45 Days to Save the Bad Boy

One

George, I have successfully located Breton Joel. Currently he is sitting three tables over and five tables down from me in the cafeteria, which is where we are supposed to eat, but usually end up gossiping while studiously ignoring the gross substance on our trays that the lunch lady calls food. It took me only a day. So, yesterday, which was Monday, was day 1. Today is day 2 of my operation. My very scary possibly traumatizing operation, which could end in my guts spilled all over the street while wild animals like bears and raccoons sniff at my dead body. Sorry George, I didn't mean to get graphic.

I paused in my writing, picking up my sandwich and cautiously sniffing it. I had made it this morning, bringing it to school in a paper bag, but it was in my locker all morning. Because the lock on my locker had broken, my personal bullies now had access to my things. I carried my books around with my in a backpack, but I couldn't bring my sandwich because it would get squished. Sadly, it was left in my locker, open to any wandering bullies who might want to sabotage it.

Sniffing again, I peeled apart the bread, revealing jelly, peanut butter, and a smelly gym sock. Gross. Making a face, I gingerly plucked the sock off the sandwich and set it on the table. Jay would probably want his sock back, and if I threw it in the garbage with my ruined sandwich I would have to go dumpster diving again. As the sound of my sandwich being thrown in the trash once again alerted my bullies that I hadn't taken a bite of their surprise, they surrounded me. My bullies came from all different tables in the cafeteria. I wasn't bullied by the jocks, or the goths, or the slightly-less-nerdy-than-me-nerds. I was bullied by a jock, a goth, a slightly-less-nerdy-than-me-nerd, a drama queen, a comedy king, and him.

The first to reach my table was slightly-less-nerdy-nerd. It made sense, because his table was closest to mine.

"Hello Harry," I greeted him in a resigned tone. He ignored me, waiting for the rest of his squad to show up. Next came the goth.

"Jeannette, how nice to see you!" I chirped. Happiness made her angry, but I couldn't help it. Her black make-up scared me, and I felt the need to cheer myself up whenever I looked at her.

Drama queen and comedy king showed up together. They belonged to the same table, two tables down and one across from me. "Donna, Joey," I nodded to them as they arrived. I didn't get a response. Never did until he showed up.

The second to last one to arrive was the jock. Jay was my favorite bully, because he was creative about it. It's almost comforting to know that while your bully has no brains, he can still be completely imaginative while torturing you. He wouldn't go anywhere in the world, less likely to succeed, that was Jay. He knew it, and I knew it, and it gave me comfort. This bully would not be running the world one day. I never say anything to Jay, because sarcasm confuses him and so does talking nerds. But I silently offered him a fist bump once he was close enough. He tapped my fist while glaring. He's a bit confused, poor guy thinks we're enemies while I think he's my best friend.

Then he came. Rising leisurely from his table. Three over, five down. He looked like a giant from this far back. It was even scarier up close. "Peter Joel. Nice to see you again. Lovely weather we're having. Oh I'm so rude! How are you today?" I rambled as he came and sat at my table. On cue, all my other bullies sat down too. My table was usually empty except for me, so there was enough room for all of them.

Peter Joel was my main bully. Like a main bodyguard, but kind of serving the opposite purpose. No, never mind, because then he would be an assassin. A fun fact about Peter: after locating my target (Breton Joel), I also found out that Peter was his cousin. That's why they sit at the same table and everything.