The commencement of my academic day was marked by the striking of the clock at half past seven. I found myself ensconced in the rear of the classroom, a window serving as my solitary companion. This location was a deliberate choice, a strategic move to eschew any unnecessary social interactions. The day's first lesson was Social Studies, presided over by our instructor, Ma'am Lavi.
As part of the day's agenda, each student was requested to rise from their seats and offer a brief introduction. The responses varied, with some adhering to the decorum, while others exhibited a lack of respect or an air of arrogance. I quickly identified those I wished to avoid, having no desire to be subjected to bullying once again.
"Mr. Mavely. Please stand up," Ma'am Lavi's voice echoed through the room, calling my name.
I offered her a fleeting glance before averting my gaze. The prospect of introducing myself was not one I was willing to entertain. I had managed to avoid this ritual at my previous school, and I had no intention of breaking that streak, especially not in a foreign land. My refusal to comply was met with a wave of confusion from my teacher, while my classmates began to whisper, their words laced with judgment about my appearance and attire.
"Mr. Mavely. It is mandatory for students to introduce themselves to the class on the first day of school," Ma'am Lavi's voice held a note of sternness. "If you don't stand up, I will have to deduct your points."
"Deduct all you want. Just leave me alone," I retorted, my words causing a ripple of shock to spread through the classroom. "I came here for attendance, not this."
Ma'am Lavi sighed, "I can see why Principal Jakeson warned me about you. You have been irresponsible since your previous schools in Ireland. He said that you are suffering from personal issues. Do you need some assistance, Mr. Mavely?"
"I don't need assistance from anyone, especially when they turn out to be scums of the Earth," I responded, my words further shocking my classmates.
Ma'am Lavi made a note on her clipboard, "Fine, you will lose points for refusing to cooperate."
While I was relieved that I didn't have to introduce myself, I now found myself the center of attention. My classmates, including Priscilla, regarded me with curiosity, whispering amongst themselves. Their conversations, filled with mockery of my Irish accent, reached my ears, but I remained indifferent.
My intention was not to draw attention, but to be left in solitude. I rested my head on the table, tuning out the ongoing lesson. Priscilla found herself intrigued by my behavior, wondering about the reasons behind it.
Meanwhile, a group of boys observed me from a distance, a shared understanding passing between them. They had found their new target. The thrill of having a new victim, especially a foreigner, was palpable. They relished the prospect of the fun that lay ahead.
The remainder of my day was spent navigating through the labyrinth of classrooms, each subject taught by a different teacher. The experience was exhausting, the dilapidated hallways and the pervasive stench of mold and decay adding to the discomfort.
My interest in the day's lessons was non-existent, my gaze often drifting towards the blank wall or the window. This lack of engagement irked some of my classmates, but it was a sight they had grown accustomed to.
"Mr. Mavely! Solve for x in the following equation: 2x − 3= 5!" The stern voice of our mathematics teacher echoed through the room, demanding my participation in solving a mathematical problem.
"...whatever," I muttered under my breath, displaying a clear lack of interest in his query. Why should I respond when I had no desire to do so?
My blatant disregard for his authority was met with a glare from the mathematics teacher. However, this was a reaction I had elicited from all my teachers, so I failed to understand why he considered himself an exception. Could they not comprehend my desire for solitude? I yearned for rest, having been deprived of sleep the previous night due to a haunting dream.
Why couldn't they grasp the hint? They were not blind, were they? My life was already a maze of confusion; I did not need further complications.
When lunchtime arrived, I found myself isolated at my table, my peers maintaining a safe distance. I had anticipated this reaction, understanding that my demeanor had created a barrier between us. Yet, the sting of rejection was palpable. Even Priscilla seemed to be avoiding me. Perhaps my personality, or lack thereof, was not to her liking.
To them, my depression might have been dismissed as an "emo" phase, a trend they considered passé. However, my emotional state was not a choice. My school years had been marred by bullying and abuse. I did not expect them to comprehend my feelings. Even my parents often failed to understand.
My gaze then fell upon a table occupied by a group of intimidating boys, the kind I typically avoided. 'Are they looking at me?'
Their eyes were fixed in my direction, their faces wearing a malicious grin. A shiver ran down my spine at the sight, and a throbbing pain began to pulsate in my head. I recognized those expressions. They were all too familiar. Those were the eyes of a predator that had spotted its prey. Once again, I was the target. My suffering was destined to intensify in this school.
A wave of frustration washed over me, my hands clenching in response. 'Damn my life! Damn this society!'
———
As the day's final bell reverberated through the classroom, signaling the conclusion of the academic sessions, my peers hastily collected their belongings and exited the room. Their chatter was filled with the thrill of the impending afternoon's plans. I, however, remained anchored to my seat, my gaze lost in the world beyond the window.
I was painfully aware of the attention I had garnered from a particular group. A sense of helplessness washed over me, a feeling reminiscent of my past experiences in Ireland. My only recourse was to steel myself for the inevitable onslaught, endure the impending humiliation, and hope for a swift resolution.
My introspection was interrupted by a voice dripping with sarcasm and arrogance. A blonde-haired individual, whose face seemed to be begging for a punch, stood before me. "Oh? So you're still here? You're not going home yet?" he taunted, his tone growing increasingly monotonous with each encounter. "Is there a problem?"
Five figures cast ominous shadows in the doorway, their presence forming an impenetrable barrier, effectively blocking any potential escape routes. The entrance door was tantalizingly out of reach, and they had strategically positioned themselves to corner me. Their intentions were crystal clear - they aimed to ensnare me like a cornered rodent. I wished I had the energy to flee, but I knew it was a futile endeavor. I lacked athletic prowess, and I was always inevitably caught.
"Yeah, maybe you could join us for a drink," suggested a rotund individual, his proposition a thinly veiled invitation to take the confrontation outside. Did he genuinely believe I was gullible enough to fall for that?
A woman with a tomboyish demeanor and an athletic build chimed in, her expression radiating arrogance. "It must be tough for a foreigner to fit in with us. How about we get to know each other and we'll become your first friends?" she proposed. I had encountered individuals like her before. Her seemingly friendly demeanor was not going to fool me.
I let out a sigh of annoyance before standing up and raising my middle finger at them. "You think I'm stupid to not know what you're trying to do? This isn't my first time getting beat up by scums like you," I retorted.
Their faces twisted with irritation, especially the leader's. I could see the veins in his forehead bulging, a clear indication of his rising anger. I assumed that no one had ever dared to talk back to them due to their intimidating status.
But now, a foreign boy from nowhere had insulted them without showing any signs of remorse. Why should I apologize to egoists who had nothing better to do with their lives?
"You bastard! You dare insult the Boxin' Gang!? Now you're a dead meat rather than a fresh one!?" threatened a skinny, eccentric-looking individual. Despite his threats, I felt confident that I could take him down with a single punch. Was he under the influence of drugs?
An intimidating, muscular man began to crack his knuckles. "He seems to be arrogant for a prey," he commented. Despite his terrifying appearance, I couldn't help but find his middle-aged demeanor amusing. "Shall I teach him a lesson, Jason?"
Jason, the smug blonde-haired individual, laughed before shooting me a glare filled with pure malice. "Nobody insults me and my gang and gets away with it! You must pay for your arrogance!" he declared.
I looked at them with an unamused expression before groaning from the sheer cringe of their performance. "How many times have you practiced this in the mirror? Do you do this to all of your victims? Also, Boxin' Gang? Did ChatGPT come up with that name for you?"
As Jason charged towards me with unbridled rage, I braced myself for the impending attack. I knew I couldn't defend myself, so all I could do was endure the pain. His kick sent me flying into a wall, the impact causing a sharp pain in my chest.
A barrage of punches ensued, each one landing on my face with brutal force as his gang members reveled in my suffering. My face bore the brunt of their amusement, bruised and battered, my eyes swollen to the point of being unrecognizable, and blood freely tracing a path down my nose.
The pain was excruciating, a suffocating sensation that made me feel as if I was teetering on the brink of oblivion. I was too feeble to retaliate. Weakness had always been my Achilles' heel.
"Hey!" A voice, familiar yet commanding, reverberated through the room, bringing Jason's actions to an abrupt halt.
The voice belonged to a figure who swiftly closed the distance between herself and Jason, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick that seemed to momentarily dislodge his soul.
"What do you think you're doing!?" she demanded, her tone seething with righteous indignation.
The bratty woman's complexion turned ashen as she recognized the newcomer. "Ah crap, it's the Student President!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with apprehension.
The Student President, a beacon of authority and respect, turned her attention to Jason, who was still reeling from the impact of her kick. "You're such a disappointment as ever, Jason," she admonished him, her voice tinged with disappointment and revulsion.
She then shifted her gaze to the other members of the gang - Chub, Maria, Cane, and Troy.
"If you don't leave now, I will file a complaint to the principal and deduct your points by 20. Would you like to repeat this school year?" she threatened, her tone stern and unyielding.
Maria scoffed in annoyance, muttering a curse under her breath, "F*cking b*tch."
One by one, they all vacated the classroom, including Jason, who was seething with rage. He was livid that he hadn't been able to teach Jarlath a 'proper lesson'. He vowed revenge, promising himself that both Jarlath and the rule-abiding Student President would pay for the humiliation he had suffered. He was determined to make them pay for their arrogance, no matter what it took.
Once they had left, the Student President let out a sigh of disappointment. She then turned her attention to Jarlath, asking softly, "Are you okay?"
I groaned in response, the pain in my face was intense, ringing like a fire alarm. I hated this feeling. I yearned for a world where I could live without fear of being hurt. I had already suffered enough, so why did life continue to heap more pain on me? I just wanted to live like any normal person, but instead, I was being treated like a punching bag.
I opened my eyes to see Priscilla, the Student President, looking at me with concern. "I-I'm fine. I didn't need your help," I managed to say, despite the pain.
She raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly conveying her disbelief. "I highly doubt that. You would've been hospitalized if that were the case," she retorted.
"I'll get going now..." I said, standing up slowly and painfully. I grabbed my bag and made my way towards the exit.
Despite Priscilla's kindness and the potential for friendship, I found it hard to trust her. Her attitude and personality reminded me of a so-called friend who had betrayed me in the past. I didn't need another source of suffering in my life.
As I left, I heard Priscilla's voice behind me, filled with concern and curiosity. "What happened to you?" she asked, wondering if my behavior had something to do with my past life back in Ireland.
———
Embarking on a solitary journey homeward, I chose to forgo the customary bus route, immersing myself in a vortex of contemplation. The inaugural day at my new educational institution had left an indelible mark, casting me as an outlier, a magnet for tormentors.
Almost instinctively, I found myself straying into a secluded alley, my progress impeded by an imposing brick wall. Overcome by a surge of resentment and exasperation, I began to assail the wall with my fists, each strike a desperate bid to liberate the suppressed emotions within.
These emotions were akin to a tempest brewing inside me, a violent whirlpool of anger, frustration, and despair threatening to engulf my very being. Each blow I delivered to the brick wall was a tangible manifestation of these sentiments, a vain endeavor to externalize the internal turmoil.
Suppressing a scream, I was mindful not to disrupt the tranquility of the outside world. Yet, within the confines of my mind, I was in a state of turmoil, questioning my existence, my purpose, and the seemingly perpetual affliction that life had imposed upon me. If there was a divine entity, I implored for a sign, a justification for my suffering.
Abruptly, a vision of a humanoid figure from a dream materialized in my mind, prompting me to cease my assault. A sense of serenity enveloped me, even as the pain from my lacerated hands began to register. I could feel the bones in my hands teetering on the brink of fracture. I was perplexed as to why the figure had resurfaced in my memory, but at that moment, it seemed inconsequential.
"I'm not going to school tomorrow," I murmured to myself, making a resolution. "It's not different from my previous school back home."
My attendance on the first day was merely a fulfillment of a promise made to my parents, but it did not necessitate regular attendance. Given the circumstances, it seemed rational to evade my persecutors by refraining from school.
I envisaged spending the day ensconced in the sanctuary of my bedroom, shielded from potential confrontations. The realization that I had failed to forge any friendships on my first day was disheartening. Priscilla could have been a potential friend, but my trust was no longer easily bestowed. I was shattered.
As I resumed my journey home, I glanced at the time. It was 4:39 PM. I pondered when my father, who was employed in New York City, would return. Our residence was situated in Brooklyn, and I hoped for his safe commute.
I also wondered if my mother had managed to complete her grocery shopping earlier and if she would be able to prepare dinner. I was determined to conceal my injuries from them; they were already burdened with worry.
Upon arriving at the entrance to my apartment, I noticed the same humanoid figure from my dream sprawled on the floor before it vanished. I shook my head, questioning whether I was experiencing hallucinations. The image of the figure had been ingrained in my mind ever since the peculiar dream I had about a zombie apocalypse. It felt eerily real.
"I am so tired," I muttered, unlocking the door and stepping into the apartment.
I made a beeline for my bedroom, bypassing my mother who was engrossed in cooking in the kitchen. The aroma of Spiced Beef permeated the air, a dish typically reserved for Christmas and New Year celebrations in Ireland. It was my preferred meal, and I speculated if my mother was preparing it for me.
Despite their attempts to uplift my spirits, I was cognizant that even my favorite meal would not restore my happiness. My life had been irreparably marred ever since the betrayal. I was... sigh... I'll just rest.