Victim and ringleader

I stood up. I nudged her right arm a bit to make way for myself. Yet I felt the stiffness of her body. She didn’t move.She seemed determined to block my way there. But I stil didn’t figure out why she was pissed off. Maybe she heard my gossips that her mom would “yell at anyone passing by her fruit stand”, or her chubby body that is “unable to stuff into the seat”.

She normally reacted submissvely-pretending nothing happened and consenting to be the derision. But just as a decrepit tap that nobody expected to work was suddenly turned on, she was triggered. Flush bursting out in split seconds, spreading through capillaries, and occupying her cheeks, she walked up to me.

Who are you talking about?

Someone. I raised my eyebrows with nonchalance, as I was literally referring to an obscure figure distant to either her or me.

Who are you talking about?  She accentuated it, as she literally didn’t know the answer, didn’t know she was not welcomed in this class, and was not even on the rim of anyone’s friend circle.

I was supposed to feel bad for being mean to her, but suddenly I was overcome with disgust. Ridiculous that she could be silent and listless in front of others’ exclusion and disdain, but overreacted to my mild mild jokes. Mines were only a stab-in-the-back, not to be heard by her. At least not intentionally. But she dared to confront me.

I was sure she had been already, steadily, looking down at me before I made sport of her. When did she grow this misconception that I was easier than and inferior to others? Was it because I did show my compassions to her, or I greeted her in the hallway and seldom walked home with her? Did she then conclude that I liked her, or I was a friend of her?

Hell no. I didn’t like her, like everyone else. Yet I didn’t hate her, so for courtesy and my education, I appeared to be accessible, for which- I guess-I was separated from others and categorized into a sticky friendship in her eyes.

I decided to take away this courtesy that disparaged my image. You already knew who I’m talking about. It is what it is. That was what I said, with clear mind to cut the conversion with outspoken dislike. Then here I am. Standing with her, face to face, in this stalemate. I used more effort to nudge her to leave- she still did not move. I pushed her backward-still didn’t. Then I realized it was myself was moving, falling back to the seat after she pushed me down hard. She grabbed my ponytail, dragging my instinctively retracted upper limbs forward, scratching my face with her broken nails, which I saw her always bite whenever she’s alone.

I was shocked to freeze, doing nothing but physically experiencing and mentally filming everything until some other classmates pulled her away and helped me up. Lena, are you OK?  Someone behind me asked and handed me a broken rubber band segment. It’s snapped.

I was just about to tell her it’s not a problem and I didn’t realize until she mentioned it to me, but before that May cried, your lip is bleeding!

“oh my…”“bleeding…” “gosh…” Suddenly everyone seemed to grow vicarious feelings and felt empathetic to me. I looked around, they had stopped their schoolwork and become engaged in watching this farce.

She and I faced each other again. But after those manic three seconds, she became impenetrable to me. She was furious; she just hurt me. But she looked frustrated; she was trembling. Her nails were more like a show-off; it didn’t hurt. Her intention was not to attack; as a wild animal wounded by traps, it was more like a defense, a defense after being betrayed, but in a frantic way.

You are such a jerk, Amy. You are crazy. Mind your place, Amy. Lena was so nice to you. Still May with her histrionic tone. I was assisted to go back to my seat, many spectators came close to May, comforting me affectionately along the way. She was left behind, besieged by the crowds with seething indignations.

It’s always the victims who are entitled to recount the bully. And I’m retelling it after 6 years. But I hesitated a lot, reflected and reconstructed as well. I still don’t know ultimately who I was? the victim or the ringleader?