The defeat of victory  

Summer time, oh the joy! Three months of no homework, no school and getting to stay up late playing outside to finish those adventures which always seemed to be interrupted by moms everywhere hollering out the back door that it was dinnertime because during the school year, dinnertime meant eat, finish homework, have a bath and off to bed for school the next day. Many a fine game of hide and seek had been put on hold to be forgotten by the next evening when our young minds found other things to occupy us. But no more, summer vacation was here and all I had to do was get to my dad’s truck so it could begin!

Thus were my thoughts as I hid behind the thick hedges in front of my school watching my nemesis, Wayne the Rogue, and his henchmen circle the parking lot like vultures waiting for their prey, namely, me. They were well aware that our farm had burnt down and I could no longer just escape out the back way through the woods and run home since I had to be picked up and dropped off by my parents now. They seemed not to even care that I was having a hard time since our family home burnt down and in fact took great joy in knowing the fates had changed the tactical advantage I always enjoyed. My advantage of course was that I, unlike the typical prey, thought like a predator so it was easy for me to anticipate their pursuit and throw them off the trail. I also was better in the classroom which meant I automatically earned my position as prey of choice because I was smarter than them.

A point I had driven in firmly that very day less than an hour before when I won the teacher’s summer opener quiz and was awarded the coveted first prize, a thick comic book which was much coveted by all of us as it had been on display on the teachers desk all week. Our teacher, a kindly old gentleman who’s name I have since forgotten, liked to finish out the school year by holding a free for all oral quiz about the things we had learned during the school year. All of our names were written on the chalk board where a tick mark was added for each correct first response. At the end, it had come down to me and Wayne the Rogue, the only sixth grader I had ever seen that shaved and stood a full foot taller than everyone else in the school!

The final question was, who was the sixteenth president of the United States and quick as I was to get my hand up, Wayne beat me to the draw! I kept my hand up even after he had been called upon to answer the question with the hope he would get it wrong as he sometimes did and everything seemed to go in slow motion for the next few minutes. My arm grew heavy, I looked from the comic book, to the scores on the blackboard and watched my teacher ask Wayne to give the answer.

Of course, I knew the answer as Wayne himself had made sure of this when he decided around presidents day that it would be fun to see how many times he could dunk my face in mud puddles at recess each day, a favorite springtime activity of his as I learned. I, for one, was not too thrilled with the game and given the opportunity to volunteer to make holiday cutouts for decorating the classroom during recess, was able to avoid going out where I was available to play. My task consisted of tracing busts onto construction paper where they were projected from an overhead projector and then cutting them out. Of course my assignment was the president now in question!

Wayne finally began to speak and upon hearing the first syllables of the name, I knew I would never see that book again after this day, but to my surprise, he said the wrong last name! I couldn’t believe it and as I thankfully put my arm down when called upon, I blurted out the answer before it could escape. I did it, I had won!

The school bell rang to announce the beginning of summer as I walked back to my desk to tuck my prize in my book bag and the thought occurred to me that I should thank Wayne for helping to learn the very thing which helped me beat him and maybe even let him read over my shoulder. Several people started singing school’s out and everyone was cheering the end of the school year. Everyone that is, except Wayne the rogue. He was celebrating in his usual manner which was to glare at me while rubbing his fists together in a silent promise to give me proper congratulations once I left the safety of the school.

And so I considered these things as I judged the distance between my hiding spot and my dad’s truck at the end of the buses which waited to take others home. I was also calculating how fast I would have to run to get there before Wayne or his henchmen spotted me and moved to intercept. Just then several of my friends walked by and I casually sauntered out of the bushes to hide among a throng of other kids. By keeping low, I was actually able to make it halfway to the truck before they spotted me and came on the run.

My first instinct was to run but seeing them coming at me, I decided I would like to talk with my friends for a few second more until they got closer as I was enjoying a hearty round of congratulations. Then the time had come and I knew it was now or never. As Wayne neared the crowd from behind, I bolted out the front and straight into my dad’s truck without even getting out of breath. Looking in the mirror as we drove away from this school for the last time, I saw my plan had worked. You see, if I had run immediately when they gave chase, they would have had time to alter course around the other kids, but by waiting, I was treated to what I was seeing now. A large pile of bodies, arms and legs flailing about as the pursuers had crashed headlong into the unknowing group in an effort to get to me.

I had mixed emotions as I looked at the comic book on the ride to our new temporary home. Sure I had won, not only today but many times during the whole school year but it seemed that even though I always won these games of cat and mouse, the fact that I was forced to flee by bullies meant that in a way, they had won too because I know they thoroughly enjoyed the chase. Somehow it added a sense of defeat to my victory.

Were you bullied in school?

How did you handle it?



(this is an anecdote from my upcoming book Fort Stix - The Battles of Youth)