When We Ruled the World

As I get older, I reflect upon the ‘Good old days’. By ‘Good old days’, I’m not referring to the world in general. . . No, to me this phrase refers to a time in my life when anything was possible. When lofty dreams were as real as the individual who dreamt them: A time when we ruled the world. And, as pompous and grandiose as this statement may sound, it couldn’t be closer to the truth, for the world was ours to shape
into anything that we saw fit.
My rise to power, as with any rise to power, was brought about through the efforts of others, both friend and foe alike. As for those who tried to stop me, the specifics of
their stories are unimportant. This tale is dedicated to the person who showed me that life is all a matter of perception. That one person who helped me realize that no matter
where you are, there you are. That is to say that whatever you make of any situation is based upon who you are as an individual, and that whatever conclusions you draw are
based upon the decisions you make as that individual. The person I am referring to is Dale McDonald.
Dale was the ‘school tuff’: The one person that no one wanted to cross. More than a mere school bully, this scruffy, denim clad rogue had been elevated well above the status of someone who merely got off on oppressing the weak. He was the person that no one approached as neither friend nor foe. This, I guess was due in part to his appearance, which was intimating in and of it self, but was secondary to the real reason for the fear he
put into the hearts of the other students. Dale’s true power came not from anything tangible or even visible: His strength was based solely on his reputation and the stories that fostered it. As for these yarns which were more folklore than reality, they shall be dealt with in good time, but for now, I would simply like to speak of an incident which would intertwine both Dale’s and my own path.
The year was 1981, and my family had recently relocated from a suburb of Detroit, Michigan to Columbus, Ohio, a move that was as uncertain, as it was distasteful to me. In my mind, Columbus, and all of Ohio for that matter, would be full of small-
town folk, cowboys and rednecks. What did I know? I was coming from a full-blown thriving metropolis, plunked down in the middle of a hayseed heaven that I thought
would be full of Richie Cunninghams and the rest of the ‘Happy Days’ gang. To my surprise, the people of Columbus were very similar to those whom I had left back in Detroit. There were the popular kids, the smart kids, the wannabees and the outcasts: Kids that did not conformed to any known standard.
As the new kid, I was a member of the later, lesser-defined group of people. Keeping to myself, I settled into the comfort that obscurity has a way of providing. Whether or not this was the best plan of action is still a question that I puzzle over
occasionally, but one that, in retrospect, I would not change, for I would have never met my life-long friend.
When I met Dale, it was not under the best of circumstances, as I was only looking to skate through my first awkward day in a new school. In a homeroom full of long-time friends, I was viewed as an un-welcomed intrusion that could upset the balance of the eighth grade at Whitehall Junior High. The glares that I received in those early days, proof of the threat that I posed. Arriving late to my first class did not help matters either, as I became the center of attention when Mrs. Blake asked me to the front of the class.

“Class, this is Chris. He’s joining us from the ‘Motor City”: Detroit, where they make most of the cars your parents drive. Now, I want you all to make him feel welcomed, as he adjusts to the changes that new surroundings can bring.”

As I stood there before this classroom of strangers, I did not see a single face that I would classify as a friend. While most of the expressions I viewed were those of uncertainty, some conveyed distrust and others indifference. In a feeble attempt to sway anyone’s fears or distrust, I spoke.

“Hello.” I said in a wavering voice, as not a single soul responded. So much for making friends with this group.

“Well. Let’s see where we can put you Chris.”

Mrs. Blake’s survey of the room was merely an attempt to express her concern for the new student, because as I recall there was only one seat available. It was near the back of the room where the chairs seemed to curve outward, as if an invisible bubble had
pushed them away from some central point. Inside this bubble was my chair along with that of one other student who appeared to be sleeping.

“Okay then, I guess there’s only one place for you Chris, just have a seat and we’ll get onto today’s lecture.”

As I approached my seat, I could feel the tension in the room grow and from the whispers that permeated the class, I could tell that I was in for a fate worse than death. When I reached the back of the room, I could see the source of everyone’s concern. In the desk behind mine was Dale, arms folded across his chest, head down and feet up on the back of my chair. It was as if this student had been assigned two desks: One for him and another for his feet. Slowly, I approached, quiet enough as to not disturb this slumbering outcast. When I finally reached my desk, I waited for a moment or two to see if my neighbor would remove his feet of his own accord. . . Apparently, this was asking too much as the army-boot clad feet remained glued to the back of my chair. As I slid into my desk, all eyes were transfixed on me to see what would happen to the new kid once he . . . I. . . disturbed Dale McDonald’s feet.
Sliding in ever so gently, I sat down on the edge of my seat without waking this source of everyone’s terror. Looking around the room, I could see the disappointment on their faces as I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, there you go.” Mrs. Blake said, as she seemed to breathe a sigh that mimicked my own. “So. Let’s began with the role-call.”

As the names were called out, one by one the students raised their hands until Dale’s name was reached.

“McDonald.”

From behind me, I heard nothing, nor did I feel any movement
from the feet that were pressing against my butt.

“Dale McDonald?” Still nothing. “Okay, Dale is here.” Mrs. Blake said in her mousy voice, as she continued.

“Ossman?” Mrs. Blake said, as my name drew the attention of my new classmates. “Chris Ossman?” Mrs. Blake repeated.

“Here!” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

As the whispers filled the room, I could see everyone commenting about ‘the new kid’s name’. As I tried to disappear before everyone, the last thought on my mind was the reject sitting behind me, but this would all change. Through the giggling and
pointing, I noticed my name was being repeated.

“Ossman? Hmmm. Any relation?”

“What?” I said as I turned to come face to face with the infamous Dale McDonald.

In a low voice, Dale spoke again.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a million times, but are you any relation to Donny and Marie?”

Smiling, I responded.

“No. They’re lame.”

“That’s too bad. It would’ve been cool if you were.”

“I know. I . . .” I said, as Dale put his head back down.

And that was the extent of any conversation with Dale for a while. Occassionally, I would see him in the hallway, but he never spoke, let alone look at me. He never looked at anyone, which seemed to suit everyone just fine.
Over the next few weeks, as I grew more accustomed to my new surroundings, I made a few friends. Sure, they were nerds, but having someone to eat lunch with and talk to sure beat sitting alone. Besides, they were nice people even if they were bookworms and brownnosers. Slowly but surely, my confidence returned, and the turmoil I expected when we moved to Columbus disappeared, or so I thought.
It was in homeroom when I discovered how wrong I was. This was where I found out that not all people will like you just because you’re nice. My instructor for this important lesson was Kimberly West. Kimberly was this blonde Pat Benetar wanna-be
and she was as tuff as Ms. Benetar’s video persona. She was a slim girl, but this did not detract from her intimidating presence. She could always be found smoking behind the school during lunch where she commiserated with the toughest kids at Whitehall Junior High: The kids that feared neither student nor teacher: The heavy-metal kids. Aside from their tee-shirts which displayed their favorite band, they all wore blue jeans, which were usually faded and dirty, sometimes smelly and always ripped. They almost
exclusively wore moccasin boots, which were adorned with tassels from knee to ankle. Inside these boots were tucked their dirty jeans and whatever they could hide from school
officials. Completing their outfits were handcrafted, leather wallets, which were attached to any available belt-loop by metal chains. Other than the fact that Kimberly was in my homeroom, I had no contact with any of these kids, which was probably for the best.
Now, although I had no problem with Kimberly, she obviously didn’t like me. Whether it was my smile or the way I walked or the way my heart beat is a subject for another discussion. The fact remained that she didn’t like me and she never tried to hide
her feelings. For this reason, I made a point of steering clear of her and her friends. Homeroom however, was another matter and eventually, the inevitable occurred. It was early one Friday morning and as usual, I arrived a few minutes before the bell rung to talk about the up-coming weekend with my new friends. Of course, as with any conversation between teenage boys, there was plenty of laughter, which would have most likely gone
unnoticed had I not been looking around the room: A mistake I only made this one time.
It was while one of my bookworm friends told a joke that I noticed Kimberly giving me the evil eye. I wasn’t necessarily looking at her, just in her general direction, but she assumed that I was and that whatever I found so funny must have been directed at her. Quickly, I looked away and thought no more of this brief encounter until I heard the chain from her wallet scrap against her desk as she stood up. Normally, the girls in Kimberly’s click didn’t wear these wallets, but Kimberly was different from most girls: She demanded respect and this small accessory was one sure way of gaining it. As she approached, a silence fell upon the group, telling me that something was definitely wrong, because my friends never shut up. When I looked at them, I also
noticed that they were diverting their eyes to the floor, the windows, anywhere that Kimberly wasn’t and I knew that some unspeakable horror was about to befall me. When
I turned and saw her approaching, my mind scrambled for anything that would avoid a confrontation.

“What did you say about me Donny?”

That got a big laugh from the rest of the kids in homeroom, but I could tell that Kimberly was doing more than making a mere joke of my last name. It was clear to me that she was trying to intimidate and provoke me, as she stepped to within a couple of inches: Her face a mere six inches from my own.

“I . . . We didn’t say anything about you Kim. Bobby was just telling a joke about . . .”

“Me?" She said glancing at Bobby insignificantly. "You think you’re bad, because you’re from Detroit or something?”

“No. I’m sorry, I meant Kimber . . .”

Before her arm connected with the side of my head, I could hear the ringing in my ear. After she connected, I was at her mercy, which must have been in short supply. Before I knew it, my ear was throbbing, my nose was bleeding and I was heading for the
floor. As I lay there recovering from her initial blows, she jumped on top of me and continued to rain her fury upon me. Not once did any of my supposed friends try to help, as they were most likely afraid of the repercussions for any act of bravery on their behalf. Maybe that’s also why I didn’t fight back, or maybe Kimberly was just too much for me to handle, the fact remained that I was getting beaten up by a girl.
Eventually, Mrs. Blake entered the room and separated the crowd that had gathered as well as Kimberly and myself, but my fate was sealed. I don’t know if it was the fear of being associated with one of Kimberly’s enemies or the fact that I had been
pummeled by a girl, but not even my nerdy friends would talk to me again after that.
I was once again a loner and it would stay that way for quite a while. In the following months, my days were spent eating lunch, keeping to myself, cursing the day we moved to Columbus and avoiding anywhere that Kimberly and her friends hung out. I was in a category by myself: I was the guy who got beat up by Kimberly West. My life was a mess. I had no friends, I was the ridicule of the school and on top of all of that, Dale persisted in keeping his feet on the back on my chair. I tried to let him
know of this annoyance in subtle ways: Turning around and looking at his feet, moving in my seat so he could feel my butt pressing against his feet, and arriving early so I could move
my desk away from his. None of my hints got through to him however: He never looked up in homeroom, so he never saw me looking, he never seemed to notice that his shoes were digging into my butt, and he would simply move his desk up until his feet would reach my desk. Eventually, I had run out of space to move my desk forward and had to endure the souls of his shoes digging into my rear. Finally, with all other options
depleted, I came up with one final plan: One that would have an adverse affect on my life from the moment I acted upon it.
I arrived to homeroom a little earlier than usual, and moved both Dale’s desk and my own back so I would have room to enact my plan. As the final bell rang, everyone filed into the class, including Dale who, as usual, plunked down in his seat, put his feet on the back of my chair and his head down for his morning nap. As role was called, I looked back at his feet, which of course he didn’t notice. I then moved around in my seat, which, once again went unnoticed, then I tried my latest plan. As Dale slept quietly, I inched my desk forward. The pressure against my butt diminished, but not to my satisfaction, so I moved forward once again and once more. With each move, Dale stirred, but remained silent otherwise. Occasionally, I would look back at his feet to see their proximity to the edge of my seat. I needed to know how close I was to the point of no return. Ever so slowly, Dale’s shoes reached the end of my seat, and soon enough, I
would be rid of this nuisance. With one final breathe, I pulled my seat forward and heard the thud of Dale’s feet landing on the floor. To my surprise, this did not seem to disturb my neighbor as he continued to sleep, so I turned around and smiled to myself. I was free of Dale’s feet for the first time since arriving at Whitehall Junior High School.

“That wasn’t so bad.” I thought until I heard what I feared the most.

As the scraping of Dale’s desk echoed through my head, I prayed that he wasn’t going to do what I knew he was. For the next few seconds, all I heard was the scraping of his desk, then it hit me, or more accurately, they hit me. Once again, the tips of Dale’s shoes were digging into my butt, and once again my frustration began to mount. As I sat there fidgeting, I thought about moving once again. I was nervous, because I had heard
all of the stories about how Dale had beat up all of these tough guys from other schools and I didn’t want to be the next one: Not that I was a tough guy, after all, I was the guy that Kimberly West beat up. I just didn’t want to get beat up again, but those feet were driving me crazy.
Eventually, my fear of losing my sanity won out and once again my desk was on the move. Inching it ever so slowly away from Dale’s intrusion, I thought that I would once again be free. That was when I had my second conversation with Dale, or rather that was when Dale spoke.

“Stop moving the desk.” He said, not raising his head.

“WWWhat?” I stammered.

“Stop moving the desk. It’s disturbing me.”

“But Dale. You’re feet are on the back of my desk.”

“So? Don’t worry about it.”

‘Don’t worry about’, I thought as the anger began to swell up inside. To me, this was the final straw, so with one quick movement, I pulled my chair from under Dale’s feet and shuddered at the thud they made as they hit the floor.

“Dale your feet are digging into my butt.” I squeaked out.

In fear, I waited for Dale’s retaliation as the bubble that surrounded our desks erupted with whispers. All around, I could already hear about my demise at the hands of Dale McDonald as they questioned my ability to survive his onslaught given my handling of the Kimberly West incident. I think that I even heard pity in Kimberly’s voice as she added to the whispers that surrounded the back of the room. After what seemed an
eternity, Dale raised his head, and looked me squarely in the eyes. The bubble grew silent, as everyone awaited the verdict.

“All you had to do was tell me.” And with those words, Dale began to lower his head.

As I watched him sink into his seat, I allowed myself to breath, perhaps prematurely, for as Dale put his head back down, he raised his right foot, which appeared to be heading for the back of my desk. As my heart raced, I watched Dale’s foot ascend
toward its usual resting place before descending upon his other foot. In an instant, all of the excitement swirling around my desk dissipated as Dale sat there with his head down and his legs crossed, on the floor. For a while after that, not much else happened. I went to school, avoided everyone, went home and I continued to hate life in this new city.
Every day at lunchtime, I would quickly eat whatever my mother had packed in my lunch bag then head off to the library. This was the one place where I could be certain not to run into anyone, my fortress of solitude. After my defeat to Kimberly
West, I found that not even the school nerds went into the library, especially not at lunchtime. I guess this would have labeled them as ‘Super Nerds’. As for me, I couldn’t get any lower in the Whitehall hierarchy. There I would sit, traveling to exotic countries, lavishly described in various adventure stories, both real and imagined. Day after day I would find myself on ‘Treasure Island’, hiding the bounty that my men and myself had pirated from some merchant chip. There I would find myself infiltrating Nazi Germany in an attempt to gain strategic supremacy over the Axis. It was also in the library where I started one of my greatest adventures ever.
I’ll never forget the day I discovered one of Whitehall greatest kept secret. It was a rather ordinary day in most respects. I had found a certain fascination in adventure tales that dealt with true events. The discovery of the Americas, the exploration of the
same, the conquest of ‘Alexander the Great’, the dynasty of the Roman Empire all spirited me away from my own miserable existence. It was while I was looking for my next great adventure that I stumbled upon the last thing I thought I would find in the
library. As I searched the Dewey Decimal System for ‘973.4 . . .’ (I forget the rest of the number), I found myself deep inside the library and there I saw him.
Before me, on the floor, was none other than Dale McDonald. He wasn’t there sleeping as one would expect, he was reading, a book! Quietly reading, so engrossed in his story that my
approach had gone unnoticed. As stunned as I was, I realized that he had as much right as anyone to read, so I hesitantly continued my search for the adventures of Lewis and Clark. Scanning the numbers taped to the bottom of the books, I gingerly stepped over his outstretched legs and withdrew my book of choice. When I was certain that I had the correct book, I once
more stepped over Dale’s legs and hurried my pace from this section of the library.

‘That went rather well.’ I thought to myself. As I neared the end of the row however, I heard a voice calling to me. From somewhere on the floor, I heard Dale mutter something in an almost inaudible voice.

“Excuse me? Did you say something Dale?”

Without raising his gaze from the book he read, he repeated himself.

“Not a word.”

“Not a word. . . To anyone . . .” I added, as I rounded the end of the row, leaving Dale to his reading. There was no need for any further explanation. Dale had spoken and I would keep quiet about this incident.

For the next few days, the thought of Dale sitting on the floor and reading consumed me. Not once had I seen him express any interest in class, yet there he was reading of his own accord. Talk about your misjudgments, Dale now epitomized this sentiment for me and I couldn’t help wondering what other surprises lay beneath his irreproachable veneer. At one point, I thought that this might have been an isolated incident, but to my further surprise, I found out that Dale spent every day in the library,
seeking whatever knowledge he deemed worthy. Sometimes, I would spot him in the same section in which I first encountered him. At other times, he could be found in the math and sciences area. His thirst for knowledge astounded me as I found myself spying on him on a daily basis. Everyday, after I ate lunch, I would go straight to the library and search for him. Peeking around the rows, looking for his army boots, I became intrigued
by his self-education, and I assumed that this invasion of privacy had gone unnoticed. To my surprise, I was wrong as I found out on my last scouting expedition.
Entering the library, I quickly began seeking out my target, scanning every row before moving to the next. Quietly approaching the end of every row, looking for the first glimpse of the black boots. As I reached the end of the “S’s”, I spotted them. I noticed that they were flat on the ground, which puzzled me, because Dale usually sat with them stretched out in front of him. As I made a mental note of my locale, I stepped back and that’s when I bumped into the person I had been trying to avoid.

“What are you doing?” Dale said from behind me.

Thinking fast, I answered.

“I . . . I think I’ve past the section I was looking for. I’m looking for the “M’s”.”

When I turned around, I noticed that Dale’s feet were covered only by his socks. Terrified, I forced a smile and tried to move around him, but I wasn’t getting off that easily.

“Why are you following me?” He said, with a stern look in his eyes.

“I’m not following you Dale. I’m looking for . . . for . . . for the “M’s”.”

“No you’re not. You were lookin’ for me. The same way you’ve looked for me everyday for the past few weeks. Why are you following me?”

Caught red-handed, I decided to come clean. The worst thing that he could do was beat me up, and I couldn’t imagine it being any worse than being beaten up by a girl.

“Well, to be honest, I thinks it’s funny that you would be in here at all, let alone reading everyday.”

“Funny? What? you don’t think that I can read?”

“No, well, I didn’t. I mean I didn’t think that reading was something that you were interested in. I didn’t think that you were interested in anything that had to do with learning.”

“Well, you were wrong. Now, stop following me, and don’t mention this to anyone.”

Dale then turned around and started to walk away, but I on the other hand was not satisfied with how our conversation ended.

“Wait. Dale?”

Stopping in his tracks, he slowly turned around and began walking back toward me.

“Dale? Why do you keep this a secret?”

Instead of answering me, he proceeded around the stacks and recovered his boots, where he began putting them back on his feet. Again I asked.

“Why is this such a big secret?”

Again he ignored me, and headed for the exit, leaving me there to sort through my question by myself.
We didn’t talk anymore after that and I stopped following him around the library. He would enter and head for whatever section he sought and I would sit quietly doing
homework or reading some adventure story and that was the extent of our relationship.
School got better, I re-established friendships with some of the nerds who had abandoned me, but I couldn’t stop wondering about Dale’s secret life. He was the guy that all others feared at Whitehall, yet he was afraid to let anyone know that he had a
passion for reading. I couldn’t understand why, but I would find out soon enough.
Halloween was approaching and I was in good spirits, because this was one of my favorite times of the year. Only surpassed by Christmas and my birthday, Halloween was the day that I enjoyed the most: Dressing up like a soldier or a monster or my favorite
super hero was only part of it. The rest was being able to act out, to act a fool and of course there was the candy. Now, whatever else can be said about Columbus, no one could ever claim that this city doesn’t know how to celebrate Halloween. Almost every
house on my block was decorated with witches and goblins and those that weren’t were decorated with rotten eggs and toilet paper.
This year, I had decided to go out dressed as Superman and was accompanied by Bobby who came as Dracula, Tommy who was the Mummy and an assortment of other monsters and superheroes. The night was ours and we planned to make the most of it.

“Alright, we’ll hit our street first then head over to Bairsford.” Bobby explained, being the longest resident of the neighborhood. “That way we’ll get all of the best candy,
because the people on Bairsford always pass out the candy corn and those orange marshmallow things first.”

“Yeah, I hate those marmallow things.” I said as Bobby continued with his instructions.

“But be careful on Bairsford, because Kimberly lives there, but her and her friends usually go out to parties and should be gone by the time we get there.”

“Good thinking.” Tommy said, as Bobby brushed his fingernails on his chest in praise.

“Okay, so are we gonna put everything together and divide it up evenly when we’re done?”

“No way Tommy. You always get the worse stuff.”

“Ah come on Bobby. I do not!”

“Okay then. Keep your good stuff to yourself.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

And that was the plan for the night. Get as much candy as we could then head home to stash the booty before heading over to the haunted house near Ohio State. As we collected from every house on the block, we would take breaks to determine who had
gotten the better candy. It seemed that Tommy was always left with the ‘short end of the stick’ and he always let us know.

“Oh, man. I got another marshmallow thing. I hate these things.”

We would all then laugh, eat something from our bags and head for the next house. And that’s how it went until we got to Bairsford where Bobby gave us all one final warning.

“Now. Like I said, Kimberly and her goons usually go out, but be careful, cause ya never know. She could be anywhere.”

“Anywhere?” I said. “Don’t you know where she lives?”

“No. I used to know, but her family bought one of the other houses on the block a couple of weeks ago. They needed more rooms or something, so watch out.”

With that, we all headed down Bairsford until Tommy made a suggestion.

“Maybe we should take turns knocking or something? There’s no sense in all of us running into her.”

After thinking for a moment, the group decided to go with Tommy’s plan, so one by one we took turns knocking on the doors. After which, the rest of the group would proceed to the house. When my turn came up, I approached what I noticed to be one of the larger houses on the block. With each step that I took, I could feel my heart racing faster. I had seen first hand what Kimberly’s fists could do and could only imagine what
pain her boyfriend Scott could inflict.
As I looked at Bobby and the rest of our group, they urged me on from the safety of the bushes. I felt like Martin Sheen’s character, Captain ‘Bejamin Willard’ when he was going to meet Marlin Brado’s character ‘Colonel Walter E. Kurtz’ in ‘Apocalypse Now’, as I stepped up to the door. After ringing the doorbell, I stepped back, hoping that retreat would not be necessary. As I heard the footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, I thought of what I would say if Kimberly answered. Nothing came to mind. When the door finally opened, I was pleased to see that it wasn’t my nemesis, but a rather pleasant woman who answered.

“Trick or treat.” I said, as the fear dissipated.

“Oh. Trick or treat. One second.” The woman responded as she reached for the bowl of candy resting on a small table near the door. Before she could give me my prize, the telephone rang from inside the house.

“Excuse me. I’m expecting an important phone call.”

“No problem.” I said, as she went to another room.

Turning around, I gave the thumbs up sign to my cowering companions, who didn’t budge from their hiding places, so once again I ureged them to come forward. And once again, they refused to approach the house and soon, I would understand why. As if from thin air, Scott and his cronies appeared, dirty jeans, moccasin boots and all. From somewhere inside the house, I could hear the woman speaking.

“Kimberly? Will you give that young man at the door some candy? You’re father’s on the phone.”

“Yeah, sure mom.”

As I stood frozen in front of her door, Kimberly approached, a smile growing on her face with each step. To my rear, I could hear Bobby sounding the retreat.

“Run!”

And that is what I proceeded to do. As fast as my feet would carry me, I angled away from Scott, who was confused by all of the commotion. As I fled, I could hear Kimberly’s voice.

“It’s that Ossman kid! Get him!”

Running for what I feared was my life, I ignored the candy that spilled out from my bag, as Scott and his friends gave chase. Hopping fence after fence, I traversed several backyards in an attempt to get away from this bunch of bullies, but they were on
my tail the whole time. Eventually, I gave them the slip and came upon a backyard with a large doghouse in the shadows. As I listened, I could hear Scott and his buddies continuing their search.
Safe for the moment, I used the time to catch my breath, waiting for my pursuers to give up. As their yelling subsided, I thought of the best route home and that’s when something else occurred to me. Big doghouse means big dog. Creeping from this temporary shelter, I surveyed the backyard for its canine resident, but saw nothing, a fact which did not settle my nerves in the least. Where was the dog that called this place home I thought as I eased toward the gate.
Cutting distance to the fence in half, I scanned the area for any signs of movement and that’s when I saw it. From the shadows, something approached. What is was, I could not be certain of at that moment, but I was certain that it creeping towards me. With every step I took, this stalking creature matched my stride. Instinctively, I knew that I was going to have to make a break for it soon, because the animal was about to pounce. Tensing every muscle in my body, I prepared for
the second chase of the night, but before I could move, the beast emerged from the shadows.
Before me lumbered one of the smallest dogs that I had ever seen, wagging its little tail. Trying not to laugh too loud, I stretched my hand out so the tiny dog could investigate. Trotting right up to me, it did just that as I gave it a nice scratching between it ears.

“You’re a good little dog, aren’t you?” I said, as the dog moved around for better coverage. “You’re a good little . . . dog . . . Wait. You’re not a dog at all. You’re just a puppy. . ." Looking at the familiar markings, I gulped. ". . . A rottwieller puppy!”

As I screamed out these last words, a much larger dog emerged from the shadows, growling its displeasure at my intrusion. Leaping to my feet, I scaled the fence and landed with a thud in the grass.
Relieved that I had escaped being torn to shreds, I failed to notice the group of boys that had gathered. When I looked up, all I could see were the smiling faces of Scott and his gang, as they dragged me out into the street.

“So, what do we have here boys? Superman? I don’t think so. More like Stupid man.” Scott said to the amusement of his friends.

“More like Stupid boy.” Another of the gang said, as he pushed me with his foot.

That was when I noticed Kimberly approaching.

“You guys got em’?” She barked, as the group parted to allow her entrance.

“Yeah, he almost jumped into our arms.”

Leaning over, Kimberly said in a whispered. “Now you’re gonna get it.” The crowd erupted into laughter once again.

“So. What do you think we should do with him? Scott asked.

And that was when I heard Dale speak for the fourth time in my life.

“Maybe you should let him go?”

As I peered through the legs that surrounded me, I could see my savior. Clad in the usual army boots and blue jeans was Dale, defying the entire group standing by Kimberly’s side.

“Maybe you should just go to whatever party I’m sure you’re missing now.” Dale uttered with less concern than one would have before stepping on an ant.

“Or maybe we should give you some of what we’re gonna give him?” Scott blurted out.

“Well. I wouldn’t do that. That might upset Michael and trust me, you don’t want to upset Michael.”

“Michael? Who’s Michael? We’ll kick his ass too.” Shouted one of Scott’s cronies, drawing a look of displeasure from his leader.

Before another word could be spoken, Michael made his entrance. From the shadows emerged the puppy that I had been scratching moments earlier, to which Scott replied.

“Oh no, not Michael, he scares me. If Michael wants some of this, we’ll give it to him as well. Why don’t you take you’re little dog home, before we beat both you and him up.”

Smiling at the little dog, I couldn’t help myself as I spoke out.

“I don’t think you guys want to do that.”

“Shut up Donny! No one was talking to you!”

“Okay, but you might want to listen to me. I know what I’m talking about. You don’t want to upset Michael.”

“Michael.” Scott said defiantly. “Hey Dale? Why don’t we want to upset Michael?”

After a long pause, Dale responded.

“Well, because that would upset Sheila.”

“And who’s Sheila, you’re mommy?”

With that, Dale patted his leg and the monster that chased me from his yard emerged.

“No. Sheila’s Michael’s mommy and she’s very protective.” I couldn’t help giggling as Dale said it.

That was when the tone of the discussion changed. Scott’s voice had an apologetic air when he spoke next.

“Look Dale. We don’t have a problem with you. My problem is with this punk, so why don’t you just stay out of this?”

Delighted, I lifted myself from the ground and moved away from the crowd. Greeting me was Michael, who trotted up for another good scratch. I was safe, or so I thought.

“I’ll stay out of it, if your buddies stay out of it. If you’ve got a problem with Chris, then settle it one on one.”

As the words came from his mouth, I thought I was hallucinating, but Scott seemed to get a lot of pleasure from Dale’s decree.

“Okay then. Me and Donny. One on one. This should be quick.”

“No, no, wait.” I said. “I didn’t even do anything to him Dale. They’re just chasing me, because they don’t like me.”

“Well, it’s time to stop running Chris. If you don’t stop them now, they won’t stop themselves.”

Logic was the last thing that I need, as Scott approached and punched me square on the jaw. As the fight began, I noticed all of my so-called friends emerging from the bushes. I was about to get beat up in front of them for the second time. As Scott reared
back for his second swing, I noticed that something was different from my fight with Kimberly. This time, I didn’t feel the need to try to reason with my opponent. This time, I knew that I had a friend in my corner. This time, I didn’t have to worry about what would happen after the fight. All I had to do was concentrate on the task at hand, which wasn’t easy as Scott continued his onslaught. With every blow, I could feel the rage swelling up inside of me until it boiled over in a fury that neither Scott nor myself expected.
As I lunged for him, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my body and there was only one place for that energy to go. After a myriad of wild swings, I finally connected with Scott’s jaw and the temple of the fight was set. After that blow, all of
Scott’s punches were wild and feeble at best, so I stepped right in and finished him off. Eventually, my arms felt like they weighed two hundred pounds, so I could swing no more. To my delight and surprise, Scott had been sufficiently beaten and wanted to have no further dealings with neither myself nor my fists. I had won and was now surrounded by the very kids who had left me to fend for myself on Kimberly’s porch. As the heavy-metal kids helped Scott on his way, I looked for Dale, but there was no sign of him, Michael or Sheila.
Battered, bruised and bleeding, I couldn’t feel anything except elation, because I had gained the respect of Scott and his cronies, my nerdy friends and most importantly, respect for myself. For the first time, I felt like I belonged in Columbus and was happy to be here.
Over the next few weeks, the rumors spread like wildfire and I attained a cult status, even amongst the people who actually witnessed the fight. People who had never talked to me before the fight became my friends, and no longer did I feel the need to fit in, because I was one of the popular kids. And although I enjoyed this attention, something was missing: Something that I couldn’t put my finger on until I ran into Dale on his way to the library.

“Dale?” I said, as he I followed him to the history section. “I never got to thank you.”

Without turning, Dale replied. “Thank me for what?”

“For what you did on Halloween.”

Sarcastically, Dale replied.

“What? For making you a hero? For making you one of the popular kids?”

“No, for helping me stand up to that bully.”

With that Dale turned to face me and said.

“I didn’t help you face Scott. Scott helped you face Scott. He helped you face yourself. And although it must’ve felt better to win, that was not important. What was important was how you felt about yourself. I know, because I went through the same
thing. . .That’s why I am the way I am.”

“What? You had to face a bully like Scott?”

“Yeah, except his name was Tony and he wouldn’t stop messing with me until I stood up to him.”

“So, what happened to Tony?”

“He’s a freshman at Whitehall Senior High. Don’t worry, you’ll meet him soon enough.” I guess that Dale could see the worried looked in my eyes, so he continued. “Don’t worry. I think Tony’s changed his evil ways. He’s probably got his own bullies to worry about now anyway.”

‘Great, I thought. Just what I need, more bullies.’ Not wanting to dwell on this, I questioned Dale further.

“So, after you beat up Tony, didn’t you make a lot of friends around here?”

“Oh yeah, of course, but who needs friends like that? They weren’t there when he was harassing me, so their friendship was empty.”

And with those words, I understood. None of the people who liked associating with me now were there when I needed them. Not one of them stood up for me when Kimberly beat me up and most had turned their backs on me afterwards. Dale was right and to this day I still give him credit for helping me become the person I am today.
In the days that followed, I found myself spending more and more time in the library with Dale and less time with the new friends I had made. Together we would sit, reading about whatever adventures we would like to take ourselves, as we explored and ruled the world from the library of Whitehall Junior High School.


THE END