My Bully Story (Warning: It's long)

When I was in the 8th grade, a girl who I will refer to as *S* decided she HATED me.
I, in all honesty, had no idea why she harbored such ill feelings toward me. I was generally nice to everyone, she and I had been friends before, and I had never ‘liked’ a boy she liked. It was all quite perplexing.

She called me names as I walked by. She threw a shoe at me. She threw a tennis racket at me. The shoe hit me in the face. The racket missed my head by inches. It all came to an intolerable level when she snuck up on me at an after school party and poured a bucket of water over my head. I know it sounds silly, but for some reason that bucket of water terrified me. Why did she hate me?! What did I do to her?! I ran to the janitors room and hid there, waiting for my sister to come to my rescue, while she lurked outside with a couple of her ghoulish friends and an arsenal of water balloons. I watched for my sister threw a sliver of a window that the middle school has to offer, and sprinted to her car as soon as I saw her.

I went home and sobbed to my parents about the way this girl was treating me and vowed to never go back to school. Because to a 13 year old, 8th grade, Mormon girl, being called a bitch is scary!!

My dad wasted no time calling this girl’s parents and told them under no uncertain terms would he tolerate this being the treatment of his daughter. We had to go to the dean’s office (which totally devastated me). The dean asked her why she was bullying me. Her muttered answer was “She stole my best friend.”
Being the blunt person I have since tried to turn direct, I answered “Well I can’t imagine why she wouldn't want to be friends with you anymore!!”

We were instructed to leave each other alone, I was moved out of our mutual PE class, and she never tried to physically assault me again.

But for 2 more years the verbal assault continued. Whispered, vulgar insults. Some of which I was still too naïve to understand. Rude comments. Loud, obvious laughter at my expense.

I will be honest. I hated *S*. I hated her and I didn’t care if she was hit by a bus. But on that long ago day, when I had came home sobbing, my mother had counseled me, “Don’t sink to her level. Just ignore her. If she tries to hurt you physically, you have every right to defend yourself. But don’t give in to her stupidity. You don’t have to like her, but you do have to respect her.”

So I didn't. I ignored her. I bit my tongue every time it wanted to shoot scathing and cunning insults back at her. I turned the other cheek.

The first day of my sophomore year, I walked into 2nd period Biology. The teacher wanted us arranged a certain way and had strips of masking tape on the science tables. I sat at my table and was busily preparing myself. Amongst the busy settling of the class I heard the exclamation, “You have GOT to be f$%&ing kidding me.”

My blood ran cold and I turned with narrow eyes to behold my nemesis. I didn't speak. I turned back to my purse and notebook and ignored her. She plopped down next to me. All black lip stick and jeanco jeans of her, and slammed her black, Marilyn Manson plastered back pack on the table. She continued to hiss curses and insults at me all the way through morning announcements, and only fell silent when the teacher called for attention. A few months continued with us sitting next to each other in stony silence, or I listened to her as a flow of hushed vulgarities gushed from her mouth.

I sat impervious to her. I never acknowledged her. I didn’t make eye contact. I’d even get up and find something to take me away from the table. Throw some trash away. Borrow a pen.

I was reassured by my cheerleader friends that she was a total freak. And indeed she was quite different from me. She was a self proclaimed anarchist and atheist. She was a “goth” and openly talked about her alcohol and cigarette use. She would rush to “the corner” and smoke between classes and scratched bloody emblems into her arms with a paper clip when she was bored.

It was December. The first day after Thanksgiving weekend. Our Biology teacher had assigned a huge study packet that was 5 pages, front and back. I was pulling mine out from my book when *S* collapsed into her seat next to me, buried her head into her bag, covered her lank hair with her arms and began to quietly sob. I was stunned!! It had emotions?

I carried on with my own business and the teacher called above the pre-class clamor to find our study guides, we were to turn them in after announcements. *S*’s head came up with a snap. Her panic stricken eyes met mine and she gasped, “Is that due today?” I nodded.

She scrambled into her bag and withdrew from the depths her study guide. She flipped through the first 3 pages with hope. But the last 2 pages were blank. She lowered her head. Her forehead resting on the edge of the table. I could see her tears spilling onto the papers she had crumpled in her hand.
Part of me wanted be smugly happy she was so broken. But compassion flooded my heart and I tentatively asked “*S*? Are you ok?”

She shook her head. “I got into huge trouble this weekend. I’m grounded for 2 weeks now. My parents were pissed all weekend and then when I got to school this morning, my boyfriend dumped me. Now THIS. This is going to kill my grade, and then my dad is going to kill ME. He’s going to kick my ass.”
I wondered if he really would. I was under an accurate assumption that her family dynamic was vastly different from mine. I debated for a moment. She looked so sad and helpless. But she was always SO mean to me!!

I pushed my study guide toward her. “Hurry and get down as much as you can before she asks for them. And if you get caught I’m telling her I had no idea.”
She turned to stare at me in disbelief. “Hurry!!” I prodded.
Now I can not say that I condone cheating, but I looked the other way as she frantically scribbled answer after answer onto her paper. The announcements were long that day and she managed to get the whole thing filled in.

We started class and were given the work for that day. Our usual silence fell over us until 10 minutes were left in class. Suddenly I heard her voice. Not a hiss. Not scathing. Just a soft, humble voice. “That was really cool of you. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch.”
I turned to her slowly and gave her a small smile. “No problem. We all need help some days.”
She smiled softly back.

From that day forward she was never mean to me again. We were never friends. We didn’t chat. We sat at our lab table in comfortable silence. But no longer were we enemies. We could walk toward each other in an empty hall and a small smile would pass between us.

She offered me a cigarette, which she swore was a miracle cure for cramps. I politely declined.
She got to go to prom as a sophomore and I complimented her dress. She smiled and said thank you.
That was it. No great friendship was created. No lasting bond. Just peace.

Bullies can not control themselves, so they try to control others. Or maybe they’re jealous. Or maybe their home life isn’t very good. I will always be glad that I followed my mom’s advice and lost once less enemy on that day.