Zach.”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
The truth was that for the last two weeks Zachary had been trying to crank up enough courage to ask Stephanie to the end-of-year dance. Of course, he had been trying to ask her out all year, and so far had only managed to say ‘hi’ once in the hallway. But her smile that day had been worth it. He took one more glance at his black and blue cheek in the mirror. Maybe she’d have sympathy for his injuries.
A guy can hope.
“I should call the school,” his father said as left their fourteenth floor apartment and entered the elevator, “and make them stop that kid from picking on you.” His left eyelid was twitching, not a good sign. Next his face would turn pale.
“It’s okay, Dad, really. School gets out next week.”
“As long as you’re sure,” his father breathed. His eyelid had already returned to normal. This was the same man who had been known to throw sour milk away rather than confront someone at the store. One time they had gone without cable TV for several weeks because he hadn’t dared to complain. It wasn’t until someone in the adjoining apartment had a similar problem that it got fixed.
“A new salon opened just a couple of blocks away,” his father offered.
“We already tried,” Zachary said.
“But we haven’t tried the new salon.”
Zachary shrugged and hoped his father would forget about it. The only thing more embarrassing than having green hair was having a bunch of hairdressers say how weird it was that it couldn’t be dyed.
When they stepped off the elevator, Zachary hurried out the front lobby doors and jogged to the bus stop at the corner. He got there as the last of the herd was getting on the bus and followed a tall girl with curly black hair down the narrow aisle. There were only a few quiet snickers as he made his way to the back and settled into a seat beside a much younger boy who examined his bruised face for only a second before darting his eyes back out the window.
Zachary watched the passing storefronts and tried to imagine how he was going to ask Stephanie Travis out, but every plan he came up with seemed lamer than the one before. His mother would have known what to say. He touched his lip. She might also have used makeup to cover up his embarrassing injuries. He pictured her sitting beside him, long green hair cascading in soft curls around her delicate face, slender arm draped comfortingly around his shoulders. He forced the fantasy away knowing she could get caught in his head like video game music. Ten minutes later, when the bus pulled into the school circle, he still hadn’t formed a single idea of how to ask Stephanie to the dance. To make matters worse, Billy Timkin was standing outside the bus, ready to give him a morning beating.
2) A Bad Decision
Billy smirked and his friends made a couple of rude remarks about his bruises, but miraculously they let him walk unmolested up the stairs.
“Meet any good fists lately?” he heard one of them say just before he walked into the school. But he ignored the comment and, just then, saw Stephanie Travis walking toward her homeroom class.
“I can do this,” he told himself as he hurried to catch up, but the closer he got the heavier his shoes became. His stomach felt like he’d eaten a live goldfish and his body trembled with fear. He opened his mouth to call out.
“Steph…,” he croaked, but somehow the rest of her name got stuck in his throat.
What’s wrong with me?
It didn’t matter, though, because she never looked back before disappearing into her homeroom. Like a robot with a rundown battery, Zachary came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Several students bumped him as they moved past.
Coward! Coward! Coward!
How could he have screwed up such a perfect chance? He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t ask girls out on dates. What could he do? But he already knew the answer to that: he could grow up to be just like his father and avoid confrontation at all costs. He could cross the street or hide behind doors rather than face a single argument or disagreement. Zachary was fated to become just like his dad, and the thought of Stephanie going to the dance with someone else because of it made him furious.
Feeling like a total failure, Zachary turned and trudged back towards the Team C hallway. A number of kids in his first two classes laughed and made fun of his bruises from the botched fight the day before, but he hardly noticed because couldn’t get the image of Stephanie Travis disappearing into her homeroom out of his mind.
“She was right there,” he muttered to himself on the way out of third period gym. The last to leave, he had been pulled aside by Coach Winton who was worried that he might have gotten his injuries during dodge ball the day before. When Zachary assured the heavyset man that his bruises had nothing to do with gym class, the coach had dismissed him with no more sympathy than an exterminator might have given a wounded mouse. At least his job was safe.
Now Stephanie will probably go to the dance with that track kid who keeps passing her notes in English class. Why couldn’t I talk to her?
“Who needs a ball,” he heard someone say as he reached the first landing in the stairwell.
Zachary stopped. At the top of the stairs, four familiar boys were surrounding a shorter, plump kid he didn’t recognize—a sixth-grader probably. Laughing, the older boys kept pushing the kid back and forth like an oversized hockey puck.
Zachary felt his stomach cramp. He was so sick of the scared feeling that he wanted to scream! Everything in his life was crappy because of fear. He might already have had a date with Stephanie if he hadn’t been too scared to ask. He might also have won that fight with Billy if he hadn’t been too scared to learn how to fight and stand up for himself in the last few years.
What was he so scared about? What could possibly be worse than his current life? Maybe it was time he took a lesson from his Uncle Ned who had probably never taken grief from anyone in his whole life. Maybe it was time for someone else in the Pill family to stand up for himself!
Because they were still busy pushing the helpless younger boy back and forth, none of the bullies had yet noticed Zachary. He forced his stomach to unclench, took a deep breath and climbed a couple of stairs. Hoping he sounded braver than he felt, Zachary spoke up.
“Leave him a-alone.”
The largest of the boys glanced down, and for the briefest second Zachary thought he saw fear in the dark-haired boy’s eyes, but then his wide face split into a grin.
“Look, guys,” Billy Timkin, said. “It’s our buddy…, snot hair.”
The taller blond boy to Billy’s right was Jason Kelly, and though he didn’t look nearly as rugged as Billy, he had a similar reputation as a bully. Zachary didn’t know the names of the other two skinny boys, but he had seen them skulking around with Billy at various times.
All four boys glared down at him.
The sixth grader gave Zachary a thankful glance and raced away. It was a big school, and he didn’t slow down until long after his footsteps could no longer be heard. At least he would be safe.
Too bad I can’t say the same.
Billy and his three friends moved to form a vicious, sneering wall at the top of the stairs, making Zachary realize—too late—that he probably should have gone to the top of the stairs before interfering. As it was, he was trapped.
“I need to get to math class,” he said.
“You weren’t in a hurry a minute ago,” Billy pointed out.
By that time, Zachary’s stomach had cramped into such a tight ball that he was glad he hadn’t eaten much for breakfast. His heart yammered like a scooter engine and he could feel tiny beats of pain in his bruised cheek and lip. He wanted to run, needed to run, but a brave little voice in his head kept telling him to hold his ground. As he stared at the small army above him, he began to hate that little voice.
“I need to take my math final,” Zachary said, surprised that his voice did not crack.
“D’you hear that?” Billy said. “Grass head needs to go somewhere.”
“Too late, slate,” Ja
son said.
Billy smacked his taller friend in the arm. “That didn’t make sense. What’s ‘slate’?”
“It rhymes with late,” Jason said lamely.
Zachary forced a trembling leg to step upward.
“Looks like you’ll be missing that class,” one of the skinny boys said.
“Yeah,” Billy said, “don’t think you’ll be making it.”
Zachary looked from one angry face to another. He doubted there was any way out of this, and he was rapidly realizing what a huge mistake he had made. His entire body started to quake.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Now, can I please go?”
The four boys—as one—shook their heads, and Billy rubbed his thick hands together. “No such luck, chump.”
Trying to remember some of the fighting stories his Uncle Ned had told him over the years, Zachary let his book bag drop to the stairs. His uncle had once said that if you had to fight, it was best to surprise your opponent by attacking first. But how could Zachary surprise four boys who already knew he was there? Besides, surprise or not, it didn’t seem likely he could win against four of them. After all, he didn’t have his uncle’s fighting experience or built-like-a-truck muscles.
More and more, Zachary regretted his decision.
At that moment, his father’s advice to “walk away” was making a lot more sense, especially considering neither his classmates nor Stephanie Travis were in the stairway to see him run off. But where could he run to? Billy and his