by Michael Vu
It was a Tuesday morning in April. The winter cold was leaving the state of Illinois. Cars slowly pulled out of the driveway, on their way towards work.
Noah hummed a song. He waved to some of the cars pulling out. He yelled, “Have a good day!” When he passed each car, he whispered, “You old fart.” Noah reached the street towards school, which was now heavy with traffic, and turned left where many students were walking.
Across Seventh Street, Elizabeth Little was getting dressed for school. Afraid her older sister would come in and make fun of her because she was still playing with dolls, she picked them up from the night previous.
That day, Elizabeth, who was twelve years, three months, and two days old, decided to wear a purple dress she was too small to wear before. She ripped off the tags and slipped into it. It fitted her nicely. She brushed her long blonde hair quickly. From the kitchen, her mother yelled: “Elizabeth? Baby girl? Time for breakfast, honey!”
Elizabeth rushed out of her bedroom and into the kitchen. She found her father and sister already eating. Her father was reading the morning paper. She kissed him on the cheek.
“Good morning everybody,” said Elizabeth as she fixed her plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast. She sat next to her sister.
“That’s an ugly dress. It’s repulsive,” her sister said with a look of disgust.
“I stole it from your closet, Melissa.”
“No you didn’t.”
Mr. Little looked up from his paper. He studied his daughter in the new dress. He said:
“I think it looks lovely, Elizabeth.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” Elizabeth looked at Melissa and stuck out her tongue.
Twenty minutes later, Elizabeth was in the van with her mother and sister. The trio’s morning routine involved dropping Elizabeth off at Glenview Middle School first, then dropping Melissa off at high school. As they pulled up to the middle school, Elizabeth noticed a crowd had gathered near the bike rack, which was peculiar to her.
“Wonder what’s going on?” pondered Mrs. Little aloud.
“I don’t know. Look, all the teachers are running over there,” responded Elizabeth.
“You should jump out here, sweetheart. Have a good day. Give Mommy a kiss.” Elizabeth unbuckled her seatbelt, leaned toward the driver seat, and kissed her mother.
“Bye,” said Elizabeth to her sister with disgust.
“Ugly dress!” responded Melissa.
“Shut up, you slut.”
“Elizabeth!” her mother screamed.
Elizabeth closed the sliding van door and ran toward the entrance with haste. She was never given a tardy slip before, and thus, was determined not to receive one now.
Mr. Armstrong, the seventh-grade math teacher, brushed past her toward the crowd of students and teachers. He pushed some of the students back. Elizabeth waved to her mother as she drove away. Melissa, in the passenger seat, turned and watched Elizabeth with a scolding face. Elizabeth gave her the middle finger. She rushed into the building and unzipped her coat to let the warm air in.
Noah rode toward the bike rack. He found an open slot and eased his front tire between the cold bars of metal. He was pulling out his lock chain from his backpack when he felt a tap on shoulder. Noah turned around.
It was Rob! One of the meanest and biggest school bullies.
“Rob, what are you doing at the bike rack? I thought your mother was driving you to school? Is she pregnant again and on leave or something?” Noah talked fast when he felt nervous. He often said and did things before thinking.
Rob gave Noah an astonished look. He said, “What are you trying to say, my mom is fat?”
“No, not at all. It’s just sometimes we shouldn’t eat when we are full. I’m just saying from experience. So what can I do you for, Rob?”
“What the hell? Are you calling my mom fat?” Rob was red with anger.
Rob was a tall, thick boy with dark brown eyes. He had a large nose and some facial hair above his lip he desperately had been trying to grow since the fifth grade. He had dark brown hair and light skin.
All the boys were scarred of him. He was the bully because on the first day of school, he flipped one of the boys upside down and stuck his head in the toilet. He flushed the toilet ten times. Everyone called the boy, “toilet boy” and would not go near him. Rob was twelve years, nine months, and three days old.
“I didn’t say your mom is fat, did I?” Noah took a deep breath. “But Rob?” Noah knew what was about to ensue; he could see the vapor coming out from Rob’s nose. Noah thought he made the most of it.
“What, Noah?”
“Kiss my ass!”
Rob started to beat Noah’s belly with his open hand. Some of Rob’s friends rushed up and started to beat his belly too. Noah wanted to go into stealth mode, but it was too late. Darn, is that Randy? Why is he helping Rob out? It was only two days ago that Noah offered him milk money. Why was he in on this beat-down? And Scottie? What’s his problem? Scottie started to kick Noah’s bike. When Noah saw this, he rolled over to his back, and then toward Scottie. When Scottie wasn’t looking, Noah kicked him in the balls. Man down.
Rob and Randy beat Noah until his stomach turned to a deep red. A crowd gathered nearby.
“Chubby! Chubby boy!” yelled Rob.
Noah heard an adult’s voice. Finally.
“Move! Everyone back. I said move! Charley, move!”
Noah recognized Mr. Armstrong’s voice. The math teacher made his way into the crowd and pulled Rob and Randy off Noah. Scottie was still on the ground, moaning as he kept his hands around his groin.
“Everyone inside. Now!” yelled Mr. Armstrong.
The crowd rushed into the building.
“Rob, Randy: straight to Principal Curt’s office.”
Rob and Randy gave high-fives to each other. They walked away excited. Mr. Armstrong picked up Noah. He lifted Noah’ shirt to examine the boy’s belly. Noah’s pale white skin was stroked with deep red lines. Mr. Armstrong pulled down the shirt to cover Noah’s new wounds.
“Not that bad today, Mr. Armstrong,” said Noah.
“And what’s wrong with you, Scottie?” asked Mr. Armstrong as he eyed Scottie, who was still lying on the grass.
“Noah kicked me in the balls, Mr. Armstrong!”
“You deserved it. Go to class, Noah.”
“Thanks, Mr. Armstrong.” Noah headed toward the entrance. He turned to his math teacher. “See you tomorrow morning, same time then, Mr. Armstrong.”
Elizabeth found what books she needed for first period and ran downstairs towards homeroom class. At this middle school, students were divided into two teams due to the large body of students. Elizabeth belonged to the blue team. She was glad to be on the blue team. Most of her friends were on this team, except a few. She liked her teachers.
The homeroom bell rang.
Noah had all the books he needed for his next two classes. He walked past his locker, past the large cafeteria, and up a ramp to his homeroom. When he walked into the class, Noah yelled: “I kicked Scottie in the balls!”
Noah belonged to the gold team. He thought that because gold was superior to blue, he too belonged to a superior, smarter class. The teachers were better on this team, he thought. Luckily for him, Rob and Randy belonged to the blue team, so he didn’t spend much time with them during the school year. He knew though, that next year in the eighth grade might be different.
Noah ate his lunch in the eighth row at the very end. It’s where all the losers belonged. The nerds sat there. Kids who smelled bad, for no reason, sat there. Kids, who smelled fine, were considered smelly because they sat there. Kids who picked their nose sat there. The popular kids didn’t go back there. They purposely took the long route to return their food trays. Even the teachers avoided that area if possible.
All the cool boys sat together in row three, table one. The pretty, popular girls were together in row seven table four, not too far from Noah.
The day
’s conversation at row eight, table six focused on whether pro wrestling was real or fake. Noah disapproved of those who believed that such a sport should be deemed fake. He wanted to kick all those who doubted the sport off the table.
Noah’s best friend, Cookie, asked what happened to Scottie that morning. Was it true that the foot of Noah Spence kicked his balls?
“Yes, it’s true, my boys,” said Noah, as he placed his right foot on top of the table.
Cookie began to rub it, as if it symbolized luck.
“So you touched his balls?” asked one of the boys.
Cookie immediately stopped rubbing Noah’s foot.
The entire row eight table looked over to row five, table six, where Rob and Randy were sitting. They were leaning close together, whispering something of importance. They occasionally broke conversation and looked back toward Noah. Noah examined the distinguished glow in Rob’s eyes.
Elizabeth sat at row seven table two. Elizabeth was often quiet. She listened to her friends talk about the popular boys. Every week, each girl discussed which boy she liked, and why. But Elizabeth did not like boys yet. She lied and said she liked a boy from the eighth grade.
Some of her friends made fun of her pink lunch box. But Elizabeth really liked it. Her mother had bought it for her. It hurt her feelings and she wanted to cry when they teased her about the princess picture on the front of the box.
Row eight was the first row called to leave the cafeteria. Noah walked to his locker, grabbed his thick math book, and headed toward Mr. Armstrong’s room on the second floor. A few feet from the entrance door stood Rob and Randy, waiting. They grabbed Noah and yanked him by his backpack. He was pulled into the restroom.
Inside was Scottie with his arms crossed.
“Hello, chubby boy.”
Noah received a beat-down. The boys slapped his chubby stomach. Rob opened his backpack and flushed Noah’s schoolwork down the toilet. Noah covered his head with both arms. He counted the seconds going by to help pass the time. He waited for rescue to come.
Eighth graders waltzed in. They told all the seventh graders to scram. They laughed at Noah on the ground. They told him to get out. Noah stood up and looked in the mirror. His face was bright red. Tears streamed down his chubby cheeks. Cookie rushed into the bathroom.
“Where are they? I’m here, Noah!”
The eighth graders laughed. Cookie helped Noah pick up his things and together they walked out.
“Next time, don’t leave my sight. Got it, man?” said Cookie.
Cookie was a short boy who was twelve years, six months, and seven days old. He had long black hair that he parted down the middle. His nose was flat and he had small lips. He had a dark tan complexion. Cookie had no muscles and was fairly slim.
“It’s okay, Cookie. I’ll see you later.”
Cookie started down the stairs. Noah began to walk to class when he heard sobs coming from the girls’ restroom. Students fled to their classes quickly; the bell was about to ring.
The halls were empty. Noah walked to the entrance of the girls’ restroom. He heard a girl continuing to sob.
“Hello?” Noah asked while rubbing his face, which was still bright red.
There was no answer. The sobbing stopped.
“Are you okay? Are you okay, little girl?”
Noah stood at the entrance for a moment. He stared at the school mascot poster. It was gator smiling with his thumb in the air. The gator wore a white t-shirt with the school’s name printed on the front. Noah thought of an idea.
Elizabeth was at her locker. She put her lunch box away, and was taking a few books out when Scottie approached her locker.
“Hi, Elizabeth.”
“Hi, Scottie.”
“Can I walk with you to class?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks blushed bright red. She turned her face away from the boy.
“No.”
“Why not, Elizabeth?”
Rob and Randy walked out of the cafeteria. They found Scottie. Rob yelled, “Scottie! Scottie! It’s time. Go to the bathroom upstairs near Mr. Armstrong’s room. And hurry up!”
“Got to go, Elizabeth. See you.”
“See you,” replied Elizabeth.
She watched as Scottie ran away. His baggy jeans were too big for him; he had to hold them up with both hands. His long brown hair flopped up in the air as he ran. There was a loud chatter going on behind Elizabeth.
“Nice dress, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth turned around. Jenny, the most popular girl in the seventh grade and perhaps the whole entire school was walking toward her. Behind them were the rest of the girls from table seven, row four. Jenny said:
“Is it your mom’s?” Jenny laughed, then the rest of the girls laughed. They gave Elizabeth a supercilious look. Elizabeth shut her locker door and ran upstairs. The girls’ bathroom near Mr. Armstrong’s class was always empty. She found solace there. She rushed into a stall, shut it, and began to cry profusely.
The bell rang. The hallways were quiet. The bathroom was quiet. She had the entire floor to herself. Or so she thought. She allowed herself to sob loudly.
“Hello?”
Elizabeth heard the voice of a boy. He sounded sincere and concerned. Elizabeth held her breath. She put her hands over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face.
“Are you okay? Are you okay, little girl?”
Little girl? Elizabeth thought that maybe the boy thought she was in the sixth grade. But this bathroom was near the seventh-grade homeroom. Did she happen to cry like a sixth grader?
She kept quiet. She listened for any footsteps. She knew the boy was still standing by the entrance. The boy said, “Sometimes, to make myself feel better, I flush all the toilets in the bathroom. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better. It’s like flushing everything bad all away. You can try that, little girl.”
His steps slowly faded away.
Elizabeth collected herself. She walked to the mirror. She fixed her long blonde hair. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks. She readjusted the purple dress and patted off any dust sitting on her shoulders. Elizabeth squeezed her textbooks to her chest and began to walk out of the restroom.
But then a thought entered her mind. She stopped, turned around, and flushed all three toilets. Elizabeth walked out feeling much better.
CHAPTER THREE
Noah devised a plan to get back at Scottie. He wanted to hurt Rob and Randy too. Late one night, in his back yard, he paced back and forth thinking of a plan. Nothing came to his head.
“Alice, what do you think?”
The Golden Retriever stared at him with dull eyes. He feed her some gold fish. He placed his hand in his pocket and ate some too.
Noah learned last week that the three boys were to be together at Randy’s house for a sleep over. Noah called his plan, “Operation Kill Joe.” He wasn’t going to kill anyone though. It was just what he called it.
An idea came to Noah. He ran inside his house quietly. He opened his closet and took out six packs of firecrackers. He pulled out ten stems of bottle rockets. He ran to the kitchen and found a pack of matches. His mother was a heavy smoker. He placed the matches in his pocket and darted back out of the house.
It was ten o’clock in the evening on a Friday night. Noah rushed through the streets on his bike. Randy lived only fifteen minutes away.
Elizabeth didn’t have that many friends. The friends she did have, she hung tightly on to. The boys at school had taken a liking to her good looks. She was terrified. She liked being in elementary school; it was at that time that the boys disliked her and left all of the girls alone.
But now they awkwardly tried to talk to her. She did not like that. She tried to ignore them. This just made them talk to her more. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them. The truth was, she was extremely shy and did not know what to say to them. She thought boys were weird.
Elizabeth was in Mr. Sano’s advanced math course. Her scores were high in this class. Mr
. Sano lectured most of the time, but always left the last ten minutes for discussions. He allowed the students to scoot their desks together so they could collaborate on assignments.
Jenny, the most stuck up bitch, the most popular girl in the school, was in this class. She gave Elizabeth lots of dirty looks. Elizabeth’s best friends, Lisa and Erica were also in the class. They were sitting together with their desks facing each other. Lisa asked:
“Did you hear what happened last night at Randy’s house?” asked Lisa with a laugh. Her smile revealed in her mouth thick pieces of grey metal, which latched tightly on to her teeth to the point that when she spoke, it was uncomfortable for her to speak. There was a piece of chewed broccoli hanging from the metal. She had braces for over a year now.
Presently, the girls shook their head.
“Someone threw a bomb in his window! Yeah, it like exploded and caused a fire.”
“Who would do such a thing?” asked Elizabeth.
“Do they know who did it? I bet it was Wayne Foster. Was it Wayne?” asked Erica.
“No you dumb slut. They don’t know who it was. The group rode off.” Lisa gave Erica a look of disgust. “But rumor is, it was a large group of eighth graders, maybe fifteen of them, who hit Randy’s house.”
Elizabeth was terrified. She wondered if any of their houses were safe. A gang of eighth graders, maybe fifteen of them, what was the school coming to? What on earth, is this earth coming to? She asked:
“How bad was the fire?”
“Bad,” answered Lisa.
“Oh no,” cried Elizabeth.
Noah was in stealth mode. He arrived at his destination. Operation Kill Joe was a go.
Noah walked up to the house. That’s odd, it’s pitch black inside, he thought. Where did everybody go? The rest of the neighborhood was lively. A group of high school boys passed the street in a truck.
“Go Panthers!” said a boy in the back of the pick up truck.
Noah ducked in a bush. He waited for them to leave. When they were gone, he turned his attention back to the house still dark.