The First Fight [jay]

He moved slowly, edging his way to the left, seeking to gain an advantage over the longer reach of his adversary. Rimmed by fellow victims, he imagined himself to be a tiger leaping at its prey. He moved in quick and hard, hoping to land a quick body blow to the lower ribs followed by a straight jab to the nose, just like Dad had told him. With guard raised, the initial execution of his plan began perfectly.

As the fight began, everything moved into slow motion. The long, dirty bangs of the bully were shrouding his eyes, masking their fear and hatred. The antagonist’s underarms were wet and his feet moved slowly under the weight of his stocky frame. Never before had the enemy experienced someone answer his challenge. Always a bully and never a fighter, fear gripped his heart at the sight of the fire in the eyes of the boy two years his younger. Never before had a second grader had this kind of guts.

“You better back off,” the bully said.

“Never,” the boy said, his blue eyes blazing.

“I’m gonna kill you,” the fourth grader threatened again.

The boy didn’t care anymore. Sick and tired of the bully, he had prepared for this moment, the point in time when resolve conquers fear and courage is born. He stepped in quick and hard, his eyes focused on landing that punch to the nose. As he rushed in, the bully kicked him in the groin with all his power.

Nauseated and doubled over in pain, the boy fell to the ground. His eyes filled with tears and his ears filled with the laughter of the bully. Trying to choose between throwing up and getting up, he just couldn’t move.

Things moved from slow motion to standstill. What would his friends think? Would they laugh at him? Is this what courage brings you – embarrassment? What about justice? What about the code? What would Dad say? Why is it that when you try the hardest you get beaten down the most? This was not fair.

But Justice was watching.

The rules of the playground had been violated. Everyone there knew that what had just transpired was one of the dirtiest forms of cheating. His friends gathered around the boy and helped him up. The bully stood there laughing, waiting to see what he would do next. The boy faced him, hunched over with his hands on his knees, staring at the bully, surrounded by his friends – all of them glowering at the bulky fourth grader. And then they turned and walked away.

No one picked on the boy or his friends ever again.