The Freakman Incident

The Freakman Incident

One of my favourite stories out of school involved hanging the useless punk named Freakman out the third floor window at the LER because he tormented me so badly. He would not back off after repeated warnings from me that I would kick his ass. He was the school's complete oddball, retard, weirdo and pariah. Every kid in the school hated him. He still holds the record for receiving the most wedgies at recess, lunch time and after school. He never had an ounce of common sense in him that would tell him to back off. I was all of 11, a few days shy of turning 12, and tall for my age. I had no other alternative but to manhandle him myself. "He won't back off and leave me alone," I complained almost daily to any teacher who would take the time to listen to my troubles. "He calls me Lorner, spits in my face, trips me up, and I'm darn fed up. I'm gonna kick his arse good one of these days. He even busted up Mike's project, something he worked on for months. I'm tired of detentions and strappings because of Freakman."

But nothing was done to stop him. If I fought him in the schoolyard, I ended up getting strapped or handed lunchtime detentions whilst he miraculously escaped punishment. That really made me mad! On that fateful November day, I spied him in an empty third-floor classroom and the pent-up rage surged through my blood. He had to be the most disgusting sight of all with that wiry blond hair and goofy glasses and pudgy face. "I owe you one, creep face," I snarled and slowly approached him with a menacing look on my face. Freakman, hiding his fear, grinned and hissed "Lorner!" at me.
"Yeah, I'm a Lorner and this one is gonna kick your ass good and hard! You're too stupid to learn any lessons! How many more times do I have to beat you up?" I was bound and determined not to back down. This was going to be settled right then and there.

I moved toward him in a menacing manner, a clear indication that I meant business. He sensed that and slowly backed up toward the huge window, which was partly open. "Lorner, eh? We shall see about that!" I growled as I gave him a mighty shove, pushing his back against the ledge. I wouldn't back off and he had nowhere to go but out. I shoved him again, spat and grabbed a hold of his ankles. He was outside the window, dangling downward, facing away from the building. Terrified, he began to cry and screech. "Noooooo! Don't! I'm scared of heights!" he bawled in the hope that I would help him back up to safety.
"That's good, 'cause I'm dumping you way down into the snowbank, you disgusting pig!"
Freakman blubbered some more and began to wiggle like the worm he was. "Please don't! I won't bother you any more! I promise! HELP ME!!!"
"Your words mean nuthin, Freakman!" I lowered him a little more and he cried harder as terror struck the stone that was his heart. "You're not going to back off at anytime soon! As soon as I let you up, you'll be up to your same old tricks. You're not getting off easy this time! I have been getting the strap because of you!"
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeese! I don't wanna die!" His blubbering and snivelling took on a tone of desperation. I shook my head and tightened my grip. I shook his ankles a little to terrify him some more. "Oh no, not this time! You're going down! I'm dropping you head-first into the snowbank! I have no mercy for you!"
"Noooooooooooo! Pleeeeeeeease!" More sobs of terror emitted from the rubbery lips of this heartless creep. In my heart, there was no mercy for this punk who made my life hell. My being wrongfully punished for his doings was going to end today.

Suddenly, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. "What the hell is going on here? Stop this at once!" a voice I recognized but didn't expect thundered. Frightened out of my wits, I almost dropped the hapless bully head first into the hard snowbank far below. Mr Hanson, the LER principal, positioned his massive bulk in front of me and glared at me as though I was some kind of a criminal, all the while displaying his fabled gold front tooth. "To the office NOW!" He glared at me again in a fury as he helped the bawling and totally terrified Freakman back to safety. "You could have killed him!! Then what, young lady?"
"Me to the office? What about him? You're mad! He starts all the fights and I get punished!" I yelled at him. "He gets away with everything and I take the straps and detentions!"
"Enough out of you! Let's go!" Mr Hanson pointed in the direction of the stairwell and gave me a slight push. "Now! Move it! And not another word out of you!"
"You'd better do something about him! Don't be punishing me!"
Mr Hanson sent a still sobbing Freeman off to his class and followed me downstairs. He was mad, I can tell by his heavy footsteps on the creaky old stairs. I muttered about it not being fair. Why should I always get the punishment whilst nothing is done about Freakman?
"You are suspended immediately!" roared Mr Hanson. "A letter will be sent to your principal at JR informing him of this fact! And you are not to take Vocational for the rest of the year! Do I make myself clear?" Once again, the gold tooth gleamed as though it was trying to intimidate me.
"You can't suspend me! I quit! I don't need this place anyway!" I was smug and defiant in my assertion. He wasn't shocked because he probably heard it a thousand times over his career as a principal. He merely glared at me, displaying that gold tooth. From his pocket, a pack of Colts peered out. "Let me ask you something. How old are you?"
"Eleven and three quarters, nigh on twelve! Is this all? I'm not getting the strap?" I was ready to display both hands in anticipation.
"Get going, young lady! I don't want to see you hanging around the school or the property!" Mr. Hanson then reached for the phone. I knew that he was going to call Mr. Doucet, the JR principal. I didn't care. Facetiously, I curtsied before him and stomped off toward the door to what I thought was freedom.

I arrived home at supper, my normal time after an hour's bus ride to JR. I grinned and winked at my brother as I passed him in the kitchen where we hang up our coats on the hooks behind the wood stove. Mom looked at me in a queer way. I felt my heart sink in my chest. "How was school today?" The kitchen smelled deliciously of homemade bread and I anticipated a treat.
"The usual, Mom," I told her. It was a normal question that she asked every one of us when we came in through the door. "Same old stuff, Mom. Nothing much happened."
At that moment, Mom took what we called her "mad stance"; her legs spread apart and her hands on her hips. Fear surged through me. She knows something! Yikes, I'm in trouble, I thought to myself.
"Get yourself back here this minute! What happened at school today?" Mom glared at me and I knew I was in trouble.
"Nothing, Mom! Really!"
"Nothing? You were put out of school today and it's nothing?" Mom was furious and her voice was sharp. "Ma petite Christ de Goddamn!" She fired the dish cloth at the sink.
I knew I was in big trouble when Mom cussed at me in French. "I don't know what you're talking about! Someone's telling you lies, Mom!"
"The principal of the school contacted Matante and Mon Oncle! They came down and told me about it! That's how I know! You got suspended from school for hanging Freeman Knowles out of a window! I don't know what's gotten into you!"
"Freeman ain't nobody! He's a retard! He got what he just deserved! He wouldn't leave me alone and calls me names, spits at me, trips me up and all that. Nobody will stop him, so I had to do something! I can't count the times I told the teachers, but they do nothing! He gets off, I get the strap or detention because of his doings! I've had it with school and that horrible place! I don't want to go to school or vocational anymore!"
"Mom, she's right. He picks on all of us and makes trouble. He busted up my Science Fair project not so long ago," my brother Mike rushed to defend me. "I got a zero because of him. I told the teachers up there and they say nothing to him. He gets away with all kinds of things!"

Mom wisely backed down, realizing it was no use to keep up the argument. "We're going to have to do something," she said after a while once the anger was dissipated. I knew that she was terribly disappointed with me. But, Mom didn't know the whole story of the hell that school was for me. Being red-headed and freckled didn't help matters any. The bullying was too painful for me to tell my parents about.

Before long, the School Board butted its nose into our lives, demanding that I be sent to a reform school down in St. John. School board officials visited the house and tried to convince me that at reform school, I'd learn a trade, but I didn't fall for it. "Why should I go to that school when I didn't start any trouble? I complained and nothing was done. I am no delinquent," I kept telling them. "Defending myself is not a crime. Reform school is kiddie jail, and I don't need to be reformed!" I flatly refused to cooperate with their lunacy and threatened to run away from home if they insisted on it. Much bickering took place between me, them and my parents. Eventually, after many a heated session and my stubbornness, a solution was found. That solution turned out to be homeschooling. I would not get into any more fights and trouble. I thrived in being taught daily by my aunt, a substitute teacher, and doing things with my hands. Because I no longer had to deal with the madness of school and Vocational, my talents came to light. It reflected my learning style and I did my work at a pace that was comfortable for me. Before long, my brother Mike was learning along with me.

However, the Freakman problem didn't end there. It continued, and we clashed every time we went to town because he lived a few houses away from Matante's.

© LeighAnne
18 November '09