The bully's choice

Alfie

I wasn’t sure how many days had passed, maybe two or three. I had received no calls, neither had I looked at a screen—not my phone’s or a television’s. I didn’t know what made me feel so relevant, but for some odd reason, I felt that I would appear on the news.

I had been keeping up with my therapy sessions and had allowed visitors—the only ones I know, Henry and Erica. They didn’t ask me how it happened, or when it happened. They just came, with different brands of pineapple juice.

I was grateful. I wanted to say thank you. But it felt like there was an inflated bulb in my throat, so nothing came out when I opened my mouth to speak. I felt guilty for not speaking, and I was too aware of the fact that they were noticing my state, and it made it even harder to speak, no matter how hard I tried.

I had a dream where the entire school was empty, and I searched every block looking for Erica and Henry. That afternoon when they came, with pineapple juice in their bags, they asked me how I was, like they always did when they came, even though I gave no response. But this time, I answered, “Fine.”

The remaining days of the week passed in a blur, and it felt like everything was different. People spoke slower, calmer. I didn’t know if I had imagined it. Even to me, they were a little less harsh. A few side comments here and there, but not the vitriol I had imagined. Or maybe it was because I expected the worst. It pricked me. It made me feel uncomfortable. I wanted things to go back to normal, like it used to be. It made me feel like a fish on land. It felt all too different that I didn’t know what to do with it.

When I came back to my room, my roommates moved around me like I was a porcelain vase that would break with the slightest touch. The way they avoided me wasn’t the same way they used to. Then, it felt like they avoided me because I had an infectious disease. Now, it felt like I still had the disease, but in a new container.

“Ummm, Alfie, every day since you left, Riley has come here looking for you,” Tobi, my roomie—brown-skinned, sturdy—whispered in my ear. He said it like it would cost his life if someone else should hear him.

I froze. I could literally feel the ice crawling from my feet up to my chest, and the cold shock from my freezing heart caused me to cough. Now I understood why they avoided me like a plague. No one wanted to fall victim to bully by association. That’s why they acted like they couldn’t see me. I looked around me, fearing that Riley would pop out of a corner and ask me to kick the room floor. I was scared of him, so scared that I could hardly breathe. I didn’t know what I did to him, and why he was bent on making my life more hellish than it already was.

I climbed up to my bed, trying to steady my shaky breath. I lay down with my chest facing the roof. I thought about an empty school, but with Erica and Henry. Just the three of us.

******************************************************

“Your grades, Riley—” the principal pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and rested both his hands on the table while tapping intently on a ballpoint pen “—they’re… not the best.” He took a breath and looked at Riley like he was making a hard decision. “If you really want to qualify for the National Championship, you’ll have to do something about it. At least five credits.”

The principal was careful with his words, like he was scared of the young man sitting across from him. Riley flared his nose and gritted his teeth, making veins flare at the sides of his jaw. He looked out the window through his devil-like hooded eyes. The dim light fell on the ring on his lip. He sat opposite the principal, separated by a wooden desk. Even though the chair was the same size, it seemed too small on Riley because of his height and athletic build.

He didn’t look like he was going to say anything. He just waited for a verdict to be made. So the principal continued, “Studies show that peer tutors are more effective in learning, as compared to traditional tutors.”

He said it in a rushed and soft tone, like he was hoping for Riley to agree with him. “We spoke to your father about it, Mr. Beaumont. He approved our suggestion and proposed to pay for the best peer tutors from England or Australia, but we differed. We suggested using some of our brightest students, who are already accustomed to our school culture.” He paused. “But we can change that if you have a—”

“—Carry on.” Riley’s clipped words cut him off.

The principal slid a book that looked like a magazine toward Riley. “Those students are the school’s brightest. All you have to do is pick any of them you’d like to tutor you.”

Riley scanned through the pages. Different faces of students, many of them in huge glasses. And then his eyes stopped. A blonde boy with gentle blue eyes. Alfie Sinclair. He pointed at the page to the principal.

“Him.”