Group Attack

"Gotta wonder why he even bothers coming in anymore, to be honest," Decker said.

"Yeah, total loser to be honest. Couldn't even manage to write a stupid list about the Powered," Another one of Micheal's friends, Matt, chimed in.

"Yeah, if he's not gonna put any effort in, why even show up?" That one was Micheal.

They may have sounded like they were talking to each other, but I knew that in actual fact they were directing their snide remarks at me.

It was a calculated play, allowing them to retain a level of plausible deniability all the while still managing to throw insults at me, just by pretending I wasn't there. If it hadn't been aimed at me, I probably would have laughed at how ridiculous it was.

They were there waiting as I left the main hall of the old community centre that had been turned into our school. Micheal, Matt and Decker along with a few other random people from our class backing them up and forced me into a corner. I wasn't able to get past them without getting pushed around or elbowed back.

All I could do was lean up against the wall, listening while they all throw insults my way.

Before one of them was finished the next one started, throwing new waves of insulting nonsense my way.

For the most part, they weren't even thinking about what they were actually saying. It was just random stuff, a torrent of words. But that was the point. It wasn't about delivering the hardest hitting insult the world had ever witnessed, it was about hammering home the same idea over and over again.

The idea that I was worthless, that I didn't matter, and that they were all better than me.

If I had a moment to butt in, to say something, maybe I could have come up with some sort of counter to the strategy. All I needed to do was shift the tempo of the conversation in my favour and then they'd never be able to find their flow again.

But I couldn't.

They were talking constantly, and there weren't any openings in the conversation where they wouldn't just talk over me.

The tactic itself was new, but I'd been dealing with people calling me names and telling me how worthless I was for about as long as I could remember, and at some point along the line, I actually came to a different realisation. Fighting back was never the answer, not with them, instead, I should just stand here and take it until they got bored.

Me fighting back was exactly what they wanted. If I tried to stand up for myself, and then they still managed to win by shutting down my comebacks, then they would just have even bigger egos.

If I ended up winning in the encounter? Well, then the next time they'd just become even worse, even meaner. It was the same reason I didn't try harder to get my homework back from Decker in class. I just needed to stand here and wait for them to get bored, or for them to get hungry enough to leave me alone to eat their lunch.

As the group continued to throw out insult after insult, Mr Kamoga left his classroom, no more than a few feet away from the crowd that had built up around me. Clearly, none of the bullies cared, because even as he left the room none of them stopped hurling out their insults. If anything, they only got worse.

"God, if I were him I'd probably just off myself," One of them stated.

Kamoga's eyes met mine.

"I know right? What a waste of water and food! He brings the whole community down!"

I wasn't crying or anything like that, but I couldn't keep the pain off my face or out of my eyes entirely. But all Mr Kamoga offered me was a sad look before he turned and walked away. He'd only just finished telling me about how he could help me if I opened up, but just as I had expected that had been a bare-faced lie.

What he was doing in that conversation was nothing more than covering himself. Doing the absolute minimum that was required of him when he noticed that something was going on. The truth of the matter was that he'd probably given up on me, just like everyone else did,

after one tiny attempt at trying to help. Apparently, after turning that down I wasn't worth the effort anymore.

I let my hand ball into a fist before forcing it to relax.

I was strong. I was fit. I could technically try to swing my way out of this situation. I was certainly stronger than a lot of the people that made up the crowd, that was for sure.

But deep down I knew that throwing the first punch was never going to be a good idea. For a start, I definitely would have lost the fight in the end. For a second point, if I started off first they could turn the entire situation against me. Claim that I'd been the one to start things.

"What's up Tristan? You look sad," Micheal said, a smirk on his face.

I glanced up at that. It was a different statement from the rest of the insults that had been thrown out so far, and it didn't even fit the scenario. I wasn't upset, I was frustrated, angry and more than a little bit bored.

"Maybe you're so upset that you'll cry yourself to sleep tonight… just like you did when… well, you know," He said, the smirk only growing.

I let out a sputtering gasp as I realised what he had said.

When we were younger Micheal and I had been friends, and on one of the worst nights of my life, he had been there for me.

Now he had taken what had happened on that night and thrown it right back into my face.