8 Bet

Honestly, after I told the boy off, I expected him to get the message and leave me alone, but he still persists. I don't see what his goal is, what he wants to accomplish. I'm the type of person that sits in the back of the class and quietly does what's told to do. How his friends and he even found out about me and my name is a mystery to me. I rarely talk to anyone, much less boys. Immature, silly boys. The boy shows up at the fence over and over again. He continues to annoy me, every single day. He even goes out of his way to walk next to me in the halls and purposely bump into me, causing me to either drop the textbooks I'm holding or the book I'm reading. He really is a jerk! There's no way I would want to be friends or even in the same class as a boy like him. At least in my class, there are some quiet and sensitive boys.

Anyways, today was no different from normal. After lunch, the students were let out into the schoolyard, and he showed up at the fence again. I can't believe him. Hasn't he already had enough of this 'fun' already? He was casually leaning against the fence as if he owned the place. I know that it technically isn't mine, but that spot is MINE. Mine and solely for my use.

I could see some of the girls whispering and glancing my way. There were a few boys watching too. I guess the word got around about him...and me too, since some are staring at me. I rolled my eyes. This guy is never going to give up. I am so glad that next week, I'll be tutoring students. I'll never have to see him again. At least some people will respect me.

The hallways are full of gossip, gossip that I don't want to take part in. "Oh, he said this about her…" and "She just fought with her…" and nonsense like that. Really, the students have to learn to mind their own business and keep to themselves. I heard some murmurs about the boy and me. Some said that the boy likes me, others said that I liked him. Such absurd statements! How could I possibly fall for a troublemaker like him? There is no way. Also, others just said that we were both attention seekers. As if they aren't attention seekers themselves! They probably wanted to see how I'd react to these statements; perhaps to see if I'd counter or agree. I did none of those. I just continued walking, head held high. I'm not going to get angry over such lies. I can't see how they even got into high school with the way they act. I bet they probably didn't even pass the state tests last year. How did they even graduate?

I could practically hear the whispering about the boy start, even though I was a good five meters away from the students. I suddenly became aware of the sunshine and the chirp of the birds. Almost as if I was trying to not think about the boy. No, that's not right, I'm not scared of him. I shouldn't be.

I folded my arms. "What do you want this time?"

He grinned. "Nothing, nothing from you."

"If you want nothing from me, then leave. This is my spot."

He seemed to ponder what I said. Then, grinning like the Cheshire cat, he replied, "Nah, I don't think so." After that one sentence, his mood changed pretty quickly. It went from lighthearted joking to a serious tone."I've had enough of you bossing me around. Every time, I've left for you to have this spot. Not this time. I'm going to show you that this is NOT your spot. This is MINE."

I snarled, "Leave me alone. Until you came along, everyone knew to not disturb me. Now, everyone thinks they can do whatever they want to me. They seem to think that it's a fun to play a game where they compete to see who can hit me first with basketballs, who can knock the book out of my hand first, who can anger me the first. You think that it's fun to have a ball constantly hit you in the head? To have ten bruised on your face? To sleep with constant pain? Do you want to try it?"

He glared at me. "It's not my fault that you make yourself seem all that important. I don't care how rich or spoiled you are, I'm going to teach you a lesson. Not everything revolves around you. And to answer your questions, no, no, and no. And I would want to try it, but no one can actually hit me. If they could, don't you think I would have been beaten up hundreds of times already?"

My face was reddening. I could feel it burn. There was no way that no one had ever hit him before. There was no way. If there was one thing no one was able to do, it was to respect other people. "So, are you challenging me? Inviting me to try?"

He laughed, a humorless laugh. "Like you can do any better? You're what? A year younger than me? Even my seventeen-year-old cousin can't hit me with a ball. You think that you can do better?"

I screamed. What was wrong with him? I'm going to show him who was right and who was wrong. I am not spoiled. Yes, I'm rich, my family has money. But I am not spoiled. "So, who is allowed to try?"

He looked surprised. "You actually want to try? Fine, try and fail. Embarrass yourself. I don't care. As for who, anyone you pick."

I may be quiet and not talkative, but that doesn't mean I don't have friends. In fact, I have quite a few friends. "Sonya, Kay, Cyra, April, and Brittney." They're my best friends. All of us have titles that describe us. Sonya is the artist. Kay is the athlete, Cyra is the writer, April is the singer, and Brittany is the gardener. Me? I'm "Diane, the Quiet One". I don't have a talent unless reading counts as one.

I'm just saying, they all have their own group of friends they hang out with during recess. Each person goes somewhere where they can express themselves, and unleash their true potential. But quite the crowd had gathered, and they were in the crowd. They stepped up to me.

"So, this is him?" Sonya asked.

"I've never seen him before," Cyra said.

"That's because he's in tenth grade. Don't you ever listen?" April responded.

"What do you want us to do?" Brittany asked. Her face was smudged with dirt, as usual.

"Throw balls at him, see if we can hit him," Kay answered for me.

Brittany looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. All of a sudden, a bunch of basketballs were thrown at us. They landed on at our feet or on our heads. Then the footballs sailed into the mix. Then the soccer balls rolled up to us. Then the handballs pelted our heads. I took a step back, and my friends started to fire. I watched as the boy dodged every shot. Then, he called, "Wait! Timeout!"

I asked, "What is it?"

"First off, what's the deal? What does the winner get? Second, you will have twenty shots." He shot me a look that very clearly said, you will agree to my terms.

"The deal is the winner gets the spot. All. For. Themselves." I stared at him with an even glare.

"Fine with me."

And the balls started to fire again. He called out when five balls had hit him. My friends didn't care what balls they launched at him, they were just determined to hit him - no, his head - anyway. They could come so close, and find out that it didn't hit. While they fired, I tried to study his pattern: his head always tilted around 45 degrees when he dodged a ball at his left, 50 degrees when it was on the right. And which side his head titled always followed a pattern: left, left, right, right, left, right, and repeat. He seemed so confident, even if the ball was flying to the side of his face that he was turning. On the fifteenth shot, I called for my friends to stop. Each one had taken three shots, and I wanted to make the last five myself. The stepped back, and I stepped forward.

"Finally decided to do the work yourself? What were you waiting for? Your friends to fail and embarrass them instead of you?" he sneered.

I didn't flush, I didn't flinch. I squared my shoulders and took a ball. I knew from watching him that he would turn to the right this time. I'm not the best at throwing things accurately, but this time, my arms didn't fail me. It shot straight and hit his cheek. I'd aimed for the place I'd expected his face to be, but I was just lucky that it actually hit him, and didn't just fly past a second late or a second early.

He looked shocked. His face was red, and his mouth was wide open. The look on his face, with his red cheek from where I hit him, was hilarious. I burst out laughing, unable to control myself. I doubled over with laughter, and I felt tears streaming down my face. It was too funny to resist. And slowly, the spectators that had gathered, thank God there weren't any teachers watching, started to laugh too. Everyone was soon laughing and mocking him.

His shocked face soon turned to pure rage. "So what? You hit me. I bet you couldn't do it again."

His confidence is really cute. But it shut everyone up. They probably thought that I couldn't hit him again. I'll prove them wrong. I grabbed another handball and threw. And again, it hit him. He had turned left, and the ball hit him on the forehead.

I smirked. "Want me to finish the last three throws?"

His face was red. But I saw something unexpected in his eyes. He whispered, "No. No, you don't have to. I'll leave." And he did.

What I saw in his eyes was unexpected. There was embarrassment, there was sadness, there was defeat. I think I went too far. Maybe I was spoiled. But I know for sure that I was cruel. I'd embarrassed him in the same way I never wanted to be embarrassed myself. I'd proved myself. But I'd hurt him beyond my imagination.

* * *

I saw him sitting alone on a bench. There were boys, bigger, older, and tougher, talking to him. No, mocking him. I could see their mouths twisted into cruel sneers. I walked to the boy, whose name was Troy. I just found out yesterday. When the bullies saw me coming, they practically bowed down to me like I was a queen. I could see one of them exchanging glances with another, both of them snickered. I could tell that they thought I was going to beat up Troy again. Well, sorry to disappoint you all…

"What are you all doing?" I demanded.

"Uh, having some fun with this low-level failure," the leader, Micheal, said.

"And what made you think that that was allowed?" I asked icily.

Kyle stammered, "N-n-nothing. We were j-j-just having some fun." Mason jabbed his elbow into Kyle's ribs, making him stop speaking.

"And whose idea was it that Troy was a low-level failure?" I asked, my gaze sweeping over the heads of my 'subjects'.

"Michael's,' the other three members automatically said.

My gaze drilled into Michael's eyes. "Who gave you permission to do that? To bully someone who is already tortured enough?"

"No one," Michael muttered.

"Exactly. Now run along and don't let me see you do this again."

And they ran away. I sat down next to Troy. I saw tears rolling down his cheeks. His shoulders were shaking and his face was red. The cold bench suddenly felt uncomfortable underneath me. I shifted around.

"So...um...er...how are you feeling?" I asked awkwardly.

Troy glared at me. "What do you care? You're the one who did this to me anyways. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be in this position right now."

"I know, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I was wrong. It was cruel to find joy in embarrassing you. But at that time, I enjoyed it, to see you so shaken up…" That was when I realized that I was crying too. I didn't know why. I guess sympathy and empathy caused the tears. But I didn't think that I cared about him. I didn't think I did.

He gave me a shaky laugh. "Why're you crying? It's not like you are the one hurt."

"But I hurt you. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to." My shoulders were shaking. Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn't stop them.

He reached out a hand and wiped away the tears on my face. I did the same for him. When we finished drying off each other's tears, both of our faces flushed. I guess none of us knew what had come over us. None of us meant to do that. I would like to say it was an instinct to comfort a crying person, but I think maybe it was love. But I know that love is complicated. I'm not going to push it and actually turn it into a relationship, but maybe we can be together.

He looked at me, and asked, "Want to go for tea later?"

I just smiled and nodded. Because I knew that if I tried to speak, my voice would have failed me. Why? Because all I wanted to do was to sing out loud because I had experienced love and it spread warmth through my body in a way happiness had never done for me before.