“As some of you know, there have been cases of bullying. This is a serious matter that this school will not take lightly. We have a short film to help educate you on what steps should be taken if you are bullied, or witness bullying.”
The overhead lights dimmed and a beam of light from the AV room near the top of the gym pierced the gloom. The AV room, a recent addition accessed by a set of stairs outside of the gym, was prized by the faculty as a means to broadcast school news.
A shot of the girl’s bathroom burst onto the white gym wall we used for projection. My mouth popped open as I saw myself walk into the bathroom and go to the mirror. Some students near me started laughing quietly. The faculty, standing on the gym floor, started conferring in whispers as on screen, Penny walked in and we started talking.
One of the teachers left the gym presumably to reach the AV room and stop the movie. The lights in the gym turned on as Penny knocked the books out of my hand. No one moved. Everyone stayed focused on the projection. My stomach filled with piercing shards of ice.
“The assembly is over. Return to your last hour class. Those with Physical Education should go to the locker rooms and wait there,” the principal shouted, unable to use his microphone as the PA had been taken over by my voice, “All you’re going to prove is how mean you can be.”
No one moved. All eyes remained riveted on Penny as she stared at me, and I moved to retrieve the books. I could taste my panic, the flavor disgustingly reminiscent of vomit. Penny had finally succeeded. Everyone would believe her about me.
I closed my eyes as the recording of my voice rang out. “Stop.” A murmuring rose in the gym, loud enough that others started shushing their neighbors as I gave Penny my little speech and then left the bathroom.
Opening my eyes, I caught the angle of the video change as the cameraman climbed off the toilet and opened the stall door to zoom in on Penny’s outraged face. Penny’s words, “I still can’t move,” echoed through the eerily quiet gym. The last image on the wall was of Penny suddenly falling to the floor. The projection shut off.
My face heated unnaturally. Someone next to me whispered to their neighbor, “Holy crap! Penny wasn’t lying.”
I sat up in the bleachers, surrounded by my peers. All eyes turned to me. A side door opened, and a teacher escorted a beaming Penny into the gym. As I stood, I grabbed everyone’s will but hers and planted a seed.
“You just witnessed proof of Penny’s dogged determination to expose something extraordinary. Instead, all she did was paint herself as a bully and show she has an amazing ability to act.”
Releasing their wills, I nudged my way through my stunned classmates. As I moved, I heard things like, “I can’t believe she was so mean,” and, “I would have slapped her face instead of walking out.”
Penny’s smug expression faltered as she noticed the change in everyone. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at me. I walked up to Penny while holding the faculty back with simple wait-and-see thoughts. I stopped just in front of her.
“Whoever you had filming did a wonderful job,” I said. “If you’re this good over a no name nothing like me, I can only imagine how good you’ll be when you’re reporting on something real. Good luck.”
I walked from the gym with my head high. The sound of whispers faded as I went to my locker and emptied it of everything except the textbooks. It was more than I could jam in my backpack. I stared at the loose papers and various work that still needed to be completed. Then, I threw everything into the trash. I wouldn’t be back.
I picked up my bag, closed the locker, and made my way to the main entrance. Any remaining faculty who moved to question me, I turned away with a thought.
Outside, the air smelled of warm blacktop. Spring was making way for summer.
I stopped on the steps and turned to look back. Despite releasing the wills of everyone in the gym, I continued to sense their threads. They still watched Penny. My throat tightened as I pictured her red, angry face. I’d made a serious enemy of her as a child, one I’d underestimated all these years. Her determination to expose me consumed her, and I considered going back to make her forget everything.
Instead, I walked away.
The trek home didn’t take long. Neither Mom nor Dad was there, yet. I went to my room, set my backpack on the bed, and looked around. Memories of a happy childhood decorated my space. Shells collected from a beach sat next to the barrettes Mom gave me for my last birthday. I touched the little clips. I rarely wore them. I was too old. But, she didn’t see me that way. My hand dropped to the first dresser drawer, and I pulled it open. Slowly, I started to remove the essentials I’d need and placed them in the backpack.
Thirty minutes later, Mom came home. I waited for her in the kitchen.
“Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?”
“It didn’t go well, Mom,” I said, grabbing her will. An ache grew in my chest for what I knew I needed to do.