Ever
. Elbowed into lockers, tackled mercilessly during flag football, thrown into the showers fully clothed, all to the growing cheers of my fellow inmates. And not just once. Repeatedly.
It wasn’t because I was gay. No, we didn’t mention that. Kids are far too simplistic for that, actually. It was simply because I just didn’t fit in. I didn’t fit with the “fits,” and I didn’t fit with the “misfits.” And people like Luke Walcott demanded that the weak be devoured. Survival of the fittest, in action.
“Derek, was it?” he said. “Hi. Nice to see you. Welcome.” Luke extended his hand to shake mine. I froze for a second. All those years. All that torment, and here I am faced with the moment where I can finally say what I have been wanting to say to him for years. It’s not like I practiced it in a mirror about a million times, or anything, but here goes. Get ready, Luke. Ihope you’re prepared for this onslaught, because here it comes, Big Man on Campus!
“Nice to see you, as well,” I said and extended my hand, smiles all around.
Pardon me. Has anyone seen my balls? I seem to have misplaced them.
6
THE LUNCH ROOM
A high school cafeteria is the perfect setting for a reality show. And a shoot out.
Week one was over, and I was getting settled into my new role. Bammy and I carried our trays towards the teachers’ tables and found a spot near the end. It felt very strange to be sharing a space with so many of the blue hairs who had left their indelible prints on the psyche of my youth. Mrs. Miller’s fingers and tongue were still blue and green from the dry erase markers she used on the overhead projector in her geometry class. Good to see that some things haven’t changed. At all.
“How does it feel so far?” asked Bammy. “Weird, right? That’ll pass.” She was focused on deconstructing a slice of pizza from the school cafeteria, carefully pulling the cheese and pepperoni off the soggy bread underneath.
“I had forgotten how much fun it was to drink chocolate milk from one of these tiny cardboard boxes,’’ I said, trying desperately to open the spout without destroying the entire carton. These things are definitely not made for adult fingers and thumbs.
“So,” she ventured, “did I notice a bit of tension between you and Luke Walcott last week when we had our tour? What’s up with that?” She scooped some pizza cheese onto her fork and started eating, oblivious to the verbal dogs I was about to unleash.
“Bammy, are you kidding me?” I said. “That guy tortured me when we were kids. I had nightmares about coming to school, I was so freaked out about what his gang of followers would do to me.”
“Honestly,” she said, putting her fork down and reaching for her diet soda, “I don’t remember it being that bad. Yeah, kids are jerks, but are you sure you’re remembering it right?” She looked at me with raised eyebrows and took another sip.
“Bammy, you were much more popular than me. I mean, we were friends and all, but we kind of ran in different circles,” I said, frustrated that our memories could be so different. “You hung out with all those pretty girls and I was hanging with the drama geeks and band nerds. Maybe I didn’t confide in you as much back then,” I conceded, “but I’m not making up how it felt to see him again. I felt like a teenager, and I hated it.” I couldn’t be that angry with her. I loved Bammy, and I needed every friend I could get right now, but our memories on this subject were not agreeing.
“Mind if I join you?” The voice came from above. I looked up and saw Luke, decked out in his coach shorts and whistle, his pectoral muscles desperately trying to escape the confines of his Tennessee Volunteers t-shirt. My god, this man was… my enemy. Concentrate, Derek!
“Uh,” I stared at his chest and looked up into his stark blue eyes, unsure of what to say. Why is he here? Can’t he sit with the prison guards?
Bammy caught my
. Elbowed into lockers, tackled mercilessly during flag football, thrown into the showers fully clothed, all to the growing cheers of my fellow inmates. And not just once. Repeatedly.
It wasn’t because I was gay. No, we didn’t mention that. Kids are far too simplistic for that, actually. It was simply because I just didn’t fit in. I didn’t fit with the “fits,” and I didn’t fit with the “misfits.” And people like Luke Walcott demanded that the weak be devoured. Survival of the fittest, in action.
“Derek, was it?” he said. “Hi. Nice to see you. Welcome.” Luke extended his hand to shake mine. I froze for a second. All those years. All that torment, and here I am faced with the moment where I can finally say what I have been wanting to say to him for years. It’s not like I practiced it in a mirror about a million times, or anything, but here goes. Get ready, Luke. Ihope you’re prepared for this onslaught, because here it comes, Big Man on Campus!
“Nice to see you, as well,” I said and extended my hand, smiles all around.
Pardon me. Has anyone seen my balls? I seem to have misplaced them.
6
THE LUNCH ROOM
A high school cafeteria is the perfect setting for a reality show. And a shoot out.
Week one was over, and I was getting settled into my new role. Bammy and I carried our trays towards the teachers’ tables and found a spot near the end. It felt very strange to be sharing a space with so many of the blue hairs who had left their indelible prints on the psyche of my youth. Mrs. Miller’s fingers and tongue were still blue and green from the dry erase markers she used on the overhead projector in her geometry class. Good to see that some things haven’t changed. At all.
“How does it feel so far?” asked Bammy. “Weird, right? That’ll pass.” She was focused on deconstructing a slice of pizza from the school cafeteria, carefully pulling the cheese and pepperoni off the soggy bread underneath.
“I had forgotten how much fun it was to drink chocolate milk from one of these tiny cardboard boxes,’’ I said, trying desperately to open the spout without destroying the entire carton. These things are definitely not made for adult fingers and thumbs.
“So,” she ventured, “did I notice a bit of tension between you and Luke Walcott last week when we had our tour? What’s up with that?” She scooped some pizza cheese onto her fork and started eating, oblivious to the verbal dogs I was about to unleash.
“Bammy, are you kidding me?” I said. “That guy tortured me when we were kids. I had nightmares about coming to school, I was so freaked out about what his gang of followers would do to me.”
“Honestly,” she said, putting her fork down and reaching for her diet soda, “I don’t remember it being that bad. Yeah, kids are jerks, but are you sure you’re remembering it right?” She looked at me with raised eyebrows and took another sip.
“Bammy, you were much more popular than me. I mean, we were friends and all, but we kind of ran in different circles,” I said, frustrated that our memories could be so different. “You hung out with all those pretty girls and I was hanging with the drama geeks and band nerds. Maybe I didn’t confide in you as much back then,” I conceded, “but I’m not making up how it felt to see him again. I felt like a teenager, and I hated it.” I couldn’t be that angry with her. I loved Bammy, and I needed every friend I could get right now, but our memories on this subject were not agreeing.
“Mind if I join you?” The voice came from above. I looked up and saw Luke, decked out in his coach shorts and whistle, his pectoral muscles desperately trying to escape the confines of his Tennessee Volunteers t-shirt. My god, this man was… my enemy. Concentrate, Derek!
“Uh,” I stared at his chest and looked up into his stark blue eyes, unsure of what to say. Why is he here? Can’t he sit with the prison guards?
Bammy caught my
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