“He's your brother. You should never, ever pick other kids over him. You are going to be all you have some day. You're supposed to protect him when kids pick on him. If it upsets you, you don't get rid of him, you do something about it.”
“I'm tired of it. I'm normal mom. Why do I have to deal with his stuff all the time? I just want to hang out with my friends and not have to worry about him.”
“Scooter, this conversation is over. Either you go with Sam or you don't go at all. Case closed.”
There is a pause before he comes out to the living room. He opens the front door. “I'm coming. I have to get my bike from the garage. I'll meet you guys out front. Sam's coming too,” he sulks.
Scoot shuts the door, and mutters as he walks past,“Come on Sam, grab your bike, we're riding out to the creek.”
I jump up, pretending not to hear the disappointment in his voice. I wish Scoot liked me more, but I am happy to play with the older boys, even if they pick on me sometimes. They're not as bad as the other kids my age because they don't want to make Scooter mad. I make it a point not to say much around them. I just want to be by their sides.
I follow Scoot, but he races to the garage and grabs his bike suddenly, hopping on it and sprinting away. He waves the boys ahead of him. “Go! Go! Go!” he yells. They all laugh mischievously and jump on their bikes, sprinting as fast as they can.
“Wait!” I call out, trying to get some junk off my bike.
I'm confused, but I take it as a challenge to catch up, so I pump the pedals. They are far ahead and make a sharp right vanishing from my sight. My smile turns into a frown when I realize this isn't a game. They're trying to lose me. They don't want me, not even Scoot. I start crying. The wind blows the tears off my face as they leak from my eyes, one by one.
But I am fast. Faster than all of them. I will catch them and show Scoot he can't lose me because I am better than him at this. I turn the corner and see them. I stand on my pedals for leverage, my thighs burning, the tears fading away. I push hard, my lungs on fire. I'm gaining. Getting closer. Closer. The sadness turns to victory in knowing that these much bigger boys can't outrun me on their best day.
I'm going to win.
Then there's a screaming sound. No, not screaming. Screeching. The smell of burnt rubber. Before I can look over, I feel my body thud against the metal and glass. It's not pain I feel at first, more like an earthquake rumbling in my body. I can feel my insides shake. I actually see the man's eyes through the windshield—confused, scared.
“Oh shit!” I hear one of boys shout. The man looks back at them and then at me. That's when the aching starts. He's going to stop and help, I think. I understand he's shocked. I am too. I groan as I look up at the boys racing my way. Maybe they don't hate me after all.
But the car lurches back, and since I can't move, I just roll off the front onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. He drives forward and around me, the front tires barely missing my head. He's going to leave me here, but as the car screeches again, I feel myself moving, and when I look down, I see the leg of my pants is hooked onto something, a part of the bike, which is jammed under the car. The bike sparks as it pulls me along the asphalt.
This time the pain is instant, as my clothes grind against the pavement and turn into nothing. And then next, the skin on the right side of my body. I don't remember how I got free. I think I passed out way before that.
I don't feel myself walking over there. I just hear James crying, like an echoing chorus in my head. It sounds just like my own cries when they would change the bandages at the hospital on my raw skin. He's bleeding, but it's not him I'm walking over to. The kid who did it, the little prick who thought it would be funny to blindside a kid on the bike, he already made a beeline to cut through a yard because he's too much of a pussy to face the mess he made.
I have the mask in my hands. I don't remember grabbing it from the car but I guess I did. Rage is exponential and that piece of shit bully picked the wrong time and the wrong kid to fuck with.
I know this neighborhood like the back of my hand. Every yard, every fence. This is one of my hunting grounds. I cut ahead of his path, my face shielded in a mask that will haunt him for the rest of his miserable life. I wait in a bush until I hear the oversized kid in his undersized shirt walking through the yard. When he's within reach I grab him, throw him to the ground, and cover his mouth.
“Listen you little piece of shit,” I curl the collar of his shirt in my fist, lifting him up and slamming him back down. “If you ever push another kid again, I'll cut off your little dick and make you eat it. Understand?”
My vision adjusts to the darkness and I see the glowing whites of his bulging eyes.
He tries to choke out a response, or a cry for help, but nothing comes out. Not so tough now.
“And if you tell anyone about this. Your mother, your father, anyone…I'll come into your house one night and I'll fuck your mother. I'll make her scream for help and make your father watch. I'll make you watch. You understand?”