Different

Everything feels the same, even though it's been a while since the last time I came here. To be really honest, I don't know how and why I am in middle school again. All the sweet things that made me love this place are here: Leila, the woman at the entrance that would greet each and every kid that arrived, the small gardens at every corner, the smell of comfort that I associated to the classrooms, the teachers, and the furniture that makes me feel like I have gone back one decade in the past. Unfortunately, the part of this place that I don't love is also here: the unignorable part that screams the loudest -- the other kids. 

I can say that the way I feel towards this place is quite paradoxical. See, I love everything about it, except the kids. I feel so peaceful here, but then, at the same time, the kids make it feel like hell to me. My quiet and timid personality turned me into an easy target for bullies and everyone feels like a potential bully to me. Like an animal that has been so mistreated, I always walk around fearing the imminence of the next blow. Or that is how I used to feel because, even though everything feels the same, I feel different.

At the entrance, Leila pats my head, but after that, my shy smile quickly disappears when I see Nestor, one of the bullies, on the way to my classroom. Taking a different way is not an option. There's Bruno near the drinking fountain, Felipe and Jonas by the door of 6th grade, and I can't go back to the entrance without having Leila ask me why. There will be a bully waiting for me anywhere I go. That's how it is every day. I feel an imminent blow coming from anywhere and sometimes I'm trying to avoid it without even knowing if it's coming.

Someone touches my hair. Here comes the blow. I look behind me, and it's Kevin. "Hey, did you get electrocuted or did your momma forget to comb your hair?" He says. Doesn't this guy ever change? This is the insult I hear the most. I've always worn my hair in an afro and, because of that, I'm their very own clown. As I see, the kids here are still the same snotty, narrow-minded little pricks they used to be. I grab his wrist, look him in the eye, and calmly say, "there's food between your teeth, you nasty pig. Didn't your momma brush your teeth, or are you saving that for break?" He looks shocked and I'm impressed by my own reaction. I look at him, and he seems disturbed and completely embarrassed with this stupid, awkward smile - that kind of smile you have when you tell a joke only to find out it's not actually as funny as you thought it was. He tried to reach for the food between his teeth with his tongue, then picked it with his fingernail, sucked it back and finally swallowed it. Disgusting, I know.

I walk away and proceed to my classroom, with this feeling of triumph that I've never felt before. I feel different. Nestor is on my way, but I couldn't care less. He stares at me as I approach him. It's been so long, but he seems not to have grown at all. I used to dread his stare, but now, all the fear is gone. Behind his eyes and his fake bravery, I feel the weakness of a little child that can't excel in anything but needs to hurt others to feel superior. He mutters something as I pass by. I clearly remember how terrified I was of him and these insults he muttered under his breath. Now it doesn't matter. Everything and everyone is the same, but inside of me, why do I feel different?

I enter the classroom and walk towards my desk -- the last one in the last row, at the opposite corner to the door. I've always preferred corners. They felt safer because there, I didn't need to expect blows coming from as many directions. As I walk across the room, I feel that I no longer carry the weight of my low self-esteem, shattered to pieces by the bullies. I would usually walk facing down, trying my best not to be noticed because that was the only way of not being a target to their cruel jokes. But not today. I have a strange feeling that now they respect me, that the reason I walked unnoticed was not that I was the "nobody" that they made me feel, but because I am simply somebody deserving of walking to my desk without being harassed. I walk slower, I wanna appreciate that feeling for a little longer.

Shortly after I sit down, Mrs. Beth, the history teacher arrives. She asks us to leave our books open on the homework. I see the kids hastily opening their books and writing down any shit that could come across as an answer. I don't need to do that, not anymore. I revised at home and did my homework. That's surprising because I used to hate history with all my guts. History had always been the stone in my shoe. I couldn't read a single page without feeling extreme anguish and boredom. Doing history exercises usually felt like an impossible task to me, but not this time. During the lesson, when teachers asked us questions about the subject, I would hide from them in my corner just like I would hide from the bullies. But now, Mrs. Beth is asking me to read one of the answers to the exercises, and I do that without resisting or stuttering.

"So he learned to speak after all," I hear a girl say as I began to read. To which I instantly replied, "I learned to speak, but you still need to learn to keep your toilet mouth shut." 

The classroom was silent. I heard no laughter, no answer back from the girl. The teacher looked appalled. She told me to go to the principal's office. That's funny because none of the kids has ever needed to go there for what they've done to me.

On the way to the principal's office, I stop by the drinking fountain and see my reflection in its mirrored surface. I look different, I have a beard. My phone is ringing, but I don't have a phone. It's 1998; kids don't even carry phones as they do nowadays. I wake up confused. I can't tell if this was my second chance to stand up against the ghosts of my past in a dream or a nightmare where I was visited by the ghosts of my past.