When the bully falls in love

 

The bell rang, and I stood up from my lonely, happy spot in the field to return to class. 

When I say I hate school, I mean Vince and his friends. They were my nightmares straight from hell. Because of them, I was already fancying the idea of running away from school and starting off in some lonely cottage in the middle of the forest. 

Well, speak of the devil. I noticed when it was too late. His foot on the pavement with his friends holding out cameras. 

As expected, I stumbled on his leg and fell face down with my stomach making me spill some milk from my tea break. 

"Look at that. I told you she drinks three cups of milk at the canteen every day, " Vince said as he burst into peals of laughter. 

" Well, Fatrez, it's a crime to eat like a mechanic, " another boy shouted from the crowd. My name is Perez, but the bullies call me Fatrez because I'm fat. 

They made sarcastic comments as I slowly got up and stared at them with flashed eyes. 

I let the first drop of tear fall before stopping the next and running off towards my Maths class. 

Of course, I was late again with my clothes full of dirt. My mouth tasted bitter, with the smell of sour milk haunting it. 

"Well, look who is late again, " the Maths teacher announced as I stood at the door.

"Mr. Thomas, I can... "

 

" It looks like the school is feeding you guys too much, " he said, referring to the drops of milk on my chin that I didn't wipe after falling down.

"Well, here is the marker. Please teach the class how to do that math from the previous lesson. "He continued handing me the marker pen. 

I took it, my hand trembling before my eyes bulged. I've never seen such math in my whole life. I scribbled small figures on the board before he asked me to step aside. 

As he tried to read my writings, I noticed students in class staring at their phones. My video was out, and thanks to Vince and his friends, I was famous once again. 

"Well, Perez, it seems you have to do eight squats before we continue with our lesson. "he remarked as the whole class erupted into laughter. 

Everyone knew I was fat; I couldn't jump, let alone do a squat. I turned around to face the board before trying to go down. My arms were too short and full of fat. I couldn't touch the back of my head. 

Mr Thomas just stood there, staring in amusement as he followed the events happily. 

God! How much I wanted to die, evaporate or disappear. 

I tried doing the third squat before standing up angrily and moving toward my seat. 

"Perez, " the Maths teacher called. " We are not done. I am sure you don't want to go to detention. "

I sat down and looked up, refusing to give Mr Thomas the satisfaction of seeing me suffer. He could kill me if he wanted to. All my classmates hated me, my parents didn't like me, and my grades were the worst; he didn't scare me, even hell didn't. 

 

I was labelled dumb in a politically correct manner. 

He must have given up because he chooses to continue with his lesson. Our class was funny. The seating arrangement was according to your performance. The brightest kids sat in front, and the order continued with the dumbest kids at the back. 

We all know my position. I'm occupying the last desk, which means I came last in class with my deskmate, darling Fred who came second from the bottom.

The seats in front were occupied by Fiona and Paul. We were one Happy family at the back here except when they joined the bullies. Fiona was petite and tall with blond hair that fell in soft layers like it was tailored from gold fabric. Except she was dumb like me. Whoever said beauty with brains was wrong; she was no different.

Paul was short and strong with dirty blonde hair. He seemed to be going through a lot, maybe a drunken father and depressed mum. Whatever it was always got him silent and thinking.

" I'll be going around to check the answers in your books," came the teacher's Voice. I looked up to see him drawing some long division on the board before he looked straight at me. Why did everything he did in class seem targeted at me?

I wrote the sum down as I started chewing my pen. I couldn't do it even if I tried. I gazed at the math from all angles, and nothing came to my mind. Fred was busy writing with a smile.

He looked sideways before covering his work. A few filthy curses escaped my mouth as I focused on my work. Why was he so mean?

" Please, just put your hand down. When the teacher comes, he's going to look at my work," I whispered to Fred, almost trembling, begging. 

His actions were calculated. Fred knew I couldn't do any Math and wanted the teacher to come and make fun of me after marking his book so the whole class could laugh. 

Tears came from nowhere and started filling my eyes as Fred tried to suppress giggles. I wasn't going to cry, I promised myself. Mr Thomas was now halfway to our desk. He knew he wasn't there for Fred's work but mine. 

I covered my face with my hands as I pushed my annoying pigtails back. I swear today is my last day in school; after this lesson, I'll just kill myself so all the bullies can drown in guilt and die. 

"That's not the answer. You never pay attention in my class, do you? "

"But sir, "

"Just redo the math. If you carry one and add it to seven, the answer is eight, not seven, "

"Okay, "

"Perez, let's see what you've got, " the big moment was here. No one would miss this, even for an Oscar.

I wasn't frightened nor afraid of what he would do if he noticed I hadn't completed the sum.

What I felt was beyond such mere nouns. I didn't care. There was nothing in me; I wasn't coming back to school tomorrow. He could kill me if he wanted because I would do it anyway. 

I looked up and noticed him looking at my book without a subtle wink. The class was quiet and anxious, waiting for him to tell me to stand up, go to the board, jump five times, or get detention. 

I stared at my work with my new I don't care attitude. The sum was neatly done, and the answer was correct. 

How? 

Did the angels come down to my rescue? 

Clearly, Even Mr Thomas didn't believe in miracles.