For some reason, I've been thinking about the bullies I dealt with in junior high school today. I was actually pretty lucky, as I was left alone most of the time. I think the prettier, wealthier types got it the worst. I was too skinny, very awkward and far from rich. I really didn't "come into my own," as they say, until I was in college. Anyway, I managed to avoid most of these mean attackers except for two. I will change their names for the sake of this blog post.
The harassment began in the 8th grade and continued, off and on, most of the school year. Nothing major - mainly remarks about my clothes or whatever. She saved her knuckles for other girls. I later learned that Lucy had been living in a car with her mother during both 7th and 8th grade years. So, although I wasn't wealthy, at least I had a bedroom to sleep in every night and two parents who loved me a great deal and gave a damn about my grades.
Ok, I'm not changing this bitch's name. She was a horrible person. I know that mature as they get older, but I am willing to bet all the cool Red Sox merch I own that Sherry is still horrible, where ever she is. I became her target as soon as I rushed to the defense of one of my friends she was bullying. My friend was tall, but vulnerable and Sherry had a good time ridiculing her in front of her pack of rejects. The moment I told her to back off my friend, I was subjected to a seemingly never-ending spewing of hate and verbal abuse. Once, Sherry sped after me screaming obscenities when I was walking with my mother. She had zero class, bad hair, freckles and icy blue eyes. She was pure evil. Unlike Lucy, I have no pity for Sherry. I wouldn't be surprised if she was completely miserable, broke, in and out of rehab, and haggard. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that she looks twice her age. That's what the hatred-misery combo does to people.
How does one become like Sherry? What are the series' of events that lead to this? And why do adults and people in positions of authority do nothing about it?
One last note about Sherry. I eventually got my revenge, or at least something close to it. My dad was a school teacher at the Vocational school and Sherry's boyfriend was a student there. He was also our paperboy for a while. He was a pretty creepy kid who I suspect smoked a lot of weed. Anyway, when my dad caught wind of the whole Sherry situation, he stopped her boyfriend in the halls whenever he could. My dad was on that kid's case. Normally, my father really could have cared less about that stuff (this is a man who would use rock and roll trivia as bonus questions on his exams), but he did it for me. It still makes me smile.
Labels: ideas that could possibly make me a bad person