Pushed Too Far

         Over several weeks the bullying and taunting became worse. Tyrone didn’t deserve it, and honestly, I have no idea why Larry continued to torment him. Thirteen-year-olds then and now really have too much time on their hands. Larry could have sat anywhere else in the cafeteria, but no, Larry insisted on sitting within earshot of our group. Larry would insult Tyrone choosing from a myriad of categories. Some days it’d settle on Tyrone’s meekness; other days would encompass Larry spouting baseless, hateful things about Ty’s family.

         One day, sure enough, Ty was pushed too far. Larry was sitting at the other side of the table, near the middle, diagonally across Ty. Something compelled Larry to rapid fire insults about Ty’s mother, brother and then he proceeded to goad Ty into action. Larry antagonized him by calling him chicken and jeered, “What ya gonna do? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Something snapped in Ty—days of bottled anger was released in the form of Ty forcefully sliding down his open drink towards Larry. The drink hit the long table’s divider in the middle and tipped surprisingly accurately in Larry’s lap. The orange, fizzy contents were emptied on Larry’s face, t-shirt and pants.

         Larry, on impulse, clenched his fists, barreled past us and began unleashing his fury on Ty. From the force, Ty fell backwards between the table and the bench and was effectively stuck—back to the floor and facing Larry’s onslaught. Tyrone had few options but to desperately use his arms to guard his head and body.

         The startled cafeteria had little choice in what to watch. All eyes were on this boy with anger issues of a deeper nature pummeling my friend who was simply fed up with the bullying.

         Mr. Flamer, the widest, shortest principal I’ve ever met, stormed the length of the cafeteria with such cat-like speed; he gave credit to his name. Mr. Flamer’s pudgy hands grasped both troublemakers by their shirt collars and hauled them all the way to the office.

         The cafeteria was in quite an uproar until the teachers sedated the onlookers, table by table. Our classmates around us asked, “What happened?” A few of my friends, who were storytellers since the first grade, recanted and reenacted the scene to the crowd of uncharacteristically attentive seventh graders. I clarified confusing parts when someone asked and gave my two cents if something said wasn’t true.

         The next period, I was called to the office. I gave my testimony with pencil and paper, jotting the play-by-play from my perspective. After a page and a half of explanations, I turned it in to the principal. One by one, my friends went to Mr. Flamer’s office to officially recount what happened.

         Both Larry and Ty were suspended. Ty’s parents were furious, but Ty was always a good kid. I’m sure that deep inside, even during Tyrone’s punishment, his parents knew he was still a genuine good kid.

         After the suspension, we welcomed Ty back with open arms and never brought up that conflict. Middle school had far too many things going on to be bothered by one incident.

         I really have no idea how Mr. Flamer stayed or any principal stays in the middle schools. God bless them.