Just A Game

No one would’ve expected Riverback Elementary to be the school that fought both bullying and harassment as a goal, and place two boys to fight together everyday after school. The teachers left about an hour and a half after school ended, which gave the kids a safe space to start this event. It was always held in the fence for toddlers to go and play during recess. Obviously, toddlers would not be around during this time.

The fight was always between two 3rd grade boys. One was named Andy Pieck and another, Barry Troken. They were the only ones to take part in the actual fight, which wasn’t even that much of a fight to begin with; they were no more than five minutes of accidental thwacks and ended when one fell on top of another and threw enough aimless swings until the referee called a winner. The referee wasn’t any actual official, only a 5th grader who said he knew more than enough compared to anyone else due to the many wrestling and boxing matches he watched on television. It didn’t matter anyways, the fights never went too far. Because of this preexisting mindset behind every fight, the moment that Andy Pieck would fall into the snow dead by Barry Troken’s unexpected weapon was entirely unaccounted for. 

Today’s fight was met with heavy snow from the night before, but the schedule did not stop for inclement weather. Due to the snow, however, it caused the deep red of the pooling blood to be highlighted over the bright white of the shining snow. Andy’s head sunk into this collage of red and white, which did not make a magical looking pink like what was taught in elementary color theory. His opponent, Barry Troken, stood there, looking down at his adversary that would not get up. He felt redeemed, but only for a brief moment.

His redemption would be caused by his loss at the previous day’s fight. One of Andy’s punches struck Barry too hard in the nose, which caused him to stumble back and get a bloody nose. Andy was first taken aback by his own faux accuracy; he certainly didn’t mean to hit there, but when the gasps and “woah’s” turned into praise and cheers, he got a puffed up chest and ego. This hurt Barry to his core, who was humiliated for getting hurt more than either has gotten, and angry that Andy was getting praise even though there was an unwritten rule that hitting too hard wasn’t fair. Most of all, Barry was scared, scared that the fights would be the same after that day every time, with someone getting hurt being a priority. Barry didn’t want that; more rather, he didn’t want to be the one getting hurt again. Not only physically, but emotionally. The constant taunting from that afternoon to the next day of school drove his fury higher and higher as the fight got closer. He had planned to bring out this weapon to assure him getting the first, and only wounding blow. Barry expected to garner the same praise and excitement as Andy did, but he didn’t expect the amount of power he would exert into Andy’s head. He was left with a straight face, expecting some sort of response, hopefully positive.

The silence was broken by a crying child, followed by more crying and yelling, mostly directed at Barry, causing him to stay staring downwards. The kids are all shouting out loud, speaking over each other, followed by the crying. Faces of grief, sadness, laughter, shock, defeat, and anger all passed through the crowd. They started to run away, one after the next, doubling in how many would leave the fence each time. Some kids left to go and tattle to their parents about what the bad kid at their school did, while others simply left to avoid being caught. The kids too young to leave on their own followed their upperclassmen outside. The fences were too high to jump, so everyone had to bunch themselves outside the one gate, hurting each other’s shoulders with how cramped it was.

As Barry stood there, an older boy, a 4th grader, shoved him to the ground and punched his face with his palms—like open handed slaps but straight into the face—pushing his head deeper and deeper into the cold mound of snow. He was crying, but trying to hold back the tears with his intense face of anger and fury.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! DUMMY--STUPID, ASSHOLE FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" as he continues awkwardly raging against Boy B's face with slaps and palms beating his face. It was clear to Barry this was one of Andy’s friends, making him all the more offended that no one jumped in to criticize Andy’s unfair tactic of using unfair aggression to look better in front of the audience.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO DO THAT, AND YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM! YOU'RE BAD! BAD! BAD! YOU'RE BAD! EVIL!" The 4th grader’s friends sat by idly, watching as he took out his frustration. The words of “stop” or “let’s go” only came out halfway, stopping due to the kids believing that this was fair. A kid jumping in and attacking their friend’s murderer was more or less justified. This didn’t mean it was objectively justified, as Barry decided that he was being treated unfairly once again. He still had the weapon. His weapon of defense.

Barry almost dislocated his shoulder swinging his arm so harshly, but it made the big kid fly off of him into the snow. One of the girls there for the kid screamed crying out his name. The same menacing red came out, but the kid was able to stand. Fearing another bash in the head, he urged his friends to run away with him outside the fence. Barry saw this, still with his face of stillness. Then it hit him.

“NOOOO!” he cried. He ran after them, almost tripping in the snow a few times. As the friends left the cage, they slammed the gate behind them, looking straight into Barry’s face. With tears in their eyes, hatred in their expressions, they slapped him with disgusting descriptions, calling him evil, hated, creepy, just negatives to make him feel bad about himself. Mischievous, a word they had learned in class a few days prior. Although, the tone that the word harbors did not entirely fit in with the scenario.

"It wasn't even that serious! You had to be a big idiot about it and actually hurt him!"

"BUT HE HURT ME FIRST!" These were the first words to be spoken by Barry. "He made my nose bleed!”

In unison "No he didn't!"

"YES HE DID!!!" tears and spit flew out.

"You're making it up! No one ever actually hit you that hard! That was how the game went the whole time!" The "game", though it never felt that way after yesterday for Barry. Obviously, this game gave him enough fear to go out and get a weapon to secretly bring here to use. In his mind, his life was handed over to the game—more like a ritual—and he was about to die for it...in his mind. Parents, teachers, even his own house didn't exist because of this game. And why did he even join in this game in the first place?

"Just because Suzy Elmer talked to him instead of you, you had to fight over her! Nasty fucking pig!"

"But…” Who is Suzy Elmer?

There were sirens down the street blaring. They were accompanied by flashing red and blue over the white snow. Barry tries to remember why it got to this point. All he remembers is that he had to fight Andy every day after school. "You gotta hit him good this time! For Suzy Elmer!" But punches weren't ever landed. "Andy said he'll kiss your mom after Suzy Elmer if he wins this one!" But his mom lives far away in a different state. "If you don't win this time, I'll beat you up after! And Suzy Elmer is gonna see it!" But wasn't it just a game?

The sirens turned to conjoined footsteps. "Now they're after you, you ugly, evil monster! Now you can get killed from all the evil men in the world in jail!" They run away towards the police lights.

"NOOO, DON'T TELL THEM!" He tries his best to bury the weapon, bury the head of Andy Pieck, all in snow. His tears and snot are still flowing freely out. He tries to run, but he notices his footprints lead a red trail in the white snow, causing him to stop and scream, jumping up and down in frustration, knowing he can't leave without being followed. The fence is locked from the outside as well, so he couldn’t even leave if he wanted to.

He sees adults and feels more scared than protected. His stomps cause him to fall over in a show heap, unable to get out. This is it, he thinks to himself. He tries to ball up in his puffy coat to hide. Even if he sticks out like a sore thumb, it comforts him that he won't be able to see the men come to him. He hears them and starts to cry softly to himself. Hearing the footsteps, he hears a sharp "what the fuck?!" and footsteps all around, walking close and far. "Don't come over here." he repeats to himself, but he feels the footsteps around his snow heap, all motionless.

"Kid, come out," one officer says. The voice gets closer as if he bent over. "Get the fuck up!" followed by another officer's attempt at trying to calm him. Barry slowly peaks his head out of the jacket after being told to do so repeatedly.

"You need to tell us what happened here. What did you do?” The boy could only muster up one excuse for himself: "Suzy Elmer made me do it."