He loved being a nuisance to those around him, or at least one of them, maybe he thought that hatred equaled fame. Or maybe it was because the other guys would cheer him on. Fame equals fame. And the others who didn’t face his wrath were oblivious to what kind of a person he was.

Maybe they did know but just didn’t care because that stuff would never happen to them. They were strong enough to talk back if he messed with them. Others weren’t.

Not me.

No one knew me at the time, it was my first and last year at that school.

First impressions do make a difference because he knew that I was a doormat. He knew that whatever he did, I’d never be able to say anything about it.

One time, the teacher left the classroom for about five minutes. I don’t remember why, not that it mattered. Clearly, you shouldn’t leave a class unattended because kids are animals. Or maybe that just applied to the kids at my school because a lot of them were horrible.

Within the first minute, he was jumping on the desks, beating his chest like a goddamn gorilla, and hollering as if the classes next door didn’t even exist. Then he started running around, once he was next to me he grabbed my head with both his hands and shook it back and forth like I was a damn bobblehead.

When a girl asked me if I was alright I said, “Yeah.” At least somebody there was decent.

While we were eating, he'd drink the cafeteria milk cartons like a slob and say, “I’m swallowing cum!” I didn’t know what that was. It sounded disgusting though.

He'd call my name at random times of the day, school, recess, whenever, just to mess with me. A few guys even joined in by the end of the year. I think they turned my name into some sort of joke.

When our class lined up to go anywhere, he’d purposely try to be the one who stood behind me and would annoy me in any way possible. He’d blow the back of my neck, poke my neck and back, step on the back of my shoes while I was walking, still hollering my name by the way.

I said nothing.

One time we were going to lunch, there was this fence we’d lined up beside. He cornered me to said fence and pressed his ass against me while moaning. I was eleven, I didn’t know what he was doing.

So I said nothing.

Before lunch he also hit me in the back of the head while running to his friend, it was definitely on purpose.

I said nothing.

I always said nothing.

And that’s how it’s been until I got out of there. I’m not sure what’s happened to him since then, I’m not sure if that guy has much redemption left in him though. I remember at the time I’d make up long scenarios in my head on his demise.

I’ll just go about my days pretending he got karma. He's the reason I refuse to believe that six grade boys are real people.