Interim

“Easy to say when you’ve never experienced the repercussions. Trust me on this. I’m trying to help you out,” Hannah said.

 

Jeremy reluctantly chimed in. “She’s right.”

 

Regan bristled. “If it hurts, why can’t I show it?”

 

“Because they’ll hurt you worse,” Jeremy said.

 

“You don’t seem to care about it anymore,” Regan pointed out. She eyed his Ranch dressing, then dipped her carrot in it.

 

“Because I lift,” he said.

 

“Huh?”

 

Hannah grinned in understanding.

 

“I lift. If they come after me now, I’ll break their necks.”

 

Regan blinked.

 

“He’s stronger, you dope!” Hannah cried, chuckling. “Haven’t you noticed no one gives him shit this year? He’s got the guy advantage—testosterone. Well, he’s always had the guy advantage. Just now he’s done something with it.” She waited.

 

Regan lifted her eyebrow.

 

“His muscles, Regan. Jesus Christ. Don’t you know anything about physiology?”

 

“Soooo, you and I need to grow muscles, then?” Regan asked.

 

Hannah snorted. “We’d never be as strong. And anyway, you don’t need to worry about punches. They’ll just attack you psychologically because you’re a pretty girl.”

 

Regan rolled her eyes.

 

“They get physical with me because I look like a dyke. If I were little and cute like you, I’d only have to worry about the verbal assaults.”

 

Regan shifted uncomfortably. “Can we change the subject?”

 

“Why?” Hannah asked. “You wanted to sit here.”

 

“And I know you two don’t talk about this stuff,” Regan said.

 

That was true. Hannah and Jeremy never talked about bullying. They talked about video games and snowboarding and how much they hated their dads. But that was their conversation, not hers.

 

“I thought you’d want pointers,” Hannah said.

 

“I don’t need pointers,” Regan replied.

 

Hannah considered her. “No, you don’t need pointers. But that’s not the reason you want to change the subject. You’re uncomfortable hearing about our abuse because you used to be on the other side. You identified with the people who treated us like shit.”

 

“Hannah, come on,” Jeremy said.

 

“I’m right, though,” Hannah said to him. “Aren’t I?”

 

Regan nodded. Hannah wasn’t expecting that. The threesome sat for a time in silence, chewing and thinking.

 

“Well, go on then,” Regan said.

 

“Go on with what?” Hannah asked.

 

“Making me feel badly. Giving me victim pointers. Go on. I’m ready for it. As long as you promise to be done with it today.”

 

Hannah thought a moment. “Okay, deal.”

 

Jeremy wiped his mouth and sighed.

 

“So what’s first, Jer? Jesus, we’ve never even discussed it,” Hannah said.

 

“I don’t know,” he replied.

 

“I do,” Hannah said. She looked Regan over. “What secrets have you shared with Casey?”

 

Regan’s heart plummeted to the floor.

 

“Well?” Hannah persisted.

 

“Everything,” Regan breathed.

 

“Okay, then. That’s the first thing you’re gonna deal with. By the end of the week, everyone will know all your shit.”

 

“Oh my God,” Regan whispered. The image of wrapping her breasts flashed into her mind. Was it a big deal if people laughed at her about it? Uh, yeah. It was a big fucking deal!

 

She shot up from the table and headed for Casey. When she reached the popular group, she stood waiting for someone to acknowledge her. No one did.

 

“Have you shared my secrets?” she demanded, glaring at Casey.

 

Casey turned her face even as Ethan forbade her to. She stared at Regan.

 

“Have you?” Regan pressed.

 

“What secrets?” Casey asked.

 

“Any of them!”

 

“Would you like me to?”

 

Hannah’s voice echoed in her head: Don’t let them see you cry. Her eyes welled. This was Casey. Her BFF. Confidant. Other sister.

 

“Would you do that to me, Casey?” she whispered low. Barely audible.

 

Casey hesitated, eyes fixed on Regan’s. And then Regan saw the imperceptible shaking of her head: Everything’s fine. I would never do that to you. Don’t worry.

 

Regan fought down the words she so wanted to blurt: “Come with me! Stay with me! Get away from them as fast as you can!”

 

She turned on her heel, instead, and left the cafeteria.

 

 

 

 

 

~

 

There’s gotta be a Bully Code out there somewhere. That’s why so many are good at it. Yeah, basic internal evil helps a lot, but the really good ones are studying up. They’re making notes in the margins. Asking questions. Making sure they get it just right—just the right amount of intimidation to make someone pee themselves. What these assholes probably aren’t aware of is the fact that there’s a Victim Code, too. It can’t prevent the punches and hurtful words, but it can help victims cope with the aftereffects. The code looks something like this:

 

1. Don’t acknowledge a bully by looking directly at his face. You’re just inviting trouble when you do that. He’s going to go after you regardless. No need to piss him off any further.

 

2. Don’t fight back. You’ll just get it ten times worse. (See No. 7 for exception to this rule.)

 

3. Relinquish whatever he wants. Hey, lunch isn’t all that important, right?

 

4. Don’t discuss victimization with other victims. Banding together does nothing. Find maybe one other victim to hang with, but talk about anything other than bullying.

 

5. When you’re getting pummeled, go into “shutdown” mode. Erase your thoughts. Think large, black, empty space. This helps dull the pain from both physical and verbal assaults.

 

6. Don’t cry. Just don’t. I repeat: don’t fucking cry.

 

7. If the opportunity presents itself, throw a punch, but only if you KNOW you’ll make contact, and you KNOW you can escape right after. Otherwise, you’re the idiot who tried to make a difference.

 

8. Don’t bother telling adults about the bullying. They don’t do shit about it anyway.

 

9. Find music that inspires you to take revenge in your fantasies. Listen to it at night before bed to pump you up for the next school day. Only way you’re making it through.

 

10. Don’t get a girlfriend or boyfriend. Just don’t. Then you’ve dragged them into it, and that’s a jerk move.

 

~

 

 

 

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