The Bully

by Paul Langan

  He glanced in his backpack. One of his sandwiches had been crushed when Tyray shoved him, and it leaked peanut butter into the inside of his bag. The smell of peanut butter was on everything. Great, he said to himself, not only am I small and weak, but now I stink.

  He grabbed his backpack, slammed his locker shut, and rubbed the growing bump on his forehead. He knew other students in the hallway saw what happened. Some had even laughed with Tyray. Others just watched. Now as he looked around, everyone seemed to ignore him, acting as if nothing happened.

  Quickly, Darrell slung his backpack on his shoulder and headed to the cafeteria to meet Harold. He was imagining Tyray and Rodney teasing him for smelling like peanut butter when he noticed a yellow piece of paper taped next to the cafeteria door. It read:

  Build Confidence. Gain Strength.

  Join the Bluford Wrestling Team.

  No experience required.

  Freshmen welcome.

  See Coach Lewis for more information.

  A picture of two guys wrestling was on the sign.

  Those words again, he thought. Confidence and strength. His pulse quickened. Those two words were what he wanted. “But there is no way I can wrestle,” he said aloud. Then he looked around to see if anyone had heard him. One girl with long braids stopped and looked at him as if he was crazy, then walked into the cafeteria. I’m too small, he thought. People will laugh at me the second I step onto a wrestling mat.

  Then those words echoed in his mind again— confidence and strength.

  But I am the weakest kid in this school, he thought.

  Confidence and strength was the response.

  Darrell was torn. He decided to talk about wrestling to Harold.

  “Wrestling!” Harold exclaimed, when he told him about the sign. “Are you crazy? Have you ever seen a wrestling match? It’s not the dumb stuff you see on TV with big guys who pull each other’s hair. It’s for real. That’s the last sport I’d join if I were you. ”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Darrell replied. He had felt the same way. But as he picked through his crushed peanut butter sandwich, Darrell thought about what Harold said. What had he meant by the words “if I were you”?

  He meant that a skinny guy like me doesn’t belong on the wrestling team, Darrell thought. He looked at Harold.

  Harold silently put a spoonful of chocolate pudding into his mouth. As Darrell watched him, he realized something. Harold was scared too, maybe even more scared than he was. And all he’s gonna do is sit here at this lunch table hiding from everyone, Darrell thought. He imagined the whole year ahead of him—maybe all four years of high school—passing like his first few weeks at Bluford. Darrell could not live like that. He could not live in fear. He did not want to. Darrell thought about Hatchet and how Brian realized the same thing and then forced himself to change. And he did it alone. Maybe Harold isn’t ready for a change, Darrell thought, but I am.

  “I gotta do something, Harold.”

  Harold looked at him and then looked quickly down at his tray.

  “I’m gonna see Coach Lewis.” Darrell said, getting up.

  Darrell was nervous as he walked to Coach Lewis’s office. Never had he imagined himself joining a wrestling team. As he was about to knock on the door, he considered turning around and heading back to the cafeteria. Then he thought of Brian and knocked.

  “Come on in,” said a deep voice from behind the door. Darrell walked in.

  “Hi. I . . . I’m Darrell Mercer,” Darrell stammered nervously. I’m here to see the coach . . . Coach Lewis.”

  “That’s me, Darrell. How can I help you?” Coach Lewis was a muscular black man with cropped hair speckled with gray. The cinderblock walls of his office were covered with newspaper clippings, and a few trophies were in a case across from his desk.

  “I saw the wrestling poster in the hallway. I wanted to know if I can join,” Darrell said. He thought about how small he was and got embarrassed. He did not look the coach in the eye. “I’m new at Bluford, and I ain’t ever wrestled before.”

  “Darrell, I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. What I want to know is what you want to do now.” Coach Lewis looked at him. Darrell felt like a little toddler in his gaze. “Wrestling is a tough sport. A lot of kids join up, but they quit after a few practices. That’s a waste of time—theirs and mine.” Darrell felt the coach may have been trying to tell him not to join.

  Coach Lewis continued, “The real answer to your question, Darrell, will come from you, not me. I can teach any kid to wrestle as long as he is willing to work at it. I’m looking for kids who are gonna make a commitment. If you are one of those kids, I want you to come to practice with us. The choice is yours. Remember, the sport is like anything else in life. You’ve got to work hard to get good at it, and it takes time. But if you stick with it, you will grow. You’ll grow inside and out, I promise you that,” he said, smiling at Darrell.

  “Does it matter that I’m so small?” Darrell asked. “I think I only weigh about a hundred pounds.”

  “Let’s see what you weigh,” Coach Lewis said. He walked Darrell over to a nearby scale. “One hundred and ten pounds,” he said.

  Darrell could not believe it. His mind started to spin. He had gained ten pounds since he had stood on a scale at the doctor’s office in Philadelphia last summer, when he had to take a physical before enrolling in high school. The doctor had said he was in good health, but small. Now he was ten pounds bigger. Ten pounds. It was finally true, he thought—he was growing.

  “Wrestling isn’t like football or basketball. You don’t need to be bigger to be better. Wrestling is sort of like boxing. You always go against an opponent who is the same weight as you. So it isn’t size that makes you win. It is strength, endurance, and most of all, brains. So don’t worry about your weight.”

  Darrell did not exactly feel relieved. He lacked strength and endurance just as much as he lacked size. As far as brains were concerned, Darrell could only guess that they were small too, especially when it came to wrestling. Coach Lewis seemed to sense Darrell’s thoughts.

  “Listen, Darrell. I have seen kids start wrestling in high school who were lighter than you. I’ve seen two of them become state champions. So quit worrying. It doesn’t gyou anywhere. If you want to accomplish something, you’ve gotta get to work.” He handed a form to Darrell. “If you want to join the team, you’ve gotta fill this out and have your parent or guardian sign it. Get it to me tomorrow, and you can start practice then, okay? I hope to see you there, Darrell.”

  Darrell left Coach Lewis’s office feeling different. He had not even filled out the form. But he still felt different. He knew he was going to join the wrestling team.

  The next day, Darrell brought the form back completed and signed. His mother was happy to sign it, though she was barely awake when she scratched her name across the paper. Longer hours at work made her more exhausted in the evenings. When he took the sheet from her, she gave him a hug and told him she wanted to see his first match. “We’ll see, Mom,” he had said. He could not imagine himself wrestling.

  At lunchtime, Darrell told Harold that he had decided to join the wrestling team. “Maybe I made a mistake, Harold, but I’m sick of feeling like a nobody. I’m thinking it might help, you know,” he explained.

  Harold shrugged. “I know how you feel, Darrell,” he said sadly. “Let me know what happens. Maybe I’ll join one day.”

  Just then Darrell noticed Amberlynn Bailey walk with Jamee Wills to a nearby table. Amberlynn wore jeans that rested snugly on her hips. “Man, don’t she look good?” Darrell sighed. “That girl is fine!”

  “You ever tell her you like her?” Harold asked.

  “No! Are you crazy? I may be stupid, but I ain’t that stupid. She don’t want someone like me.” Darrell shook his head. “For one thing, she’s taller than me,” he added.

  Harold laughed between bites of his lunch, a cheeseburger with bacon.

  “I did talk to her a few
times. She’s real nice . . . sometimes, anyway,” Darrell continued, remembering the day she ignored him in class.

  “Maybe she’s different than other girls,” Harold said. “Maybe she likes you.”

  “Yeah, right,” Darrell replied bitterly. But inside his heart, a tiny flame of hope burned, one so small and frail that he was afraid to admit it even existed.

  After his final class, Darrell went to his first wrestling practice. He was nervous as he put his books in his locker and made his way back to the gymnasium. He had never been at Bluford this late in the day.

  As he rounded the corner and headed to the gym, he saw a group of cheer-leaders walk by on their way to practice. Amberlynn was one of them. Darrell’s heart fluttered as he watched her walk by in the blue and gold uniform. He noticed the graceful way she walked and the muscular shape of her calves as she moved down the hallway. She did not seem to notice him.

  When Darrell got to the gym, he went straight to the locker room. It was much different this late in the day. The only people there were athletes. The guys changing out of their school clothes were bigger and more muscular than the average Bluford student. Surrounded by this group, Darrell stood out even more than usual.

  “What are you here for?” said a kid with a shaved head and the hint of a mustache. Darrell had seen the kid in the cafeteria, but he never spoke to him before.

  “I’m going to wrestling practice,” Darrell answered nervously. His voice scratched as he spoke.

  “You! You’re kidding, right?” the kid asked. “Look at you!”

  Just then Coach Lewis came into the locker room. He looked over at Darrell and nodded with a smile.

  Okay, gentlemen. There are a few new people here today. I want you to welcome them and help them out as they get used to our system. For you older guys, I want you to remember what it was like when you first started. Be patient. For you new guys, this may be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Work hard. Follow the older guys, and don’t give up. Okay, everyone, get started.”

  When Coach Lewis finished talking, a group of about twenty guys headed out to the gymnasium. Darrell followed them. Immediately they went to one side of the huge room. In the corner were four thick ropes reaching from the floor to the ceiling of the gym. Quickly, the group broke into four lines, one by each rope. Darrell watched in horror as the line leaders climbed the ropes handover-hand without using their legs. There’s no way I can do this, Darrell thought. No way.

  As Darrell watched, he saw that not all the kids were able to go up using their arms. Some had to use their legs to help. Others barely reached the top. They must be the new people, he thought.

  Then it was Darrell’s turn. First he tried to climb with only his arms, but he could not hoist his weight. When he used his legs, he felt like a giant inch-worm climbing on a leaf. Yet for all his effort, he moved up only a few feet. Halfway up the rope, he was exhausted. Unable to hold on any longer, he let go and fell to the ground embarrassed. Instantly, another kid took his place on the rope and climbed to the top. Darrell shook his head and walked to the back of the line.

  When everyone was done climbing, the group started to jog laps around the gym. Darrell was glad they were doing something he could do. Even though he was discouraged by the ropes, he still could not believe he was practicing with the wrestling team. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he would be doing such a thing. For a few minutes, he was almost proud of himself. Then the pace of the jog picked up, and he started to hurt.

  The jog lasted about twenty minutes. Darrell was grateful when it ended. He was tired, sweaty and out of breath. He thought everyone would rest, but then he realized the group was moving over to the other side of the gym, where the wrestling mats were set up.

  Darrell nervously stepped onto one of the huge blue and yellow mats. It smelled like rubber and felt soft and squishy, like a giant sponge. “Now we’re going to start our workout,” declared the team captain. A few people groaned. The word “start” echoed in Darrell’s brain. What had he been doing if they were just starting now, he wondered.

  For forty-five more minutes, the team exercised. They did push-ups, sit-ups, leg raises, jumping jacks, and a series of painful drills with names like “mountain climbers,” “squat thrusts,” and “lunges.” Towards the end of the last drills, Darrell’s arms and legs trembled, and his heart pounded. A few sharp cramps shot down the side of his stomach, making him want to double over. Yet he stayed with the group. Barely.

  The next half hour of practice was wrestling drills. Darrell watched, learned, and practiced how to throw a standing person down in three different ways. He also learned how to avoid being thrown down if someone tried to use the takedowns on him. He was not skilled with the moves, but he got to know what they were. He liked learning the skills. It made him feel as if he had a secret weapon, one he could use if he ever needed it.

  During the final half hour of practice, Darrell was assigned to wrestle with two other kids in his weight group. He was happy to see guys his size, even though they were much more muscular than he was. Coach Lewis explained that the three people in each group would take turns wrestling—two would wrestle while one rested The matches were to last for one minute. One minute seemed short to Darrell, especially since they had been exercising for almost two hours already. Yet once he started actually wrestling, one minute seemed like an eternity.

  In his first mini-match, Darrell wrestled a kid named Craig. In about fifteen seconds, Craig hoisted Darrell into the air and slammed his body down sideways into the mat. Darrell felt his face bounce off the mat’s rubber surface. As Darrell struggled to get up, Craig jammed his forearm into Darrell’s nose, hooked his arm, and pried him over onto his back. Darrell felt like a turtle turned upside down on its shell. Before he knew what was happening, Darrell’s arms and legs were so tangled that he was unable to move. He could barely even breathe.

  “You’re pinned, Darrell,” explained Coach Lewis. Craig let Darrell up. “That means you lose the match. Never roll onto your back,” the coach added, and moved on to another group.

  “Don’t worry,” said Craig. “You’re still learning, that’s all. Luis and I have wrestled for two years.”

  Sure, Darrell thought. Why worry? His back ached, his face was bruised, and he had lost in front of the head coach. Everything is wonderful.

  In the next match, Darrell wrestled Luis. The result was nearly the same. Only this time, Darrell noticed, he was not pinned until just before the minute was over.

  Maybe that’s improvement, he thought.

  Practice ended with a drill Coach Lewis called “steps,” in which each member of the team carries someone of his weight or more up three flights of steps. Once a pair reached the top, they sprinted back to the bottom and switched places. Craig carried Darrell on his back up the entire length with ease. When it was Darrell’s turn, each step was a struggle. His legs ached and wobbled. At one point, he thought he was going to collapse, sending himself and Craig tumbling down the steps. After he finally reached the top, Craig slapped him in the chest. “Good job,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Darrell answered, managing a slight smile.

  When practice finally ended, Darrell could barely walk. His day at Bluford was over three hours longer than it would have been if he had not gone to practice. He still had to walk the mile back to his house, and he still had homework to do. He had no idea wrestling would be so hard. By the time he got home, it was almost 7:00.

  “How was your first practice, Darrell?” his mother asked when he walked in the door. “I was worried about you. You look exhausted.”

  “It was great, Mom,” he mumbled, almost too tired to talk. He did notice that in addition to feeling tired, he also had an incredible, growling hunger. Slowly he trudged into the kitchen to the refrigerator. He devoured Thanksgiving leftovers as if he had not eaten in weeks, washing everything down with three glasses of cherry Kool-Aid.

  “Honey, if you keep eating like
that, you are really gonna grow,” she said with a smile.

  “I hope so, Mom. I really hope so.”

  After dinner, Darrell forced himself to do his algebra homework and then went to bed. He slept better than he had since the days before his mother told him they had to leave Philadelphia.

  The next morning, Darrell could hardly move. Every joint in his body was stiff, and his ribs hurt whenever he inhaled. When he tried to stretch, hot knives of pain ripped into his back and sides. He could barely even raise his arms to brush his teeth. And once when he sneezed, he felt as if his whole upper body was going to shatter and fall to the floor like a broken window. He felt like hhad aged fifty years in one night.

  After packing his lunch, Darrell left for school, making sure not to take the main street to Bluford.

  Darrell arrived in English class a bit early, and Mr. Mitchell had not yet entered the classroom. When he sat in his seat, he noticed Amberlynn smiling at him. She was wearing black jeans and a snug white T-shirt. It seemed to him that it was the first time she noticed him in weeks.

  “How’s it goin’, Darrell?” she asked in a friendly voice.

  Darrell thought her voice sounded like music. For a second, he felt happy at Bluford. Finally someone talked to him, someone who was attractive and friendly. “Pretty good,” he said, smiling back at her.

  “Were you working out with the wrestling team yesterday?” she asked.

  “Yeah. That was my first practice,” he replied.

  “Are you really going to be a wrestler, Darrell?” He was surprised at the look on her face and the excited sound of her voice.

  He was not sure how to answer. Darrell could not imagine himself as a wrestler. The word just did not seem to fit him. He knew he was the weakest person on the team, and he wondered if he would be able to last through another practice, let alone the whole season. Still, he did not want to quit. Quitting would mean that nothing would change. He would be back where he started when he first set foot in Bluford. He shuddered as the images of Tyray and Rodney flashed in his mind. “I guess,” Darrell said.