Though he sat in the back of the classroom and kept to himself, Gary still had problems dealing with some of the other students who were sitting in front of him. One in particular, George Sutton, recently returned to school after a three day suspension for administering a "swirly" on a fragile fellow student. On his return, and before the teacher walked into the classroom, George turned around in his desk chair, and shot a spitball at Gary, splattering him on the top of his head. Gary kept his head down though, and without risking a glance in the direction the wet projectile came from, brushed his hand through his curly hair to remove the tiny bits of spit and paper. He ground his teeth in agonizing humiliation, as some of the other students chuckled at his misfortune. He still lacked the courage of confrontation, and has become increasingly a favorite target of the dreaded George.
After forty-five minutes of having his head locked in a downward position, the bell to end class rang. Gary got up from his desk, and risked raising his head to see where he was going. George was already out of the classroom, probably on another seek and destroy mission targeting some poor, hapless kid harmlessly walking to the library. Gary made his way down the hallway towards his locker, and to his horror saw that George and a few other roughnecks were standing directly across from it. Gary stopped, contemplated whether or not to skip going to his locker this period, but realized he needed his calculator for algebra. Summoning up enough courage to make the walk of death, Gary slowly approached his locker. He slowly began to turn his combination lock, 30-15-32, the clicking noise of the mechanism echoing in his ears. The silence was deafening him, as he awaited the inevitable approach of his dreaded arch-nemesis. Would it be a knockdown, or a wedgie? The thoughts raced through his mind, as he frantically searched his locker for his calculator, which apparently wasn't there. He knew he left it on the top shelf! Where was it?!? Gary slammed his locker-door shut, and turned around to see the ever widening smile of George staring at him. Their eyes locked in fierce rivalry. It was him, thought Gary. Not only was he a bully, he was a thief. The hate and fear mustering itself in the depths of Gary's stomach turned into something he had never felt before. Courage, he believed it was called, or bravado. It didn't matter. Gary slowly began to walk directly towards George, picturing himself as a knight in shining armor on a Crusade against evil that he had so many times read about. He was "Gary the Bold", Savior of Stolen Calculators, Redeemer of Algebra. George's eyes began to narrow, as Gary approached him. Without a word, and summoning as much strength as his tiny body could muster, Gary took a full, right-handed swing aimed at the left side of Georges jaw.......
Gary remembered falling down, and hearing the crunch in his back left pocket. He had a salty taste in his mouth, and the hallway floor was as cold as ice. He reached around to his back pocket, and pulled out the back-case, and broken insides of a calculator he had mistakenly left there.
Bookmarks
Share
Print
Save
