The Battle Against My First Bully

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         Growing up I had many bullies, even until I graduated high school. This was due to my impediment. I have dyslexia and it affects my speech. Even my own father admitted to me that he couldn't understand me when I was younger, which explains some of the issues I had with him. I use to ask him questions and all he would do is nod his head, or follow by saying, "Yes, that's funny." This would make me mad and I would wonder why he wouldn't answer me.
         But, as I was in fourth grade, we attended a new school called Heritage Elementary. The pervious school, Ebenezer Elementary, was closed due to its age. It still had stream radiator heating at the time. Heritage was a nice and brand new school. I was sad to leave Ebenezer. I clearly remember the first day at Heritage, and how excited people were. The cafeteria was buzzing with voices. The halls were clean, being freshly painted white; but, I saw more clement block and bland titles. After the first day, then every day seemed originally: doing the same things over and over like we had done at the other school. Kids stopped talking about the "nice" school.
         In those days, kids got to sit in the halls or go whenever they decided. It was before class started, recess or periods of wait times after lunch. This is how I meet him. I rather not say his name; due to backlash and giving him more praise than he deserves. He was short, pudgy and had a scowl on his face. I remember him this way. I use to sit outside of the classroom, waiting. One day he appeared, and started sitting near me. For some reason, there was never too many people sitting out in the halls. Usually the kids came in late as possible. I'm the type of person who is mostly early by 10 minutes. At first, he tried to act like a friend: laughing, gradually making mean comments about me, yet trying to be funny about it. Over time he became comfortable and started doing it straight. He called me, "Dumb," then started saying my sister is "ugly." I don't know how he knew Kayla. I barely knew him myself. It got to the point where he started to make claims about my future. As in, "You'll die a virgin. No girl is going to have sex with you." I just went along with it, by saying, "I know." I didn't want trouble, but at this point I was getting threat up.
         As a result, I've decided to fight back, to even things out; to show what it was like. I started to pick at him for once. I started calling him "Barney." This pissed him off, and he told me that he didn't like it. Calling him "Barney" is all I remember doing. I was unsure of what else I could do. He wouldn't listen to anything. Nothing other than this influenced a response. He was always trying to show he was the boss.
         One day after lunch as I returned to class -- things were different. No one was in the hall. It was a situation that you felt in the gut and knew something would about to happen. It was also a relief not to see him. I decided to walk into the classroom since no one else was seen. The classroom was empty as thought; but it was dark, and I was alone. I planned to sit at my desk until everyone else arrived. Reaching the desk, I notice someone else had came in from the hall. It was him, but this time he had someone with him. This was a "friend" who came along. To this day, I have no clue who he was; nor what he looked like. Everything went rather fast. He was his typical self, by running his mouth to me. The feeling of hurt from what he said is what I remember, but not what he said in particular. The next thing I knew, his friend got involved too.
         It started, as if a game of "Keep Away" gone wrong. He lead another attack with my book, throwing them across the room; at least trying to. The books mainly flopped onto the floor near the table. I tried to take the books, then that's when the game started. As a circle spinning around the square table; so it felt, as they threw the books back and forth. They both hit me in my face with the books. They alternated turns. I remember the feel of the book covers hitting me in my face, mostly. They instantly flop open as they flew through the air; the edges of the pages also crunched against my face. It is a strange feeling. As they chased and hit me with my books, I heard them laugh. One of the books eventually knocked my glasses off. Their frames got twisted, and maybe they lost a lens.
         Later that day when I arrived home, my mother quickly realized something was wrong. She wanted to know what happened to my glasses. I told her the truth, which was, "I got hit by a book." And then the whole story followed afterwards, but only the basic details of the trouble. I didn't go too deep into the events due to my impediment. I didn't like to talk if I didn't have to. Everything changed after that. My mom had a talk with someone from the school on the phone. The next day was different. He didn't say much. A teacher, Mr. Knight, called me to the side. He wanted to talk to me. In the classroom, there was an adjoining room. It looked like a pine wood bird cage, with wired windows on top part of the walls. We went into this room. It was a storage area. It had lots of science teaching tools within the space: bone charts and test tubes and etc . . .. I knew Mr. Knight was a math teacher, but he could have done science also. Another teacher also shared the space. I sat in a plastic chair with metal legs. He knelt down to my eye level and starting talking to me about what he knew about the bully. Mr. Knight also knew about my speech. He explained to me about when he was younger and how he had a bad strutter. It also affected how he was treated by others. Afterwards, he told me more about the bully. There was a red folder he gave to me, which he told me to give it to my mother. I was a bit confused during all of this. I felt ashamed, due to people knowing about the events. Avoiding the shame was easier. I nodded to most of what Mr. Knight said. I didn't really give him much to go on.
         In the folder was a note from the bully apologizing to my family and myself. Mr. Knight made him to write a confession of all he said. This did stop the bully, but it made him so mad. Even years later in high school, I've heard from his old friends that he was still bitter. He took the angry out by blaming Mr. Knight. Then again, they could have been talking like kids do. Back then, he was angry even until I've lost touch with him when passing the elementary grades. After the bully was called out, he started faking nice to me. It was killing him. I could tell it. When I finished 5th grade, I was moved across the road, literally; to Northwest Middle School. I haven't seen him since 5th grade and I still have no desire to again even after all these years.
          I've had 3 other bullies since then, but it differed than in those days. In high school, it's the group mentality. And like before it had to do with my speech 90% of the time. Once more, they would laugh, make fun and ask why I sounded why I had gravel in my mouth. And they were more determined than the first one, trying to get me to entertain them by forcing me to talk; so they could laugh. During this time and ever since Ebenezer, I've had a speech therapist. It was more helpful when I was younger. She had me do exercises to see what I had to improve on; but in high school, you sat in a room and talked. As of now, I'm not perfect with my speaking but it is the best it's ever been. I still feel sad about everything that has happened. But we can't change the past. Only learn from it. I still have his letter. Every now and then I take it out to read it. It does help, because it makes me glad. It is from a piece of time when there was hope and when there was good people willing to help. There can be justice for some.