Keep Fighting - Tracci Fisher (great books of all time txt) 📗

The one thing I hated about my seat by the door in most of my classes was having to see the continuous bullying in the halls. Sure, the teachers say that they know about all the abuse at the school, but then how come they can't seem to see the beatings that occur right in front of their classroom doors? It was like they were blind to what was right in front of their faces. I pointed out the bullying to my teachers, but before they could open the door, the bully was already gone and the victim was left leaning against the wall for support trying to gather their books and wiping blood from their nose or lip.

The teacher would call from the hall for me to help and I would end up taking the poor kid to the nurse's office for some ice. "Why don't you say something to a teacher?" I would always ask them. Some of them would just look at me and look back down. Most just replied with the same sentence. "I've tried, but it doesn't help." Then they would look down and whisper “you wouldn't understand." But I did understand; I understood more than they thought I did.

When I entered my freshman year of high school, I was the weak, lanky kid that sat in the back of the room and kept straight As through the year. I didn't talk much, and it seemed like that was what made me a target. My tormentor was a broad shouldered jock with a short temper. He thought it was funny to tease me until I screamed in his face or use me as a practice dummy for boxing. I told the principal about him, and the principal suspended him for as long as he could, which was only a few days. When he came back, he got harder on me and ended up breaking my arm after pushing me down a flight of stairs during passing period. After that, I just decided to ignore him, and after a few more black eyes and bloody noses, he finally got bored and left me alone. Now that I stood as a bystander, it was much harder because I already knew what was going through the victim's mind after the first punch. It was the thought of how much longer can I take this before I break?

Some are strong, but others just don't know how to live with the abuse. It was only November and the number of suicide attempts was high but only one was successful, but even that was too much. And as I sat there watching beating number two of that day out the window by the class door, my mind wandered off from the teacher's lecture and I thought about something that had never come to mind before. Why did I just sit here? Why didn't I stop this myself? Sure, one person can't stop a problem that's present all around the world, but maybe I can start something and maybe others will follow. It only takes one little detail to change the world; maybe I can be that detail.

I looked back out the window; the beating was still in effect. I stood up. The old wooden chair creaked as I pushed it back, catching the attention of my peers and teacher. My teacher paused in her lesson and looked at me; I was too busy looking out the window. "Alex, what's wrong?" I looked at her and then looked back at the window. The tormentor was gone, but the victim was still there. "There's another one." She looked out the window and put her hand over her mouth to cover her shocked gasp. She ran to the door and opened it swiftly. It hit the wall with an echoing slam. I waited in the doorway counting down the seconds until I would have to take the kid to the nurse. Four... three... two... one. And just like clockwork she turned to me. She opened her mouth to ask, but I beat her to it. "I'll take him to the nurse." She closed her mouth and nodded, helping the boy to his feet. "Come on," I said, putting his arm around my shoulder. I helped him down the hall to the nurse's office.

This kid was new; I hadn't seen him before. He was only freshman from what I could tell by his height and face. He kept looking up at me while we walked, then he finally talked. "Thanks for the help, it's nice to know that not everybody here is going to try and kill me." He tried to let out a small, comedic chuckle but then he winced in regret.

"No problem. You're new here aren't you?"

He nodded. "I just moved here from out of the state. I had to move because my parents were tired of me constantly coming home with a split lip or bruises. Now I think about it, it wouldn't have mattered either way."

I frowned. "Well you don't have to think of it that way. You just need to try and find a way around all the bullies. Try and find ways to avoid them altogether, that's what I did."

He looked up at me. "And it worked?"

"Eventually. It might take a while before they start getting bored, but it worked for me.

He nodded. "Well I can try."

We stood in the nurse's office while she was taking care of a student with an upset stomach. The boy turned to me. "My name's Michael by the way." He put his hand out.

I shook his hand. "Alex."

He smiled as much as he could with his split lip. "It was nice meeting you Alex. And thanks for the advice. I just hope I didn't cause you any trouble."

"It was no trouble at all, and if you ever need any help or just want to talk, you can find me in the back of the library." He nodded.

I walked back to class after the nurse helped him over to a cot and called his dad. My teacher thanked me when I entered the room; I just nodded in reply. Sitting back down, it seemed as if the scribbled faces on my notes were trying to tell me something. As if they were whispering silent messages to me. "How does it feel?" They asked. "How does it feel to help out all those like you?" I replied to their questions. "It feels pretty good." It was as if I wanted to do it again, more than I normally do. As if I wanted to find myself back in the hands of my enemies in order to save dozens of others that were on the brink of just giving up. I smiled.

The bell rang. Throwing my torn notebook and pens into my backpack and pushing in my right earbud, I stood up from my desk and pushed in my chair. I was just about to walk through the door when my teacher called to me.

"Alex, can I talk to you for a minute?"

I didn't care if I was late to lunch, so I nodded and walked over to her. She looked like something was troubling her.

"I've noticed that lately you haven't been focusing on your work, and you haven't taken many notes. Is something wrong?"

She was one of those teachers that could tell when you were lying, but still hated to hear bad news. I might as well just tell her what was on my mind.

"I just don't understand."

She tilted her head to the side. "What don't you understand Alex?"

I looked out into the hallway and saw a janitor washing a spot of blood off the wall. That set me off. My hands turned into tight fists. I just wanted to scream. How could it not be obvious?! I mean, every day I spend at the least eight minutes in this class alone just helping some poor kid to the nurses office. The nurses don't even ask for my name anymore. Am I just invisible in your class until some kid gets his lights punched out?

I wanted to say so much to her, but I had to control myself. Deep breaths; in and out. I unclenched my hands and looked back at her.

"It's just that- I just don't understand how nobody notices these kids just like that kid Michael going through this shit every day. And it makes me wonder what their parents think when their kid comes home from school all beat up." I said.

I picked up my backpack. "How can they call this a bully-free school?"

The teacher stood there unresponsive like she was still thinking of something to say.

I looked up at the clock. "Can I go now?" I asked.

She looked up from her thoughts. "Oh." She nodded. I walked through the door and down the hall to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria to me was just a sea of faces from the preppy girls and jocks to the geeks and victims. But I didn't sit with any of them; I chose the most solitary seat in the room with the best view of everything. Who needed friends to sit with when the whole cafeteria was like several reality TV shows going on at once. It also proved as a way to look out for trouble with the infamous bullies. I opened my backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag. Inside was a Tupperware container of leftover pasta salad from the night before.

Everything was going by without any problems when the radar went off. I looked up to see Jason, the kid that was beating up Michael last hour. His eyes met mine; those eyes were full of hate. He pointed my way and started towards my table. All eyes were on me. Jason grew closer, and I could tell that this encounter wasn't going to be pleasant in the least.

"You," he shouted, "who the hell do you think you are?!"

I backed into the wall behind me. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He pinned me against the wall and held me up by my collar. "You know damn well what I'm talking about. I saw you helping that loser earlier, and I know that you've been helping out a few other losers lately. Who do you think you are freaking Jesus?!"

I stood my ground. "I was just helping those kids out. They don't deserve to be afraid of going to school every day thinking that they're going to get beat up."

He threw me against the table spilling everything on it. "The hell they don't. They chose to mess with the wrong kid and got what they deserve just like you're gonna get right now." He threw me to the ground and started kicking me. I just laid there because I knew that if I were to swing at him, I would get suspended too. I was fighting the urge to get up and hit him; I just kept telling myself he's not worth it.

I felt the security guard pull Jason off of me. "Knock it off!" He shouted. I had my eyes closed the whole time, and when I opened them up, I saw that I was surrounded by all the faces of the cafeteria.

The security guard put out his hand to help me up. "Are you okay kid?" He asked. On the inside I was saying no. I was covered in bruises, my arm was bleeding, and I allover felt like I had been hit by a bus, but I just tried to fake a smile through the pain and nodded yes.

They guided me limping to the nurse’s office. "You know we're going to have to call your parents right?"

"Yeah, I know." I limped to a cot and waited for the nurse to come over.