13 posts tagged “untitled story”

Two weeks after the violent attack outside of the cafeteria, Shane’s body was showing signs of healing. He still had dozens of bruises up and down both arms, but the color of them had faded from an angry shade of purple to a yellowish brown. The swelling on his face was almost gone and the soreness in his chest was slowly starting to subside. The hardest part was getting used to having his mouth wired shut. This had been required because of the surgery that repaired a broken cheek bone. The doctor didn’t want to take any chances that he would open his mouth up too wide before everything healed properly. He could open just far enough to get a straw in between his teeth and no farther. He was feeling better, but he was pretty sick of being on a liquid diet.

Coach McFadden had been a constant in his life since the day it all happened. He was at the hospital from the time he got there all through the surgery and had visited every day since he went home. Shane enjoyed his visits and had gotten to the point where he looked forward to them. When he heard a light rap on his bedroom door at 4:15 pm, he knew who it was. “Come in coach,” he shouted, the words sounding slightly irregular as they passed through his clenched teeth.

The coach peeked around the door, exposing his trademark mustache and stringy blonde hair. “How are we doing today kid?” he asked as he opened the door and walked in.

“I feel pretty good today coach.”

“That’s a good thing since you’re coming back to school tomorrow. Right?” The coach sat down in a wooden chair by the bed as he waited for Shane to answer.

“Yeah, that’s what they say.”

“You don’t sound too excited about it. You know, Hal isn’t going to be there.”

“I know,” answered Shane, “I’m not worried about school; it’s just that I’m not sure how I feel about all that happened. It’s hard to explain, but part of me is mad at Hal for what he did, but another part of me feels bad for him. Does that make sense?”

“You mean you actually feel sorry for the guy that beat you up?”

“Well… kind of. I remember waking up in the hallway. Everything was spinning and I my head hurt really bad. There was a lot of commotion and I heard all kinds of sounds, but above everything else I heard someone crying like their heart had been ripped out. I’ll never forget the sound of it. When I asked who was crying someone told me that it was Hal. I don’t know what he was crying about and I know it doesn’t make sense, but yes, I feel sorry for him.

Coach McFadden looked at Shane in amazement. “You never stop surprising me. I’ve hated that boy ever since he did this to you and now you’re trying to make me feel bad about it.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad; I just want to know what he was crying about.”

“I think I can help you with that. I happened to be checking my school mailbox today when Craig Flynt was in Mrs. Connor’s office. He was yelling loud enough that it passed through the closed door and I heard Mr. Flynt say that he was going to sue the school for what happened. He said that Hal had been diagnosed with teenage depression and that the school should have recognized it and did something. He screamed about how Mrs. Connors was going to lose her job and the whole school was going to be shut down. He was completely out of control and I thought I was going to have to intervene, but he stormed out of the office and left before I had to."

Shane listened to the coach's story with interest. When he was finished he asked, "Depression? Isn't that just a medical term for being sad? I mean, everybody gets sad at one time or another. You’re saying that he was crying because he was sad?"

The coach shifted in his seat and considered his words thoughtfully, "Not because he was sad, but because he was depressed. Depression is more than just being sad. It's hard for someone who hasn't gone through it to understand, but it runs much deeper than that. It can take your legs right out from under you and then, when you try to get back up it feels like you have a two ton weight on your back. It can destroy your whole life if it isn’t treated. I should know, because I've been there."

Shane could tell that he hit a sensitive issue, "Do a lot of teenagers get it?"

"I know a lot of teenagers who have dealt with depression at one time or another.”

"Is there a cure?"

"There are medicines that can help, but that isn’t the recommended treatment, especially in kids. It takes professional help and a lot of time."

“How long did it take you to get better?"

The coach was slow in answering, "Let's just say that I've been dealing with it for a number of years and leave it at that."

It didn't take much to see that the coach didn't want to talk about it, so Shane steered the conversation to college football. Later on, however, after the coach left, he got on the internet to see if he could find out more. What he found out changed his life forever.

Over the course of the next two months Shane read everything that he could get his hands on about teenage depression. The more he read, the more he realized that he had not only seen the signs of it in Hal, but he could see in other kids at school. He was driven to do something about it and with the help of Mrs. Connors and Coach McFadden, he put together some information to promote teenage depression awareness. His information was handed out at a parent teacher meeting one evening and it was well received by the parents. In fact, word got around and another school in the area asked for the information for their next meeting. Before long, schools from across the county were calling Mrs. Connors to find out where they could get it.

With an obvious need presenting itself, Mrs. Connors asked Shane if he would be interested in started a program to help distribute the information across the country. Shane had no idea how to do what she was asking, but she promised to help him with it. By February, with the help of a lot of people, it had grown into a full-fledged organization called Teen Crossroadz, complete with a charitable organization status and web site. No one had any idea that over the course of time, Teen Crossroadz would become one of the country’s leaders in helping prevent, diagnose and treat teenage depression.

On a cold afternoon in February, six months to the day after being beaten up in the hallway outside the cafeteria, Shane was walking down the sidewalk to his house when he heard a familiar voice call out to him, “What’s up Preacher?” He turned around and saw Hal running toward him.

When Hal was still in juvenile detention, Shane had asked to speak with him. He wanted to tell him that he was forgiven, that he didn’t hold a grudge for what had been done, but Hal had refused to see him. So, Shane wrote letters to him instead. He was faithful in writing every week, but he never received anything back. Now, Hal was running at him and the scene from the hallway flashed in front of him. He closed his eyes, tensed his body and waited for the collision. When it didn’t come, he opened his eyes to find Hal standing only one foot away, staring at him.

“What are you doing?” asked Hal.

They had long been cut away, but to Shane, it felt like the wires were still holding his mouth together. He managed to utter out his answer, his lips and mouth barely moving, “I thought you were about to knock me down again.”

“I don’t want to knock you down, but I do have something for you.” Hal reached inside his coat and Shane flinched, still not sure what was going on. He was surprised to see Hal pull out a small bundle of envelopes. “These are all the letters that you sent me. They were the only letters I got when I was in that place. Did you really mean what you wrote?”

Shane was still confused, “Of course I did.”

“I don’t know why. Listen, I know you weren’t expecting this, but… I want to thank you for the letters. They saved my life. I really mean that, more than you can ever know.” There was a long silence. Hal shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his big body moving back and forth like an oak tree in the wind. Then, he said, “I’m… I’m not sure if you'll believe me, but I'm really sorry for what I did to you.”

The two boys stared at one another, neither one sure what to do next. Finally, Shane looked up at Hal and said, “I believe you.” And as the two boys talked on the sidewalk, a light snow began to fall around them.

After the meeting with Mrs. Connors, Hal’s dad told him to go home and wait for him there. Hal went home and waited, but his dad didn’t show up until after midnight. Hal was in his room playing a video game when he heard the front door open. There were two voices, one of them female, so he knew right away that he had brought home one of his many girlfriends. He picked up his ipod, put the headphones on and turned the volume up loud so he wouldn’t have to hear what was going on.

He got up late the next morning and both his dad and the woman were gone. There was a mess in the kitchen and there were empty beer bottles in the trash can. Hal was used to this; it had been going on for as long as he could remember.

Hal didn’t know his mother. He didn’t know who she was or if she was even alive. He had asked about her numerous times when he was little, but Craig refused to give him any information. Finally, after he was tired of hearing him ask, he blew up at Hal and told him to never ask again. So, he never asked again, but he grew up imagining that she was like all of the other trashy women that his dad brought home and, even though he didn’t know her, he learned to hate her.

The week of suspension went by quickly and Craig Flynt never mentioned the incident in the auditorium. On Monday night, Lucy, the live-in housekeeper/cook had just finished preparing a meal when Craig unexpectedly walked through the front door. For the first time in a long time, father and son sat down to eat together. They ate quietly for a while, neither one extremely interested in the other. After a few minutes, Craig said, “I picked up four new clients today.” Hal kept eating, not even bothering to look up. There was another long period of silence as Craig fidgeted around in his seat. This was harder than he thought. Finally, he said, “Hal, I’m getting married. What do you think about that?”

Hal stopped chewing and slowly looked at his dad, “It’s your life. Do what you want.” Then, he finished his meal in silent protest.

The Rub Club met Monday after school as planned. Even though all of the members were on the wrestling team, three of them also played football, so only Coach Lowry and the four remaining members were present.

After what happened between Hal and Shane the previous Tuesday, everything had gone extremely well. They couldn’t have asked for a better display of how the system was supposed to work. Hal had been caught trying to bully Shane and was immediately suspended for one week. It let everyone know that the school was serious about the bully policy. It had been a nice, quiet week without Hal, but he was scheduled to come back the next day.

Geremy started the meeting, “I think everyone knows that Hal will be back in school tomorrow. I don’t believe he will be dumb enough to start anything, but just in case, we need to keep a close eye on him.”

Hal’s class schedule had been provided by Mrs. Connors and it was shown to the club. They compared it to their own schedules, making sure at least one of them was in the hallway between every class and that someone was in the cafeteria during lunch. When they were done, Coach Lowry reminded them that no physical contact was allowed. “Just make yourself visible,” he said, “that should be all it takes.” Geremy left the meeting with a bad feeling that the coach was wrong.

That night, as the full moon shone brightly on the sleepy town of Crossroads, Hal Flynt lay in bed and thought about how much he hated his dad, hated his mother and hated his life. In a large house on the corner of Broderick and Hazel, Geremy Walker lay in bed and worried what Hal was going to do the next day. And farther up the road, in a modest little home in a quiet suburban neighborhood, Shane McKnight put down his Bible, turned off the light and fell fast asleep.

In almost every way possible, Craig Flynt was a poor excuse for a father. The only thing he was good at was providing money but, unfortunately, he spent so much time at work that it kept him from getting to know his own son. Craig’s entire world revolved around his insurance business and he didn’t let anything stand in the way of making it successful, including family. He was not happy about having to miss his morning staff meeting and he had another appointment with an important client scheduled for 9:30. He let Mrs. Connors know about it as soon as he entered the office, “We need to get this done quickly. I have a very important meeting that I can’t miss.”

Mrs. Connors watched the man sit down with Hal. They were about the same size, only Craig was slightly larger. He was dressed in a nice suit and his hair was cut extremely close, almost to the skin. Before she had a chance to speak, he was barking out an order “Let’s get this show on the road, I’ve got other places to be!”

“Like father, like son,” she thought to herself. She wasn’t about to be pushed around in her own office. She purposefully waited a few seconds and then spoke directly to Craig, “Mr. Flynt, I called you in to let you know that Hal has been suspended for one week, effective immediately.”

He questioned her, as if he couldn’t believe it, “Why? What did he do?” Surprisingly, he sat there and listened as Mrs. Connors explained all that had happened. When she finished, he looked her in the eye and said, “What are you doing about the other kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he must have done something to provoke Hal. That kid needs to be suspended too!”

Mrs. Connors glanced at Hal and noticed that he was grinning widely. “Mr. Flynt, your son tried to force that boy to do his work and when he refused, he tried to hit him. Why should I suspend the other boy? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you sure about that?”

The man’s arrogance was irritating. She had seen parents like this before. They always came in defending their own children, blaming someone else for their bad behavior. She knew from experience that continuing the conversation was useless and she also knew the only way to handle people like Craig Flynt was to stand her ground, “Mr. Flynt, whether you choose to believe your son did anything wrong or not is beside the point. The fact is that I have eight other students who watched all this happen. The fact is that your son violated our zero tolerance bully policy and the fact is that if he does it again I will kick him out of my school for the rest of the year. Do I make myself clear?”

Craig Flynt sat back and smiled. He liked this woman. She wasn’t easily pushed around. She was older than him, maybe in her mid forties, but fairly attractive. He couldn’t see her body, but his mind started racing as he wondered what she looked like behind the big, oak desk.

His little daydream was interrupted by Mrs. Connors voice, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Huh? Oh… yeah. Very clear. Is that it then? Are we finished?”

“That’s all I have Mr. Flynt.”

He stood up and Hal stood up with him, “Great! Then we will be going… and you can call me Craig.” He extended his right hand, far enough away where she would have to stand up to take it.

She stood up and noticed his eyes move up and down her body, so she shook his hand quickly and sat back down. Disgusted, but totally professional, she said, “Thanks for coming in Mr. Flynt.”

“Craig,” he said with a cocky grin, and then he turned to walk away with Hal right on his heels. As they passed through the doorway, she heard Hal ask, “Can I still drive the Mustang?"

The man’s feeble attempt at humor reminded Shane of his own dad and some of the dumb things that he always said. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew sitting there feeling sorry for himself wasn’t the way to deal with it. “Alright,” he said, “Give me a minute.” He stood up, wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve and then opened the stall door. There, standing right in front of the door, with his straight yellow hair and Fu man Chu mustache, was Coach McFadden. He was the last person Shane expected to see.

The coach smiled at the startled look on the boy’s face and said, “A lot of people react that way when they see me.”

Shane realized that he was standing there with his mouth open and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” The coach leaned over and winked, “Besides, I like having that effect on people.” His gentle voice and caring attitude was comforting, despite the man’s overpowering presence. “I don’t have a class this period,” the coach explained, “So we can go to my office and talk this out.” Shane nodded his head and they started in that direction. As they were walking, the coach noticed the bible that Shane was carrying in his hand.

When they reached the tiny office, the coach pulled two chairs together so they were facing one another, sat down and pointed for Shane to have a seat in front of him. Shane sat down and the coach began to speak, “Did you know that you were a hero?”

Not quite sure he heard right, Shane answered back, “What?”

“All of the kids in the hallway were talking about how you stood up to Hal. You made quite an impression. He is over twice your size. I’d have to say it impresses me too. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Still a little stunned from the coach’s revelation that he was a hero, he told him how Hal had pushed him around since sixth grade. There was a lot of pain in his description of the previous three years and Coach McFadden could tell that it had been a traumatic time for him. The coach interjected, “But you told him that you wouldn’t help him this year?”

“Yes. I told him that it wouldn’t be right.”

“And that’s when he tried to hit you?”

“Yeah, but he hit the bible instead and it flew up in his face.” For the first time, a tiny smile spread across Shane’s lips.

The coach saw the smile and said, “I bet that was funny to watch.”

“It’s funny now, but I was scared when it happened. I thought he was going to go crazy on me.”

The coach went on with his questioning, “So tell me, how come you decided to stand up to him now? Could it, by any chance, have something to do with this bible that you’re carrying around?”

Shane wasn’t sure if the coach was being serious or if he was making fun. He had only been a Christian since the beginning of summer, but it didn’t take long to find out that not everyone appreciated the Holy Bible. Some of his own friends started making fun of him when he told them that he was reading it. It was hard being ridiculed by his friends, but the more he read, the more he realized that it was bound to happen. So, instead of being upset at his friends, he started praying for them. Slowly, they started coming around to his way of thinking and two of them actually started going to church with him.

He read the bible every day and started applying it to his life. He had always known that it was wrong to cheat and help Hal with his grades, but his fear of getting beat up always outweighed his desire to do the right thing. Now, things were different. Earlier in the morning, when Hal was trying to force him to do the work, Shane had a pivotal moment. He knew right then that he had to take a stand and the only way to do it was say no and face Hal’s wrath. So that was what he did.

“Are you alright Shane?” asked the coach.

Shane shook his head, unaware that he had been sitting there blankly. He thought about the coach’s question and answered him honestly, “It has every thing to do with it.”

“What? I’m a little confused? What has everything to do with it?”

“The bible. That’s the whole reason that I stood up to Hal.”

Shane waited for the remark that was bound to come. He had already heard a number of them in the last few months and was learning to expect them. Coach McFadden stood up slowly and went to his desk. He rifled around a few minutes and then finally came back carrying an 8X10 frame. He sat back down across from Shane and started speaking, “I used to keep this hanging on my wall all the time. A good friend gave it to me just after I graduated college. I don’t know why I never put it up when I got the position at this school. Maybe the words didn’t mean that much to me. But I can tell you this, thanks to you, they mean a lot today.” He looked at the frame and read the words out loud, “For bodily exercise profiteth little; but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come. 1 Timothy 4:8”

The coach went on, “Young man, what you did today was commendable. You stood up for something that you believe in and you were willing to take the consequences for it. I wish I could say I that always did the same thing.”

Shane was shocked. He expected a lecture, not a confessional. They talked for nearly thirty minutes about spiritual matters and Shane left the coach’s office feeling pretty good about all that had happened. The coach called the office to let them know he found Shane and Mrs. Connors told him to send Shane down. When he got there, he saw Hal and his dad walking into Mrs. Connor’s office.

Mrs. Sosa and Hal were sitting in the principal’s office when Mrs. Connors finally got there. She knew it was wise to have two adults present, so she directed Mrs. Sosa to stay while she questioned Hal. She sat down behind her desk and got right to the point, “So, would you like to tell me your side of the story?” Hal just sat there with his arms crossed, looking off toward the office window. She waited a few seconds and then repeated the question again, “I said, would you like to tell me your side of the story?”

Nonchalantly, Hal uncrossed his arms and then looked slowly toward Mrs. Connors. His head was enormous and she noticed that his small, black eyes seemed to get lost in the expanse of pallid, white skin that was stretched across his face. He answered her in a lazy tone of voice, as if the line of questioning were boring him to death, “Ain’t nothin’ to tell. I didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

Hal was making this too easy. She had only been with him for a matter of minutes and he had only spoken nine words, but it was enough to let her know that he couldn’t be trusted. He was obviously lying because immediately after Mrs. Sosa marched Hal out of the auditorium, at least eight students ran up to various teachers and told them what happened. She took so long to get to her office because she had talked to every student personally. They all had the same story, except for a few minor details.

Mrs. Connors gave Hal one more chance, “Listen Hal. I have personally talked to at least eight students who told me that you were trying to force Shane to do your school work and almost all of them claimed that you tried to hit him when he said no. What makes it worse is that you did it while listening to me explain that this type of behavior is not acceptable. Now, unless you can convince me that it didn’t happen, I will have no choice but to follow the guidelines that were just explained to you in the auditorium. Now, for the third and final time, would you like to tell me your side of the story?”

Hal yawned widely, pulling a clenched fist up to his mouth, clearly displaying that he wasn’t remotely interested in what Mrs. Connors had to say. He spoke in the same lazy tone he used before, “I already told you. I didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

Mrs. Connors pursed her lips tightly together and slowly stretched her head upwards as a stress knot found its home on the back of her neck. As a former English teacher, the way Hal abused the English language almost made what she was about to do satisfying. She took a deep breath and looked Hal right in the eyes, “Then I guess you will be the first student in the school’s history to get suspended for doing nothing wrong. I want you to step out into the lobby and have a seat. Your father should be here soon and we will discuss all of this with him.”

The thought of his father getting involved made Hal a little uneasy, but not because he was afraid he would get into trouble. He knew his dad would take his side; he always did. What mattered most to Hal was losing the car. Hal made his way out to the lobby, sat down in one of the uncomfortable metal chairs and waited for his father to arrive.

The laughter came to a sudden halt when Hal jumped out of his seat and turned around. He looked like a storybook ogre as he stood there, hunched over and panting, staring at the terrified kids with his good eye. He placed his hands on the back of the seat and leaned forward. The three boys who had been sitting behind him leaned back as far as they could as Hal growled at them, “What’s so funny?”

Before he could say anything else he heard, “Leave them alone!”

Surprisingly, he recognized it as Shane’s voice.  He turned back around to find Shane picking the book up off the floor, “Give me that,” he said, snatching it out of his hands. “What is it anyway?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned it over and angrily read the title out loud, “The Holy Bible?”

Just then, a loud voice crackled over the sound system, “Everyone find a seat, we need to get started.”

Hal sat back down and threw the book into Shane’s lap, wiping his hands on his shirt as if he had just handled something dirty, “You gone religious on me Nerd?”

Shane continued to ignore him. Hal positioned his mouth next to Shane’s ear one more time and whispered, “You can’t ignore me forever.”

Hal had more to say to Shane. He didn’t care for the fact that he refused to do his homework and he especially didn’t like the way he was suddenly speaking up for himself. He straightened up in his seat and started to say something else, but a movement on the stage caught his attention. He looked over and saw a line of students walking out from behind the stage curtain and there, right at the front of the line, was Muscle Boy.

Hal recognized his massive body from the day before and an immediate hatred welled up inside of his chest. The fact that Geremy was standing on the stage was enough to hold Hal’s attention and he temporarily forgot all about Shane as the principal explained the bully policy to the freshman class. When she was finished, she introduced each member of the staff and then each member of the Rub Club individually. This allowed every student the opportunity to see who they should go to if they had problems. Hal rolled his eyes and laugh quietly to himself when it was all over. He wasn’t about to let something as silly sounding as the “Rub Club” stand in his way.

They were dismissed back to class and Shane went to stand up. As he did, Hal grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back down in his seat. “Listen, Nerd, you’re going to help me make good grades or I’ll make your life miserable for the entire school year.”

For the first time, Shane found the nerve to look Hal in the face. He was trembling now and his eyes were still blinking uncontrollably, but he stared right at him and said, “I don’t like to be called Nerd.”

Hal’s face seemed to change color as a flash of anger swept across it. Then, he started laughing. It wasn’t because anything was funny; rather, he simply didn’t know what to say. He just wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him, especially a skinny, freckle-faced kid that was half his size. Finally, in an attempt to remain in control he thought about the incident with the bible and said, “All right then, I won’t call you Nerd anymore. I’ll call you Preacher.”

Shane answered back, “That’s better,” and then started to get up again.

Hal went to pull him back down when someone shouted, “That’s enough!” He looked up and saw Mrs. Sosa standing at the end of the seat row.

Right after the morning announcements on the second day of school, the entire freshman class was sent to the auditorium. As they filed in and started looking for seats, Hal saw Shane McKnight on the other side of the large room and recognized that now would be the perfect time to set up homework plans for the year. When he got to where Shane was sitting, another boy was in the seat beside him, so Hal shook his shoulder violently and told him to move. The boy turned around quickly, ready to say something, but when he saw Hal, his eyes got big and he jumped out of the chair as if he had just sat down on a sharp tack. Hal laughed at the boy’s animated movements, pushed him out of the way and then sat down. Shane looked up at Hal and groaned silently.

He greeted Shane the same way he had done for the past three years, “What’s up Nerd?”

Shane stared ahead and tried to ignore him, but Hal kept right on talking, “Listen, I got a new car and the only way I can keep it is if I make good grades. So, guess what? You’re going to help!”

Shane swallowed hard and continued to look straight ahead. He gathered up his courage and replied softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, “I… I can’t do your homework this year Hal. It wouldn’t be right.”

Hal blinked in surprise. Shane had never refused before. He looked at him with a quizzical look and moved closer to him, putting his mouth up close to his right ear, “What did you say?”

Shane started blinking uncontrollably, a nervous habit that always took over when he was in a stressful situation. His face flushed hot and he felt the sweat break out on his upper lip. Still unable to look at Hal, he once again spoke in a shaking voice, “I said I can’t do your homework this year.”

When Hal didn’t get what he wanted, he usually resorted to violence. He lifted his left hand and brought it down hard, aiming for Shane’s leg, but instead of hitting his leg, he hit the corner of a book that was in his lap instead. The book flew up and somersaulted right into Hal’s face, striking him on the forehead. Hal was caught off guard and brought both of his hands up to his face quickly. When he did, he jabbed himself in the eye with his left thumb. Hal felt a sudden pain in his eyeball, saw a short burst of white light, and then heard a small chorus of laughter from the row behind him. It didn’t take long to realize that he was the one being laughed at…and he didn’t like it.

Starting the Rub Club was actually Jason’s idea. After hearing all of the details of what his little brother had been going through, he felt ashamed that he had simply chosen to ignore it. He swore that it would never happen again and vowed to start a club whose sole purpose was to rid the school of bullies. So, the next day he presented his idea to the wrestling coach, Jim Lowry. Coach Lowry was receptive, but hesitant, due to the fact that the very nature of the club seemed to indicate that violence was going to be involved. He told Jason that he would run it past the school principal, Mrs. Connors. After much deliberation, Mrs. Connors said that she would only sanction it if it was monitored closely by Coach Lowry. The coach and Jason both agreed to work together, and the club began to take shape, with all of the members being part of the wrestling team.

Now, four years later, the club was going strong. When Jason graduated, Geremy was elected president and held the position ever since. Much had been learned about the nature of bullies and how to deal with them. Coach Lowry and Mrs. Connors were happy to see that  the reportable incidents of bullying plummeted to the point of being nonexistent. It was a great success.

Although membership was open to anyone, the majority of members continued to be students who participated in wrestling. For some reason this arrangement just seemed to fit into place. All of the Rub Club members wore a leather bracelet with three colored beads attached to it. There was a single white bead with the letter B on it representing a bully. On each side of the white bead, rubbing up against it, were two shiny, black beads. These two beads were meant to represent the fact that the bully was being “rubbed out”. This is where the club got its name from and the bracelets served as visual indicators for the other students of just who was in the club. Anyone who felt harassed by another student was encouraged to report the incident to a teacher or member of the staff. In addition, they also had the option of reporting it to one of the Rub Club members who would then take the report to the appropriate school authority.  Club members never acted without an adult, usually Coach Lowry, knowing about it and they were not allowed to get into physical altercations.

Education is the key to success and the staff at Crossroads High School worked diligently to teach the students about the dangers of bullying. Students were told about it during freshman orientation and every new student, no matter what grade, was given the same information. They were highly encouraged to report all incidents and told exactly how to do it. A zero tolerance policy was set up and anyone caught bullying would be suspended for one week. If it happened again, they would not be allowed back. The lines were clearly drawn and had rarely been challenged, but that was about to change. 

The Rub Club met after school that day in Coach Lowry’s History classroom. There were seven boys present, all of them members of the varsity wrestling team. Geremy Walker, president of the club, called the meeting to order and then got down to business, “I met with Hal today, but he didn’t really want to listen to what I had to say. I believe he is going to be a problem.”

For the next few minutes they talked about Hal and the best way to deal with him. It was decided to monitor him closely for the rest of the week and then meet again the following Monday. With no more business to discuss, the meeting was adjourned and the boys went their separate ways.

The Rub Club got its start four years earlier. At that time Geremy Walker was a freshman and his older brother, Jason, was a junior. Shortly after the school year began, a new boy named Chance started the ninth grade. It was obvious from the beginning that he was going to push the other kids around. For reasons only known to him, Chance made Geremy his primary target. Over the course of three months Geremy was punched, stabbed in the arm with a ball point pen, slapped with a leather belt across the back and pushed too many times to count. Other kids saw the abuse, but never stepped in to help.

Back then, Geremy was suffering from a serious lack of self-confidence. He was very smart, but shy, and somewhat distant from the other kids. He never spoke up in class and was actually scared to talk to adults. Even after the abuse continued, he refused to speak to his parents or any of his teachers about it. Every student in school knew what was going on, even Jason, but Geremy’s older brother chose to ignore the problem just like the rest of the school did.

One Thursday afternoon, toward the middle of the school year, Geremy was sitting on the bench in the locker room putting his shoes on when Chance snuck up behind him. In his hand was a pair of dirty, white, boy’s briefs that he had found on the floor. He stood behind Geremy for a second or two, smiling widely, and then stretched the elastic band and pulled the underwear down over Geremy’s head. Surprised, Geremy immediately jumped up, but Chance held on and twisted the band tightly around his neck. Geremy continued to struggle, but Chance refused to let go. A crowd quickly grew and the other boys laughed as Chance forced Geremy to walk, parading him around the locker room like a dog on a leash.

As Geremy was being lead around something inside of him started to burn. Maybe it was from embarrassment or maybe it was from constantly holding in his feelings. Whatever the reason, Geremy Walker was suddenly filled with a rage that started deep within and quickly consumed his entire body. With strength that he didn't even know he had, he jerked himself away from Chance and ripped the underwear off of his head. Unsure of what was happening, Chance stood there dazed. Unafraid for the first time, Geremy took advantage of the moment and charged at him. His shoulder landed squarely in the boy’s stomach and sent him flying back into a row of metal lockers. Chance hit the lockers with his back and then fell forward hard and fast, smacking his forehead squarely on the flat surface of the wooden bench. His head looked like a giant rubber ball as it bounced up off of the bench once and then slapped back down on it.
 
As quickly as it started it was over. Geremy stood there, underwear in hand, looking down at Chance. His body was crumpled up to the side of the seat and his head was still resting on the bench, arms hanging straight down. He looked as if he were taking a much needed nap. The other boys who had been cheering and laughing so loudly before were now completely silent. Geremy was shaking from all of the adrenaline still pumping through his body and he could actually hear the blood as it coursed through his bloodstream. Finally, Chance started to stir at his feet. He slowly lifted his head, revealing a giant, red, swelling knot. With much effort, he managed to get up and stumble past Geremy out of the locker room. That was the last time he ever tried to harass Geremy, or any other student.