Bully (part 2)

Two

<JUST SIT IN THE FIRST EMPTY SEAT! Ignore the back. Don’t look towards the back! Just ignore the back.>

My mantra fell on deaf ears. I looked at the back.

Sail was smiling smugly. His henchfish waiting for his cue to start any kind of trouble. They were always waiting for his cue. They probably lined up in a row and waited for him to take a piss before they could.

I used to be one of them.

My palms were sweaty. Sail gestured towards an open seat near them. His skin was a few shades darker than my own. He was smiling a mouth full of file sharpened teeth. His people were descended from a culture that revered sharks. It was a pretty vicious people. I tried to pretend that I hadn’t seen him — but Sail knew I’d seen. The first couple seats were already paired up. They each only fit two to a seat. I’d never been lucky enough to find an empty seat in front. Most of the younger students sat towards the front, it was part of some unwritten rule. The hierarchy of school. The bigger, cooler, older kids sat in the back. They were the kings of this playground. I — regardless of my age — was refuse.

I stuffed myself into the first empty seat that I saw, about fourth or fifth from the front. And proceeded to slouch and curl myself to become as small as I possibly could in the seat. I was hiding. Nearly pulling my hood all the way over my face. I closed my eyes and wished I couldn’t feel Sail’s eyes on me.

The manta hovered over a slight incline. The coral trees became more sparse as we drew closer to the school. The coral woods gave way to the rolling landscape of sand mounds. Schools of fish were less frequent away from protective cover. These lands were farm lands. Bared by people for various purposes.

There was one last stop before school. Most of the hilly land was owned by the Gripe family. They were pretty famous clam shuckers. They have a son that was in my same grade who was refuse, like me. The boys always claimed he smelled — and made plenty fun of him for it. Though the Gripes were famous shuckers, they weren’t rich. His clothes were always dirty or torn, and not in a fashionable way.

Trench Gripe was standing at the stop. He was wearing a black hoodie-vest — hood up. Just like mine. The only parts of his pale skin exposed, were his hands. His long platinum white hair cascaded down either shoulder over the front of him. He had such long hair. It reached his waist.

Trench didn’t seem to cower like I did. He simply stepped up into the manta’s coach. Sail could be heard from the back, “Peeeeeyuuuuu!” He exclaimed and everyone laughed. Trench didn’t even flinch. He just shuffled his way down the aisle towards whatever available seat he could find. There was a deep part of me, the part I was unable to face, that admired Trench for his lack of concern. He didn’t care what people thought of him.

Everyone rustled and moved on the bus, trying to nonchalantly move bags in empty spaces or make themselves appear bigger, comfortable, or as if they had no room for another person to sit with them. Some of the girls pinched their noses closed. No one would understand that Trench has probably been up since four in the morning working hard on the farm. He’d already worked a full shift and now had to go to school like everyone else. And for what? Everyone knew that he was going to take over the farm when he was old enough. Why did he even bother?

Before I realized it, I found I was staring at him. His eyes were baby blue and hard to peel away from, once you were looking into them. His jawline was so sharp, so masculine. I realized that I’d never really looked at Trench’s face. He was always hidden in the shadows of a hoodie.

We’d made eye contact. Mr. Jaguar pulled the manta away from the stop and it was coming down to the wire, Trench would need to claim a seat. It seemed like he was trying to pick a seatmate that would be least offended by him sitting there. I didn’t have my bag covering enough of the empty space in my seat, which invited him to sit down! <Noooooooo!> I screamed in my head. My reaction was to smile when people looked at me. I was generally nice. Trench went to sit down. I instinctively moved my bag. Trapped! My kindness had got the better of me...And I had just committed my own social suicide.