By R.J. Tennyson
Inhaling his cigarette, Barry Bowers watched Darryl Harrigan and Steve Carson from the safety of behind the music room. He coughed and wheezed from the mixture of the cool air and warm smoke that filled his lungs. Technically they weren’t his cigarettes. He had stolen them from his mother’s handbag as he left for school that morning.
Barry hated this school, just like he hated the four others he had been at in the past three years. The only thing he hated more than the school where Darryl and Steve, the two bullies that made his life hell.
They taunted.
They laughed.
They intimidated.
They threatened.
He recently joined Facebook, and now the tormenting had become relentless; 24/7. There seemed to be nowhere for him to escape, so that’s why his safe spot behind the music room was so special.
His perfect view of the two bullies left him somewhat exposed to the teachers lounge, particularly to the Vice Principal, Ol’ Man Grant. Ol’ Man Grant loathed smoking in the schoolyard almost as much as he loathed Barry. If given the choice between being caught by the bullies or by the Vice Principal, Barry still would have chosen Ol’ Man Grant any day of the week. As scary as he was, Ol’ Man Grant was bound by professional conduct. There were no rules of engagement that bound bullies, and certainly no schoolyard Geneva Convention.
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOIN’ BOWERS?” Ol’ Man Grant screamed. Shaking with a mixture of shock and fear, Barry dropped the cigarette and nervously ground it into the mud with his dirty worn runner.
Having heard Ol’ Man Grant scream, Darryl and Steve decided to add to Barry’s humiliation. “Suck shit Bowers ya wanker,” they laughed.
Ol’ Man Grant got right up in Barry’s face, “You’re an idiot, Bowers. A damn idiot.” Barry hung his head in shame, not wanting to make eye contact.
“Don’t you have somewhere you’re meant to be, Bowers?”
“Ummm errr, yes Mr Grant. Pure mathematics in 2A.”
“Well then go, or this will be your last day teaching at this school!”
As Barry scampered towards his students waiting in 2A, the taunts from Darryl and Steve followed him.
R.J. Tennyson - Writer 