Facing bullies

The fear that I felt was something I could taste, first at the tip of my tongue and then at the retreating fold into my throat. I swallowed, ever so painfully, on the lump in my throat.

“We’re not going to hurt you—” one of them said in a mocking voice, “—much,” the other guy completed with a chuckle.

My legs had given out in fear, and I had fallen to the ground. I curled myself up, hoping to protect my face and stomach when the kicks and blows came raining down.

I heard a loud blow, and a kick, but I didn’t feel any pain, and the scorn and cries weren’t from me either. I opened my eyes to see a tall figure in front of me, beating the shit out of one of the guys. I saw only one when I opened my eyes, but I didn’t see the other. Maybe he had escaped from Riley’s terror.

“If I ever see you anywhere as close as 200 miles to him, I swear I’ll kill you!”

Riley’s voice was a roar. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him this angry. It was scary. I believed him—that he would kill him. There was no space in his fiery tone to suggest that he was bluffing.

The guy was begging, “Please, please… I’m… I’m sorry,” and when Riley let go of him, he fell to the ground, and almost immediately—like a deer chased by a leopard—he got up and dashed away.

Riley was standing there, and I was looking up at him, my hero in shining armor. I imagined a cape blowing in the wind from his back.

He pulled me up.

“You really do need to stop being so—” He stopped to look for the most suitable word “—bullyable,” he completed. His tone was annoyed, like he was annoyed and maybe—scared that something had happened to me. I didn’t understand why. Why should he be worried? Why should he be bothered that something would happen to me? Was it because he didn’t want any other person to bully me apart from himself?

“Sorry,” I said, my voice still trembling. I didn’t know what I was sorry for. Not being able to fight for myself or getting him angry.

“What the fuck are you apologizing for?” His voice thundered even higher, and I was scared—scared that he might hurt me, that I had gotten him very angry. My hands were folded together and my shoulders were slightly higher as if to cover my head.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, and my trembling voice was now transforming itself into a full-fledged sob. I felt ashamed and didn’t know how to help myself. I didn’t know why I was crying.

“Hey, hey.” He propped me up from my sides with both his hands. “Let’s get you to your room,” he said, and I nodded quickly, wiping the tears off my eyes with the back of my hands.

I didn’t want to think of what I was doing anymore, or whatever was going on. I just wanted to get to my room.

Riley walked me back to my dorm. He stayed close to me like a personal bodyguard, following me until I reached my room.

“Thank you,” I said. He didn’t respond. I entered my room, and he stood there until I closed the door.

I stayed on my bed, wondering for how long he stood there, or if he was still even there. It worried me so much that he might still be there, and I wanted to go out and call him inside, to leave the biting cold and sleep on my bed.

***********

I didn’t see Erica, because she was in a conference, and Henry had an extra class, so I was sitting alone at the cafeteria. Normally, we sat close to the server, where the heavy aroma of the foods was imminent in the air. It wasn’t the best spot, and that was why we stayed there, because the best spots were filled with the best people.

I didn’t know why I came. I wasn’t even hungry. I usually ate only because Erica insisted on it. She had once told me that if I refused to eat, she would tear open my stomach and drop both the food and the plate in. Even though I laughed at the satire comment, it was scary and graphic to imagine.

I was still deciding if I should go eat when I heard someone call me “Faggot.” Just beside me, Riley and his friends were seated, and one of his friends had called me the slur. He was laughing—the kind of laugh you make when seeking others’ approval to carry on.

But Riley wasn’t laughing, and if Riley didn’t laugh, no one else did. So he laughed alone, and it died down when no one joined him.

I wished Riley would say something to me—a hi, ask me how I was, or if I had eaten. I wish he didn’t act like I was totally invisible. Like he didn’t save me from bullies just last night. Like he had not escorted me to my dorm. Like he had not placed me on his lap. I don’t know if I had the right to feel pained, but I did. And there was Kimberly Hawthorn, the principal’s daughter, propping her head so closely to Riley’s shoulder. I felt a sudden and intense urge to do something. To make something feel real.

I saw myself walk up to Liam, Riley’s friend, and I pointed a finger at him. “I’m not ashamed of being gay. I’m ashamed that I have to be gay in a world with people like you.” The words that left my lips were tart.

I didn’t know how I did that, or if I was able to do that. I also didn’t know why. But I hoped it made Riley proud. I hoped he was now looking at me, that he would be pleased that I stood up for myself.

Liam took the cup of orange juice on his table and poured it on me. The yellowish liquid soaked my shirt wet and was dropping a mess from me. Eyes turned and people were. I watched Riley sit there. He did nothing. Even though others were laughing, even though Kimberly was laughing too, almost resting her head on his chest as she chuckled, he was expressionless.

Liam had said something to me that I did not hear, and I did not care too. Not for the cameras or the people who laughed. I simply did not care. I languorously walked out, awash with feelings I could not explain.

Later, when I went to Riley’s suite, the door was locked. He was not around. He texted me that he was at the arena, that I should meet him there.