The Bully Network, Part One

Part One:

  Chapter One:

  Sasha

  "Come on Sasha. You know you can tell me anything."

  I shuffled my feet, pretending to consider it. Of course, I knew I couldn't say a word, or they would get me. The bullies. They were the reason I was here. A teacher caught them asking me for money, and marched all of us straight up to the Head of Year Seven's office. The teachers. *Sigh*. They don't know a thing. They think they have this high school sorted out, they think they know everything. Well, they don't.

  I could feel the bullies' stares, as they gave me looks of 'If you dare tell on us you are dead'. But I didn't look at their menacing faces, I looked dead ahead. Not into Miss Egna's face, no, I would falter under her kind gaze and spill out everything. That was the trick, in my school. Never look anyone in the eyes. Or you were dead meat.

  "It was nothing, Miss Egna." I replied cooly.

  "It did not look like nothing to me, Miss Green. It looked like bullying."

  "Oh, but Miss Egna! There has not been a single case of bullying in this school for, oh, forty years, wasn't it?"

  I could sense her face redden, and her calmness slipped. Score one for Sasha Green. I had touched a sensitive spot. No, I hadn't just touched it. I had properly bashed it.

  "In your assembly today, you even said that the victims are the only ones who know what's happening. And, even though I'm not a victim, I know exactly what happened. And it was nothing."

  I felt the urge to say something beginning with 'And besides, according to you...' but it would sound way too smart and cocky. I needed to keep an innocent face.

  "Well..." Her approach was weakening. "Sasha, if you ever... well... need to talk..."

  "Oh yes, of course Miss Egna. Now, can I go? I really do need to get my dinner. I'm starving!"

  That was it. Play the innocent strings. It worked. She said a few words more, then we were all free to go. But as soon as I got to the back of the lunch queue, the bullies came back.

  "Right. Money." A heavily built Year Nine lad announced, with a sturdy hand held out. That was Mick.

  "I only have my lunch money. I need to eat!" I begged, knowing that it wouldn't work.

  "You know the drill." A nerdy looking girl, thin with plaited pigtails and huge glasses, snapped. "We ask for money, we expect money. How much you got?"

  Sighing, I tipped the contents of my plain purse into Mick's hand. The geek girl, whose name was Jenny, counted it quickly, since Mick would take hours.

  "Hm. Three quid?" She questioned. "Any more?"

  "No." I answered quickly. Too quickly. Jenny noticed.

  "Ah, there is more." She smiled, reaching in my pocket. I instinctively moved to try to stop her, and got a punch in the gut off Mick. His huge fist winded me, and I ended up doubled up and leaning against the wall.

  "Aha!" Jenny had found my other purse. "Let's see now... one, two, three, five, seven, nine, ten... wow! A ten quid note! You really are in the money, aren't you Sasha?"

  That was my 'emergency money' off Mum. In case I forgot my dinner money one day, or something like that. I had saved up for ages in that purse. All that money and time wasted...

  "We won't need anything off you for a while!" Jenny declared. "Harriet, tick her off!"

  A rather fat girl with thick brown locks and piggish brown eyes produced a large leather book from her satchel, and dug a pen out of her deep pockets. Her small piggy eyes scanned the list, stopping at what I assumed was my name. She ticked off a whole four weeks! (Four ticks) Phew. That would last me a while. Jenny took one last look at me.

  "Remember, Sasha, you can't fool us. I guess you'll be going without dinner today. Oh well. This should cover you."

  She flicked me a penny, and the group went off, laughing. There were about six in total. In that one group. But the Bully Network was much larger. It extended throughout our school, and the neighbouring ones. In fact, it was as large as the whole town! Each week, all the bullies met in a park in the town centre, after school on Fridays, and put all their money into a box with a lock and only one key, and all the homework they had collected had to be photocopied then put into bundles and tied, labelled and put in separate boxes, one for each school. There were competitions and leader boards, as every single bully needed something to reach for. Sadly, that meant us victims had to suffer even more.

  As soon as the bullies left, I reported to Medical and was soon actually sick. Partly from the punch that I got, and partly from excitement. No extra money for a week! No living in fear of... wait. I was still on the homework list. Oh no. I had to do three lots of homework that night, and give them to three different bullies. And I had two more sheets of Maths due for the day after. Life at High School was as complicated as ever.

  But at least I was going home early. As soon as my Mum dropped me off at home and scurried back to work, I set to work on my homework tasks. A sheet of general knowledge for Geography, a sheet of sums for Maths and a drawing of a Roman pot from a picture for Art. Geography for Josh Davy, Maths for Alex Hughes and Art for Jody Gills. After doing my own work, I did the two sheets of Maths for the day after next before loosening my tie, pouring myself a glass of lemonade and actually relaxing. For once.

  Part One:

  Chapter Two:

  Tim

  As I lined up for lunch fearfully, I saw a girl get punched in the stomach by Mick Rodgers, the strongest and stupidest guy in Year Nine. A bully. Jenny Widows was picking out her pockets, and I thanked God that it wasn't me getting picked on for once.

  I had eighteen sheets of homework in my bag, and I had already delivered twelve. I had been on the homework list since our Essentials exams in Year Seven; it was now Year Nine and there was hardly any difference. I was tall and spindly, with a full face of acne and nerdy looking glasses. I was constantly picked on, especially in Phys Ed, but so was everyone else. You're a bully or a victim, my mam said, there's no in between at that school. She's dead now. Died of Cancer. Not like I tell anyone. I get picked on enough already.

  My mam went to this school, and her mam, and her mam before her. This school is ancient, the building itself made in the fifties, then reconstructed in the sixties, and repaired in the eighties, but it's the same old place. This is why I'm always picked on. I can't help acting like a nerd.

  About half an hour later, I actually got inside the Canteen. I was mostly safe. It was like being in a monster's belly. You were past the danger. The teachers watch the students like hawks, and the whole place is deathly silent. They demand silence, so that they can listen for bullying.

  It's ironic, really, that our school is so intent on banishing bullying yet bullying thrives here, often better than anywhere else. I've heard that we're third after Kingsly Grammar and West Mid High. Kingsly Grammar is full of snobs and preps, so it's no wonder they're second. And West Mid High is so out of control it's a wonder they aren't shut down, although I hear that they are involved in an Ofstead scam that means they never get inspected. Obviously, the pupils took advantage of this at once.

  I bought a burger wrapped in some sort of paper, and a small carton drink, spending very little, since I needed to pay two pounds to the bullies after dinner. My dinner cost two thirty. Phew. I had two pounds seventy left. That meant I only had to give one pound thirty the next day.

  Unlike most people, after dinner I went straight to the bully hangout. Groups of large kids hung around, and a certain Matt White came up to me.

 

  "Money?"

  "More than usual. Two seventy."

  "Good one Tim. It'll be seventy less for you next time."

  "Thank you Matt. I'll get you the money for before school tomorrow, if you want! And have you got any homework you ne
ed doing?"

  "I like your type of guy. Willing. Yeah, actually, I do. Two sheets of Chemistry. It's only answering questions, identifying stuff and the like. I need it ASAP."

  "It'll be done for tomorrow morning."

  "Great. See you round, Tim."

  I walked off, grateful. I liked that type of bully, if it was possible to like a bully. You could reason with them, talk to them, understand them, please them. The brute like bullies were so out of fashion, but also dangerous. Wait, weren't all bullies?

 

  As I walked away from the danger, I felt someone watching me, but as I turned round I only noticed a small girl who instantly looked away. Hm. How strange.

  Although, not many nerdy kids like me could just walk up to a bully den and talk to a bully like that. I supposed it was just because she was curious, and shrugged the thought off almost instantly, walking inside and making my way along the corridors aimlessly, with about half an hour left of lunch, not including the extra twenty minutes that the Primary School children had gained us. Oh well, I thought. I hope that I don't see any bullies.

  Part One:

  Chapter Three:

  Amelia

  As I glanced around, I saw the geek boy, Tim, walk off from a crowd of bullies. Untouched, unruffled, and almost unnoticed. I looked away immediately as he looked my way, before looking back at him when his back was turned. I had not been in this school for six weeks without noticing our huge bully problem, and trying to figure out a way to at least evade it, make a sort of resistance, something!

  But I had slowly realised that a small part of the problem was people like Tim Galley. They sucked up to bullies for all they were worth, and even did extra little things for them. The bullies would never stop if they were getting rewarded for their work. They would get worse. But part of me couldn't blame Tim. He was simply surviving. And to survive in this school, you hunted or you used your brain. Sounds simple enough, but it is easier said than done.

  And at the moment, I was being hunted. I could tell. I kept seeing this Year Ten called Michael around corners or down the corridor. Him and his gang. They were preparing to pounce. Luckily, I was ready. Well, mostly.

  "Hey, Amelia! Amelia Answorth!" A strong scouse accent echoed down the corridor. I turned, and he motioned for me to follow. Michael. Him and his gang. So I did, at a safe distance. I had his money and some neatly typed homework in my bag. Three whole quid. Geez.

  I followed them into the yard, then behind the canteen. His burly figure and ginger hair then turned on me, his piercing hazel eyes looking for some sort of sign in my face as to if I had done what he had asked.

  "Have you got it la?" He asked in his quick accent.

  "Of course, scouser."

  I was suddenly shocked as he pushed me against the wall and grabbed me by my neck. The last bit had just slipped out. It wasn't meant to. But it had.

  "What did you call me la?" He snarled.

  "I...I...I didn't mean to... I mean... I...It slipp..."

 

  He increased the pressure on my neck. Nobody could hear me behind here, since the walls were goodness knows how thick and the building was so large that it was quite a walk to the other side. I instantly felt uncomfortable, as Year Seven's were almost always at a disadvantage, being inexperienced, small and weak.

 

  "It just slipped out did it?"

  "M...maybe..."

 

  He pulled his hand back, before slapping me across the face.

 

  "May that teach your mouth to stay shut!" He pronounced the shut as in shat, which made me want to say scouser again, but I didn't dare.

 

  One of his little gang snatched my bag off me, yanking my neck in the process. He snatched out my purse, tipping the whole four quid out. A single tear slipped down my cheek. I was only a Year Seven, please understand, and the concept of brutal bullying had been a far off thought, a dream, like hunger in Africa or far off wars. But now it was real.

 

  The homework was grabbed, and given to Michael. The guy who had the bag then tipped it over, letting everything thud to the concrete floor in a huge, messy, pile. A sly smile skipped over his face, before he dropped the bag and followed the rest of his little crew back to the yard.

 

  I sank to the floor, wishing that had never happened. But it did. I could feel the hotness spreading to the area around my mouth, mostly my right cheek. Gathering together my things, I almost started crying full on. My homework was all over the floor, ripped and crinkled. My books were splayed all over the place, and by the time I hurried back to the school there were only five minutes left of break. That was the worst bullying. The unorganised, brute bullying.

 

  How I wished I could tell someone, as I walked sadly into the library. Sitting down, I stared into space, not aware of anyone or anything else around me. I remembered that I had Art, and thought that I was going to be late, but nobody else was even moving, and the rush had not started yet. Wait, of course! The Primary School children were coming that day, and we all got an extra fifteen minutes of lunch.

 

  The one good part of that lunch. And it was small at that. But little did I know, better times were soon to come.

  Part One:

  Chapter Four:

  Sidney

  As I sat behind a bookcase, fiddling with my phone, I noticed a sad looking girl with a pale face and a blond ponytail walk in and sit down. Her right cheek was red, as if she had been slapped, and her bag was dirtied slightly. I didn't usually notice things like this, but it were her sad blue eyes that entranced me. There was a faint redness that suggested crying, but only a little, and they looked a little glassed over. Very recent crying. Or, if you really needed a plainer explanation, bullying.

 

  But after a closer look at her, I decided that she looked more than just sad. She looked beautiful. A little short, maybe, but almost spotless, and I couldn't bear seeing her so sad. I turned off and pocketed my phone, walked over to her table and sat down. She looked up, surprised, into my dark brown eyes. I looked at her with what I hoped was understanding, since I knew that we could not even utter a word related to bullying. But we could improvise.

 

  "Who?" I whispered. She looked a little stressed at this, so I held her hand under the table and squeezed it gently. This must have reassured her, since she looked back up at me and tried to control herself.

 

  "Michael. Michael Heatan." She muttered back.

  "Did he..." I hesitated. "Did he slap you?" I murmured finally.

  "Y...yes..." She stuttered quietly, her eyes becoming even more glassy.

 

  I knew that we needed to be somewhere quieter. There were only four more minutes of lunch. No, wait. We were having a longer lunch period than usual since some Primary School kids were visiting and they needed to get through our tight corridors without the lunch rush. We had nineteen minutes. I lead her to where I was sitting before, out of the Librarian's eagle like eyesight.

 

  "It's alright." I tried to comfort her. She sighed.

  "I wish..." She started quietly.

  "I know." I answered her unsaid statement.

 

  She leant her head onto my lap, maybe trying to hide the fact that tears were dripping down her face. I knew what she was going through. In fact, I even knew her briefly. Amelia Answorth. She was in my form, in Year Seven. But it felt like I was in Year Eight, at least, I knew the school that well. It had only been about six weeks. But back to me. I was always bullied, for my skin colour mostly, but also for the normal reasons. For instance, I didn't bully anyone else.

 

  Without thinking, my hand slid over to her hair and stroked it gently. When I realised, I also realised that she hadn't reacted badly like I might've expected. Instead, she just relaxed into my lap a little more. This was probably my best experience with a girl
. Ever. Hey, who knew that love could bloom in this dismal place?

 

  But enough of the poetry. We both had Art next, and that was quite a walk. We would have to set off early. I mentioned this to her quietly, then asked if she would walk with me. She agreed, getting up and squeezing my hand. I carefully wiped her tears away with my sleeve, so that her eyes did not give her away. I doubted that she wanted everyone staring. We stepped out of the library quietly, and started walking down the endless corridors towards the Art section, getting there just before anyone else. And in that split second before the bell, when it was just her and me, she leant up to my face and pressed her lips against mine softly, before leaning back gingerly and covering her ears slightly as the large bell rang above us, and all hell broke loose (The lunch rush began).

 

  If this was what high school was like, I was alright with it. For now, at least. And, as we walked into the Art classroom and got handed an entry, we both slid into a two seater desk. I took this as a sign that 'for now' would turn into 'for a long time'.

  Part One:

  Chapter Five:

  Ellie

  Quickly, I joined the rush to Phys Ed, swooshing past a pair of lovebirds by an Art classroom and following my crew that consisted of piggy eyed Harriet, spiteful Jenny, strong and stupid Mick, loud mouthed Jordan and rat like Oliver.

 

  We had collected a lot of money that lunch, and on Friday we would have a lot to give. The highlight of that lunch would have to be when Mick punched that stupid Sasha in the gut. At least she didn't blab to that stupid Head of Year. Well, Head of her Year. We were Year Eights, of course.

 

  In the changing rooms, Jenny, Harriet and me made no end of comments about the uglier girls of our form, and also about this horrible cheap deodorant that some girl was spraying about.