Page 2 of Kingpin
The first half of the day goes by pretty fast. We had two lessons—one on math, and the other on science. Mr. Bishop talks like he’s in a hurry and has a lot of energy, but he’s really nice so far. I didn’t have to interact with anyone besides him, so my nerves calmed down after the horrible book incident. However, it’s lunch time and I’m walking in line towards the cafeteria. The walls in the hall are painted blue, white, and yellow—the school’s colors—and all six of the classes in this hall are going to lunch at the same time. Everyone’s talking, and the boys are being the loudest while the girls are being quiet because they’re sneakily whispering to each other. No one has talked to me, so I haven’t tried to talk to anyone else.
When we get into the cafeteria, which is really the school gym filled with tables for us to sit at, I’m surrounded by kids. Somehow, I still feel alone, though. As I look around and see things and people I don’t recognize, I feel homesick. The only place I can remember living is California, so everything here is new to me. Even as I take my seat with a tray full of things I won’t eat, I’m too shy and nervous to speak. Everyone else is so caught up in their own conversations and craziness, it’s like I don’t even exist. I’m all alone in a crowd.
Once we’re allowed to go outside for recess, I watch all the other kids in groups playing with each other. There’s a big basketball court full of boys playing everything from dodgeball to four square. There are girls with hula-hoops, and some drawing pictures on the concrete with chalk. The playground in front of me is a big field with swings and big metal jungle gyms for us to climb all over, but I’m just not feeling up to it. All I really want is for this day to be over. I just want to go home to my parents. At least I recognize them. At least the furniture is familiar. My mom and dad will talk to me.
I walk over to the swings and sit down. I let out a sigh and watch the other kids run around like they’ve been waiting to do it all day and now they’re finally free. It’s loud and annoying, but I’m pretty sure we only have a few minutes of recess left, so I’m just going to sit here and wait. The swings are right in front of the door we’re going to have to go back into, so I’ll be first in line.
As I wait to hear the bell, out of the corner of my eye, I see a boy running from girl to girl. Every girl he’s around lets out a scream, and then he runs to the next girl. He’s a chubby kid with red hair, wearing blue jeans and a green military jacket like the ones my dad used to wear before they switched them. I scrunch my forehead as I watch this kid run over to another girl and smack her on the butt. The girl screams, and the chubby boys runs to another girl and pulls her hair. He’s just going around tormenting every girl he sees, and I don’t see any teachers around to stop him.
Eventually, the chubby kid sees me. I suddenly feel anxious as he runs in my direction, but my dad taught me to never let a boy touch me in any way I didn’t like. So, when the kid reaches me, I have no plans of letting him get away with smacking me on the butt. I press myself into the seat of the swing so he doesn’t even have a chance.
I don’t recognize this kid from my class, but I probably wouldn’t even if he was my classmate. He stands there for a moment, looking at me with a strange grin, then he walks behind me and tries to smack my back, but I jump up before he can. He tries to run around me again, but I turn around and make sure we stay face to face.
“Stop it,” I say to him, which seems to irritate him.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he responds, before he steps closer to me and tries to pull my hair.
I reach up and smack him on the arm, knocking his hand away. From the sound of the impact and the look on his face, I know it hurt. I may have done it a little harder than I meant to, but I can tell he doesn’t care. He looks angry now.
“That hurt!” he yells, just before he reaches for my hair again.
I turn around and try to walk away from him, but the next thing I know, I’m shoved in the back. I fall forward and land face down in the sand under the swing. When I try to get up, I feel something on my back, then I feel his hands on the back of my head. The chubby boy is sitting on me and pushing my face into the sand.
“Stop it!” I scream, as tears sting my eyes. The pain of my cheek grinding into the sand is too much to take. “Please stop!”
“Shut up,” he responds.
I try to lift my head, but he pushes it back down and now my nose is in the sand and I can’t breathe. I try to scream, but I can’t even open my mouth. I try to breathe, but I snort sand instead. I feel panicked, and I’m terrified, but only for a second.
Suddenly, the weight on my head and back is lifted off me. I hear thethudof a person hitting the ground, followed by a yelp of pain. When I raise my head, I see the chubby boy on the ground looking up at someone standing over him. He has his back to me, but I can tell he’s bigger than the chubby boy. He’s wearing black pants and a black, long-sleeved shirt, and he has short black hair. The chubby kid looks up at him like he’s scared to death, and he doesn’t say a word as the kid turns around to face me.
When he looks down at me, he has a scowl on his face that frightens me. He has blue eyes and lips that look too big for his face. Something about him reminds me of an evil villain I’d see in a movie—he’s the guy beating the crap out of the hero.
“Are you okay?” he says. His voice is deeper than every other boy’s voice I’ve ever heard.
“Umm,” I begin, but the chubby kid steals my attention when he gets up and walks towards me.
“She hit me first, so I’m allowed to hit her back. So, move, Ugly Dominic,” the chubby kid says with a chuckle.
It all happens so fast after that.
The big kid snaps around and punches the chubby one in the face. Chubby stumbles backwards, but the big one grabs him by his shirt and throws him on the ground right in front of me. Sand goes flying everywhere as the big kid jumps on top of the chubby one and punches him in the face again, just before grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head over so that he’s looking at me.
“Apologize,” the big kid says, calmly. “Look at her and tell you’re sorry. Now.”
The chubby kid looks up at me as blood streams from his nose and tears fall from his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, just before he loses it and starts bawling like a baby as he cover his nose with both hands.
I don’t even know what to say. I look at him for a second, then I look up at the other kid. At first, I was terrified of him, but now I’m not sure what to be.
The big kid lets the chubby one go, then helps me up off the ground. As I stand, he reaches down and starts knocking sand off my clothes while I struggle to get it off my face and out of my hair. The two of us walk away from the crowd of kids who are gathering to look down at the boy on the ground bleeding and crying.
“He won’t mess with you, anymore,” the kid says. He looks at me with an expressionless face, and my heart pounds with anxiety.
“Thank you,” I reply, nervously.
“You’re new here, right?”
