Tag: Fight

On the third day of school when I woke up, I did my chores and went out with my younger brother Jorge to the field behind our house to try to catch some of those rare butterflies. Somehow though, I couldn’t wait to go back to school. Armando was already waiting for me at the bus stop. He had his book bag and of course he was skipping school. Once on the bus he told me not to worry. I guess he knew I was nervous. I nodded as my hand reached for my slingshot inside my book bag. It gave me a sense of comfort.

It was early when we arrived at the school yard. A few girls were still lingering around from morning school. (Girls went to school in the morning). We sat under a birch tree and waited for the bullies to show up. My hand was clenched and sweaty around about four ball bearings. My sling shot was in my back pocket now, ready to go. Armando didn’t seem nervous at all, he just seemed to be in deep thought. After about ten minutes, he turned to me and said “You know we could get beat up today if they decide to fight us but remember, we just have to fight with everything we have. The most important thing is to show them that we are not afraid of them because we are not!” I didn’t say a word.

Then, there he was, coming our way, eating an orange and picking on some of the girls. He was shooting orange peels at their bare legs with a rubber band. I stood up, my heart was beating really hard. Armando stood right in front of him as he called to him. “Hey stinky!” Amando said. The boy stopped and looked at him kind of confused. Then he saw me and understood what was happening. Putting his books down he walked right up to Armando to challenge him. As he got closer, I saw that he was taller than Armando. Instinctively I reached for my sling shot. Armando didn’t waste any time. Quick as lightning, he grabbing him by the shirt, knocked him down on the ground and had his forearm on the boy’s throat! The boy tried to fight back but Armando was already sitting on him and had pinned him to the ground. “That’s my brother” he said. “Don’t you ever pick on him again, or next time I’ll hurt you so bad, you won’t even know what happened to you.” He added, “I know you have friends, but so do we, and if they have to come, it will not be to play games.” He pressed his forearm harder on the boys neck to the point that he had a hard time breathing. His face went from angry to scared.

Armando let go of him and stepped back till he stood next to me. The boy sprung to his feet as he swore, his face was red and his fists clenched. Armando and I just stood and stared at him. By now a whole circle of kids were watching, they could not believe that the bully was down. Some kids tried to help dust the back of his shirt off but he just shoved them away as he walked through the small crowd. Armando picked up the boy’s soiled orange and threw it across the road. We walked back to the spot where we had left our books, and as my brother said goodbye he said, “I don’t think they will bother you again.”

Continued in Part 3…

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…