Not much happens to me here. I'm well respected. Often, I'm a real nice guy, but for some reason, people make the assumption that all nice guys are soft. What I did made them think twice.
I was moderately popular. I was solemn, however. You'd see me in the courtyard, chilling with my legs crossed on a bench, and either reading or drawing. I wasn't looked down on by many, and people weren't afraid to come up to me and say "Hi." However, as with everybody, there were a few people who weren't too fond of me.
They were an odd group of people. One of them in particular was in favor of the neo-Nazis. He'd often get sent for wearing offensive, Nazi-oriented clothing. He was the one who decided to test me.
A normal day at lunch with summer kicking in gave everybody a little aggravated voice.
I was sitting on my favorite bench, reading, "The Prince," a Machiavelli classic. Nobody was in sight, which was the perfect time to read.
Page 143 was suddenly clouded by a shadow, and I look up. It was the Nazi kid. "Can I help ya, bro?"
"Yeah," he sneered, "you can start by getting back in the oven."
I froze a little inside, but decided to not react. "... Let me read, bro."
"I ain't going nowhere, dumb a**." He started to get in a threatening position.
I was trying not to instigate, or throw fuel to the fire, so I forced myself up, closed the book, and started walking away.
"Where the ******** are you going!" He starts following me, but keeping a distance with his goons behind him. I didn't answer back. He knew how to get to me, though. Everybody in the school did. "You gonna be a lil' p***y just like your dad?"
I stopped, rage flowing through my blood, as if it were replacing it. He knew insulting my family would get me.
I turn around and walk toward him, threatening my gait.
He acts as if he is the the big man but raising his arms, saying "What are YOU gonna do?"
I stop, a foot away from his face. "Parking lot, 8 o'clock. Be there, or be smart." I storm off. I couldn't see how he reacted because I didn't look back. I just looked forward to crushing him.
My dad was a hero, who served in Irag. My grandfather was a hero, who served in Vietnam. My great grandfather was a hero, who served on the front lines in WWII. All Jewish. Never will I take any sort of disrespect towards any of them.
The day moved on quickly, and before I knew it, I was outside in the parking lot, waiting for Hitler Jr. to show. Time moved by, and kids started gathering, waiting for the fight. Word gets around quick, but that didn't matter.
Out of nowhere, the kids' heads were turned in one direction. He showed. He had actually showed.
Nobody was there to announce the rules of the fight, nor call it's beginning. As soon as he saw my face, he came running. It was time.
The first blow was his, straight into my stomach. I arched, and he took that advantage to shove his elbow through my back. I slammed to the ground. The kids rallied.
On the ground, I was turned over, and a punch was heading straight for my face. With luck, I flicked my head to the side, and I could hear his knuckles crack as they hit the concrete.
His head moved closer to mine as a reflex to his pain, and I took that chance of a head-butt. I quickly slammed my head onto his, and rolled us over. With a single blow to his face, his nose began spewing. "So you're a bleeder, huh?" I say, panting as I continually throw blows to his torso.
His defense was a sucker punch to my gonads, and I rolled over in pain. He tried with his might to rise from the crimson-stained concrete, and eventually, he did. But the moment he looked up, I was already back up and kicked his face, forcing him to slam back to the ground. "OH!" The kids shouted in shock of his body crashing back to the ground with such a violent jerk. They then went silent, not knowing how to react.
I walk over to him, gently holding my groin. I look down, and he's moving slightly, not knowing how to deal with the pain. "You dumb ********!" I yelled. "Did I not say to be smart!" I was panting with rage. "Next time... Next time you, or ANYBODY else disrespects my family with the audacity you had, I WON'T stop fighting when you're down!"
My groin was throbbing. "I never wanted to do that... But I could never let it slide..." The focus was on me, but I paid no attention to the crowd of kids as I started to walk off. One of the Nazi kid's friends shouted something at me, but I was too far away to understand him, although I am sure to this day that he had said, "******** you, Zach!"
Ever since that night, fewer and fewer people had talked to the group with the Nazi kid, but everybody remained at least acquaintances with me. Nobody had ever brought it up with me, but I hear people in the background from time to time say, "Isn't he the one who kicked that kid's a**?" The topic doesn't bother me none. I will just continue to rest in the courtyard, reading.
No comments available ...