Recurrence Page 3

  John nodded, and his grandfather continued. “As soon as you know there’s no way out, and before he can do anything, hit him as hard as you can in the throat. If you can’t do that, or if things get ugly, poke a thumb in his eye. Kicking or punching them in the nuts is good too. Once they know they’ll get hurt too they’ll leave you alone.”

  The harassment and bullying continued. A few days later Ben confronted him; and then suddenly pushed him backwards. Another kid was on his hands and knees behind John, causing him to fall over backwards. By the time he’d recovered they had dispersed, laughing. Days went by and Donald and Wayne would try to get in a punch whenever he wasn’t looking.

  A bigger boy named Harold Hamm tried the pushing trick with a second boy behind his knees. John was more aware this time. When the push started he grabbed Harold’s shirt and dropped his butt straight down onto the back of the one behind him as hard as he could. The boy collapsed with a grunt and John kept his grip. Harold lost his balance and fell forward onto both John and the one under him. John was expecting it and managed to roll him aside and onto the other boy’s head. He was the first to regain his feet leaving them tangled together in surprise. He started to kick Harold in the head but thought better of it.

  He circled away while the other kids laughed like crazy. Ben threw himself on top of the other two with a wild howl. The tension was broken, and the incident was over. The boy on the bottom had gotten the worst of it and when he got to his feet, John was surprised to see that it was Kenny.

  He was given a respite when a new boy arrived at school in the middle of the term. The new one was a Mexican boy named Ramon and he was John’s age but slightly smaller. Ramon was unique in being the first Latin the other kids had ever seen, and they were more cautious in feeling him out. They spent a few days sniping at him with spit wads fired from rubber bands, thrown rocks, and a few punches and kicks from an unseen face in a group when he wasn’t looking. They caught him in a circle as they had John.

  John was on the outside watching his own back when the circle parted and rushed in his direction. He backed against the wall of the building and a rock whizzed in from the other side hitting him in the shoulder. He was surrounded and pushed inside the circle with Ramon during the distraction. As before, they kept the circle rotating, putting the larger ones in position to block any escape.

  Ramon was either a quick learner or had experienced this before. He rushed at John and kicked him in the groin, dropping him to his knees. It doubled him over and took his breath. His legs seemed paralyzed and he was stunned with the agony that swept from his groin to the pit of his stomach. Through blurry eyes he saw Ramon coming in for another kick and twisted aside just in time. He caught the blow on his hip and elbow. He was still on his hands and knees, so he grabbed Ramon’s leg just below the knee and staggered to his feet, dumping him on his back.

  He stepped away and used a combination of Kenny’s and Ramon’s own tactics from there. When Ramon started to rise he rushed in and hit him on the nose as hard as he could with his fist. Ramon flopped over backwards with a yell and rolled over face down in the dirt. John kicked him in the side and looked around for sneak attacks. Ramon went to a fetal position and covered his face with both hands.

  “Jesus, you killed him,” one of the kids said with awe.

  “Naw—just broke his nose,” another snickered. Others laughed.

  They all scattered leaving Ramon on the ground. As he went around the corner John saw a group of girls rushing in. He didn’t know if it was to give aid or to inflict more pain. He was still stiff and in pain himself.

  “Damned good fight,” a voice said. John turned to see Wayne leering at him.

  After lunch Mrs. Winston called him to the front of the class. That portion of the room was on an elevated floor, forcing him to look up at her as she sat at her desk.

  She lifted her wire-framed half-glasses and looked down her nose at him. “Did you punch Ramon in the face?”

  “Yes,” John responded. He was surprised because no one had ever been called up to the front since he’d been there.

  She lowered her face and glared over the top of the glasses. “Well why did you hit him?”

  “Because he kicked me in the groin,” John blurted out without thinking.

  The students burst out into a roar of laughter and Mrs. Winston’s face turned purple. She slammed a book down on her desk with a boom, making half of the kids jump. She sputtered, “Go to your seat.”

  As John was walking back he heard someone whisper, “What’s a groin?”

  There was more whispering, but he ignored it. Mrs. Winston was calling the next grade to the front and she ignored it too. He noticed that her face was still red.

  That evening he was upstairs reading and heard the telephone ring below. Shortly thereafter, his grandmother called him downstairs to the living room where both of his grandparents were seated.

  “Did you get in a fight at school today?” his grandfather asked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Did you start it?” his grandmother asked.

  “No, some other kids pushed us against each other and then he kicked me, so I hit him.”

  His grandfather glowered at him. “Exactly what did you say to the teacher?”

  “She asked me why I hit Ramon, and I said, ‘because he kicked me in the groin.’”

  His grandparents looked at each other in surprise and then burst into laughter. His grandfather laughed so hard he doubled over and went to his knees. Turning toward his seat, he placed an elbow on one arm of his easy chair and pounded the other arm with his fist. He regained his composure and snuffled, “I’ll bet that word had never been spoken in that school before.”

  “Go on John,” his grandmother said. “I’ll call you when supper is ready.”

  Nothing more was said at school about the fight. A couple of the kids did ask John what a groin was, but he just told them to look it up.

  A week later, at the last recess, John saw several kids grouped in front of the boys’ outhouse in back. He approached them to see what was happening and heard a gruff voice say, “We don’t tattle to the teacher about nothing. You got that Mex?”

  There was more scuffling just inside the open door and John clawed his way to the front of the group. Ben and Wayne were inside with Ramon and each of them had a fistful of hair and a grip on a shoulder. They were trying to force his head down through one of the three holes in the seat. Donald was in the doorway gripping his belt at the back. He was punching at Ramon’s kidneys and kicking him behind the knees. Ramon was crying and struggling to break free, but he was overpowered.

  John braced his foot on the step and reached in through the door. He grabbed Donald’s shirt collar and yanked back on it as hard as he could. Donald kept his grip on Ramon’s belt but lost his balance, inadvertently helping John to pull Ramon free of Ben and Wayne. They collided with each other in the confined space. John, Donald and Ramon all tumbled to the ground outside and John was first to rise.

  Ben came barreling out from inside and slammed into his chest with the heels of both hands, knocking him back down. John was still afraid of Ben and scrambled away facing him, only to be hit in the back of the head from behind by Donald.

  “Fuck it,” Ben said, waving them away with a sweep of an arm.

  John turned and focused his attention on Donald.

  Donald backed off sneering, “Another time.”

  John was bumped hard on the shoulder by the heel of an open hand.

  “Get out of here asshole,” Ben spit out.

  He knew that it was over with for now but not done with. Both of them would still be after him. He decided he would have to do something to one of them first for a change. His confidence had risen to a point where he was sure he could whip Donald but doubted that he could take Ben who was thirteen and much bigger.

&nb
sp; Two days later John passed Ben as he was coming out of the boys’ room. Ben slapped out at him open handed, more as an intimidation attempt than a blow. Despite his grandfather’s advice to hit the throat or the balls, John spun and hit Ben in the stomach just above the belt buckle as hard as he could. A whoof escaped Ben’s lips along with a blast of foul air. He staggered backwards and kept himself from falling by grabbing the doorframe behind him with both hands. The kid behind him, who had barely begun to open the door, was hit by it and knocked down.

  John stood on the balls of his feet with his fists raised, prepared to fight or flee. He was slammed from the side and long arms reached around him pinning his arms to his sides.

  Without stopping, Ronald pushed him staggering sideways into the schoolroom. “Don’t let the teacher see you,” he hissed into John’s ear.

  As John was passing through the door he saw the kid who had been knocked down in the boys’ room being helped to his feet. It was Donald. John was elated. Even if they killed him, he had knocked them both down with one punch. He expected retaliation at lunch or during the afternoon recess and delayed going out as he had the first day. Neither Ben nor Donald was anywhere in sight when he did go.

  Wayne sidled up to him with his evil grin and said, “Man that was stupid. He’ll kill you now.”

  John ignored him and kept an eye out for some kind of trap or anything that might be thrown at him. Nothing happened then or at the afternoon recess. Ben and Donald were each in class for their grade that afternoon but soon disappeared when it was over. John wasn’t worried about after school because Mrs. Winston usually came outside when school let out and watched until they were all on the bus. Only three or four kids lived close enough to walk. John noticed with satisfaction that Donald had a good-sized red lump on his forehead.

  Mrs. Winston never came out that day though, and neither did Ben. Someone had tattled about Ramon, and Ben had been kept after school. Later John heard that Ben’s father was so enraged that Ben had missed the bus that he’d made him walk the three miles home. His farm chores were still waiting for him when he got there, and he missed his supper.

  The next morning after school was in session John went to the restroom during a time when it was usually empty. As he stepped away from the urinal to wash his hands the door swung open and three boys rushed in without a word. John was forced to back up against the wall and face Ben, who was flanked by Donald and Wayne.

  “What did you hit me in the belly for?” Ben growled.

  John already had his hands up in front of his face. Now he doubled his fists and looked up into Ben’s eyes. “You’ve been bullying me, and you were going to hurt me sooner or later. Why shouldn’t I hurt you first?”

  Ben had flinched when John clenched his fists. Now he said, “You’re just a piss-ant that I don’t have time to step on.” He backed away half a step without removing his gaze.

  John quickly glanced to either side expecting something to come from Wayne or Donald, but both were staring at Ben with quizzical looks as he turned and walked out of the room. He thought at first that Ben had turned his punishment over to them, but they only looked at each other and then followed him out the door. Of the two, only Wayne glanced back at John. He realized that his troubles with Ben were over. Either of the others might be a problem, but not near as big of one.

  He had a week with no trouble and then it came from a different source. Outside at a recess when all of the other kids were elsewhere, he decided to use the outhouse. When he came out the two mean-looking girls were waiting for him.

  “We saw your peter,” said Suzanne, a tall, straight-bodied blonde with small, tilted, amber-colored eyes.

  “What?” John asked, surprised.

  Mean-eyed, full-breasted Gwen had straight black shoulder-length hair with bangs. She pushed hard against him with both hands trying to knock him down.

  “We looked through the knothole,” she spat out. “Why’d you try to kiss Suzanne? You peckerhead!”

  John recovered from the surprise and retained his balance. He also recalled Kenny’s warning about them.

  “You’re crazy; I’d rather kiss a hog.”

  The two large girls came at him from the sides, grabbing his arms and trying to wrestle him to the ground. He struggled with both, foiling their attempts to push, trip or pull him down. They were staggering around in circles, all three of them panting. Between gasps, they continued to call him names and make comments about his peter.

  “Don’t touch my tits.” Gwen screeched.

  “He’s not going down,” Suzanne panted.

  John saw a water-filled low spot in the grass and worked the struggle that way. Now close enough, he did some tripping of his own. First Suzanne and then Gwen went down into the wet spot. Suzanne only landed on her butt, while Gwen tripped over her outstretched legs and went down face first. He heard a howl of laughter and he turned to see that more than ten kids were behind him watching. Ben, Harold, and Wayne were at the front, but smaller kids and girls were there too. Now they were all laughing like crazy.

  Wayne grabbed his wrist in a friendly manner and moved up close to his ear. In a low voice he said, “It took us a week to set this up. We saw the whole thing.” He stepped back, grinning his evil grin.

  “We’ve been waiting for them bitches to get slapped down,” Kenny said from the other side. “Didn’t I see you cop a feel or two while you were wrestling around?”

  “Yeah, is Gwen wearing falsies?” Ben asked, with the first smile John had ever gotten from him.

  “Like I told them, I’d rather kiss a hog,” John responded. This brought on more laughs from all of the boys.

  “She is a hog,” Ben said, not indicating which girl he was referring to. Later John learned that he was talking about his own sister, Suzanne.

  The two wet girls went off cursing toward the front of the school while everyone else, including John, continued to laugh and backslap each other. Even though he’d been set up too, John felt like he was part of something for a change.

  Nothing was ever mentioned in the schoolroom about the incident, and both Suzanne and Gwen left him alone. Later he checked and found that there was no knothole.

  Occasionally he’d catch Suzanne looking at him in an odd way, but she always looked away when she saw him turn toward her. Once or twice he thought her face turned pink when he caught her looking. He decided that she really wasn’t too bad looking but she was still too old and too big for him. She was probably thirteen, since she was a grade ahead of Ben, who’d been set back at least once.

  The novelty of John and Ramon as new students wore off over time and John was pretty much accepted into the fold, although Ramon was not. John and a few of the girls were the only ones who treated him as an equal. The others grew bored with picking on him though, and he moved away during the Christmas break.

  Two months later there was snow on the ground and temperatures were just above freezing during the day and below freezing from evening to early morning. John went outside during the afternoon recess one day and heard shouting behind one corner of the building. The shouting stopped, and he walked on around toward the source.

  When he passed the front corner of the annex, a smaller kid named Barry Griggs came tearing up behind him hollering, “Get outta the way!”

  John stepped aside, and the kid ran on past trailing a piece of rope about five feet long. Bouncing along behind was a half-grown opossum tied to the end of the rope by one hind leg. Its coat was bloodstained, and a two-foot length of gut hung out, dragging in the muddy snow.

  John followed the boy to the back corner where the hollering had resumed. Several boys were standing spread out in a row along the building and were throwing knives at the opossum as it passed. John watched this spectacle in dismay. Whenever one of the knives stuck, they all hollered for the boy to stop so the knife could be retrieved. The exhausted boy
dragging the target-opossum was replaced with a fresher participant.

  When John had first seen it the opossum was alive, but after two more laps it had been stabbed several more times and showed no sign of life. John recalled the words of his grandfather when he’d asked about hurting the fish. He was sure this was different and declined the offer to join in, even though more than one offered to loan him a knife for the event. He went back inside to the library.

  That evening when school let out he saw the opossum again. It was lying at the bottom of the split windshield on the driver’s side of Mrs. Winston’s old black coupe. A wide smear of blood-fur-and-grease across the windshield showed that it had been placed or thrown higher up, and then slid down. At least four feet of still-attached gut decorated the passenger’s side windshield in a similar manner. The whole mess was frozen in place. As the bus rolled away John wiped the fog from his window and saw her standing on the steps of the schoolhouse and wringing her hands.

  The opossum killing had been on a Friday. When school resumed on Monday Mrs. Winston was gone. In her place was a younger and larger woman with a stern face. She had moved her desk to the side of the room near the windows and pencil sharpener. Her newer car was parked alongside the road directly across from her: a vantage point that would allow her a constant surveillance.

  The new teacher announced herself as Miss VanGuud, and she stated that discipline would be maintained and that seats would be assigned after two weeks had passed. She ruled for the next two years that John was there, dispensing punishment with the back edge of a wooden ruler applied across hands and fingers or used the flat side across the top of the head.

  On some occasions she applied a well-worn wooden paddle with a number of large holes drilled through it. She would draft two or three of the larger girls to help manage any boys who resisted, taking advantage of the boys do not hit girls precept; making the humiliation more complete.