thought it would be great to go butterfly hunting, so waking my little brother up we ran out the door. “Where are you going? Are you chores done yet?” asked my mom. We both moaned and came back in the house, did our chores, had breakfast, and quickly ran out the door.
The marigolds (Flor de muerto) were about two feet high and very smelly. We ripped a few branches off the ground and went after the beautiful butterflies. Our collection was awesome! Because of that, we were very particular about the kind of butterfly we wanted to catch. The hardest ones to catch were the “zebra” and the “mirror” butterflies. The mirror butterfly’s wings were transparent and that made them almost invisible. The zebra butterfly was either black with white stripes or green and black. They seemed to know we were predators and somehow they always seemed to manage to stay away from us.
The sun was high now and it was eleven o’clock when my mom called us in. It was almost time for me to go to school but I was trying not to think about it. A strange feeling came over me, and in an instant I re-lived the events of the day before with the bullies. (You can read about them in “The First Day of School”) My stomach felt sick and I wished I didn’t have to go back. The reality was that there was no getting out of it. Riding in the bus was not as scary this time although I still was a little nervous. What worried me now, was having to face the bullies again. Would I get beat up today? What kind of plans had they made to make sure I didn’t get away this time?
My plan was to arrive at school a little late so they would all be at their desks. That eliminated the possibility of fighting before school started and I would just sit in any available seat (which had been the point of contention the day before). It worked, but only to an extent. All day they picked on me and threw spitballs at the back of my head. They were working on my nerves but I felt helpless against them. At recess, they followed me around the school yard and I made sure to stay within the sight of one of the teachers.
As the day wore on, I figured the best thing was to tell the teacher but I was afraid of her also because of her ill temper. At the beginning of the day, she had angrily yelled and thrown her ruler and the blackboard eraser at some kids that were talking in class. Instead of talking to her, I decided to use the same trick as the day before. I went up to the teacher and apologized to her asking what the names of the kids were because I wanted to make friends with them. She gladly told me their names as she pointed at each one of them. The boys were watching my every move so when she did that they chickened out.
When the time came to go home, they still followed me, called me names and threw things at me but I was able to get on the bus safely. The ride home was short this time but I wished I never had to go to school again. I felt trapped and saw no solution to the situation. As I thought about it ,my eyes filled with tears again and I prayed to God for help. He didn’t seem to hear me and I felt deep sadness.
When I got home, my mom was glad to see me home safe and greeted me with a hug. Armando was just getting home from school too and asked me to play marbles with him. When I said I didn’t feel like playing, he knew something was wrong. He followed me into the house and asked me what was wrong. I began to cry and as he put his arm around me as I told him the whole story. I could see him getting mad as I spoke. He stood there thinking and after a couple of minutes he told me not to worry anymore. “Tomorrow we will have a talk with those boys!” he said. With that he brought me into the other room where he had his secret box with a lock. There where all kinds of things in his box, from toys to minor hand weapons most of them homemade. Taking a few things out, he put them in his book bag. I just stood there watching him. “Where is your slingshot?” he asked. I went and got it out of my secret box along with a hand full of half inch steel ball bearings that I had saved for a special occasion. We went out and played marbles and somehow I felt better knowing I was not alone anymore. I slept good that night.
Continued in Part 2…