Page 73 of Cruel Steps

“Your connection with Donovan is special. Do you guys practice a lot?”

“We’re close friends and know how to read each other. It’s a bond you can’t teach,” Holden said, smooth as ever.

“How are you feeling about this season, Colter? Do you plan to go to the draft?”

“I feel good about our team. We’ve worked hard to get to this level.” I didn’t elaborate, hoping they’d drop the rest.

After a few more questions, they finally dismissed us, and Holden and I jogged out of the stadium. Luck was not on our side, and we were waylaid by Hayward students wanting to congratulate Holden, girls slipping us their numbers to shoot their shot for the night, and the least unexpected guest waiting, his mom.

“Holden! Great game, honey,” Rose gushed, hugging her son once we made it through the group of girls. I scanned the parking lot for any sign of Hope, but didn’t see her. “Have you seen Emmy?” she asked when she withdrew from the hug.

“I thought she was supposed to be the mascot,” a man I didn’t know said. Based on his arm around Rose’s shoulder, I assumed it was Mer’s father.

“She said she wasn’t feeling well,” I supplied when Holden said nothing. “Hi, I’m Colter,” I said, introducing myself to Mer’s dad.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Milton, Emmy’s dad. You’re friends?”

“Yeah. We met when she visited campus at the beginning of August.” He nodded, but I didn’t know if he knew anything about his daughter’s life.

“Have you seen Hope?” Holden asked, eyeing his mom.

“She’s around here somewhere.” Rose looked over her shoulder, but turned back when she didn’t find her. “She was waiting for you, Colter.” Rose smiled, like she thought I was sweet on her daughter.

I was, just not that one.

A group of girls in Wolfette uniforms, football players, and Zeta girls emerged from the middle gate, laughing loudly, and drawing our attention. Standing in the middle of their little group was Hope, holding court.

Holden took off toward his sister, his steps long and with purpose. I jogged behind him, needing to witness this for myself. Cody spotted us and broke off from the group he’d been waiting with.

“Have you seen this?” he asked, intercepting me.

“What?”

He showed me his phone, and I stopped to read it. It was an article in the Hayward Chronicle published around the start of the game.

The Truth about Hayward’s Mean Girl by Emerson Adams.

“Oh, shit.”

I read over the article, my eyes scanning the material as quickly as I could. I couldn’t believe some of the accusations, but with each claim, Emerson added evidence either in text or photo. She never outwardly said Hope’s name, but if you knew her at all, it was easy to put the pieces together. The whole thing was shocking, but it was the vulnerability in the last part that hit me.

A bully utilizes your fear, conditioning you to take the abuse they give and not question it. For years, I fell into this trap, too scared of what she’d do to me. The fear itself was a weapon she wielded without having to do anything. It kept her torture constant and stole any happiness I experienced, too worried she’d pop in at any second.

In this day and age, it’s so easy to ignore the start of bullying. It’s microaggressions and trolling behind a screen, giving the bully a sense of entitlement. Online, it never ends, taking away all the safe places. There are so many wonderful things social media can be used for, but there’s just as equally a thousand ways it hurts. Much like a weed, the bullying grows and stretches past the original confines, giving the bully confidence. When nothing happens to them, they feel invincible for getting away with their crime. Soon, they amass a following, and their power expands. They can now inflict terror with a look, one word, or even a single rose.

I’m not even convinced anything will happen now; she’s too protected and intelligent to get caught, but I’m no longer willing to play her game. Maybe it will work? Maybe it will make it worse? I have no clue.

As the last seven years can attest, I don’t know how to stop it. But I’m no longer going to be a victim in my life.

I urge everyone reading this to challenge yourself, to think about how your actions affect others, and how your words might scar someone. Maybe that’s how we win, by joining together. If we can talk about it, we can change, and then we can move forward as a community.

I hope one day, cruelty will be completely gone, but until then, anyone who is bullied or has been bullied, I hope you remember this:

You are enough.

You are worth it.

Keep being uniquely you.

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