Standing in the damp morning air, anxiety washed over me at the rumbling of the school bus echoing through the valley. I stood up tall with mock confidence as the bus rounded the last bend at the crest of the hill. The yellow, steel monster bumped and creeped toward me. It stopped at my driveway, and the driver opened the doors, a mouth into which I passed through with great unease. Why did my parents force me to face this obnoxious creature every day? Why couldn't they drop me off at school on their way to work? Their insistence that I ride the bus was akin to child abuse. They had no idea how torturous this was for me.

I slunk into the second seat behind the driver. It looked like a massive black tooth ready to chomp me to bits. The breath inside the monster's mouth was hot and nauseating. I smelled mustard; I smelled wet feet; I smelled sweat and rubber and diesel fumes. I hoped I could make it all the way to school without puking.

Resting my head on the back of the seat, I tried to relax. A hum of noise came from the back of the monster's throat. Chatter and arguing and singing echoed to the front and surrounded me like a gang of thieves ready to attack. My temples began to throb.

All of a sudden, the bus went silent. Muscles in my arms and legs tightened, and my stomach did a somersault. Something was happening back there, but I could not turn around. If I did, everyone would know that I had noticed. There was some shuffling noise behind me, a few grunts, and a thump. Someone had just sat down in the next seat back. My spine
straightened, and I went on alert, bracing myself for the onslaught. It didn't take long.

It started out the usual way. Mary and Tawnya, two of my closest friends in elementary school, for no reason that I could tell, both decided that instead of being my friend, it would be more fun to make me the object of their cruel entertainment every day on the bus ride to school. They recruited two additional torturers from the grade behind us, Lisa and Julie. The four of them would sit somewhere behind me and talk to each other in voices loud enough for me to hear.

"What is that smell?" Mary asked.

Loud sniffing ensued. "It smells like..." (Long pause) "fish," declared Tawnya.

Lisa chimed in. "Let's help her. She probably doesn't realize that fish goes great with tartar sauce!"

I felt a soft thud in the back of my head. I was afraid to reach back to discover what they had thrown at me. Last week, it was wads of chewed gum, every day, slung into my hair. I did what my mother told me to do, and I ignored the assaults. When they got off the bus at school, I stayed behind and ripped each piece of gum from my head, hair and all, every... single... day. After the first two days, I didn't bother telling my parents anymore, and I definitely did not tell the bus driver or principal. I was humiliated. The embarrassment of reporting the incidents was way worse than the incidents themselves, so I just dealt with it on my own. Apparently, I didn't deal with it very effectively, because they had moved onto other things now. What, I was scared to find out.

Satisfied that they had achieved their goal, the band of bullies left me alone for the last 15 minutes of the trip. It gave me time to form a plan. Obviously, ignoring them was not going to suffice.

Okay, I had tried my mom's idea. Now it was time to try my dad's. I had to stand up to them! They left me no choice. By the time we reached the gymnasium doors to unload into the school, my hands were balled into tight fists and my teeth were clenched in a sincere effort to hold in the rage I felt.

I turned my back toward the aisle so no one could see what I was doing, and reached back to evaluate the damage. They had thrown a tartar sauce soaked bun into my hair. It was all over the back of my head, and I had no idea how I was going to clean up the mess before class started. I had decided that the next time one of them even breathed funny toward me, I was going to kick some major butt! It didn't take long to see if I had the guts to pull it off.

After dashing to the girls locker room where my physical education teacher helped me to remove the mess from my hair, I hurried to homeroom just in time before the late bell rang. I had a short break, as none of the mean girls were in my homeroom. I seethed alone in the back of the class, oblivious to everything going on around me. I used my time wisely, remembering every single thing they had put me through: the gum in my hair, the tartar sauce today, the name-calling and accusations and taunts they pelted at me constantly, and the rumors they started to circulate about me throughout the eighth grade hallways.

When the bell rang to release us to our first period class, I was psyched up and ready to rumble. Go ahead, bitches, make my day!

I grabbed my books from my locker and started to Mr. Bunesicky's geography class. And here it came. Someone was walking behind me stepping on the backs of my Nikes so they would come off my feet. I ignored it the first time in case it was an accident. Then, it happened a second time. I stopped dead in my tracks and spun around to face the idiot that thought they were so funny.

I was face to breasts with Julie from the bus. At only 4'10" tall and 90 pounds, most people were taller than I, and Julie was not only taller but wider. I must be insane to challenge her, but I was done being pushed around.

In contrast to my anger, I calmly said, "If you step on my shoes one more time, I am kicking your ass." Then I raised my eyebrows at her in challenge and continued on my way to class.

I tried to look cool and collected, but inside I was fuming! I knew instinctively that she was going to step on my shoe again, and I knew that I had to follow through with my threat. My stomach was fluttering like I had swallowed a bat and rolling around like a clothes dryer tumbling a load of sneakers. My hands trembled with frustration and anger, making it difficult for me to carry my books. Julie solved that problem for me. She stepped on my shoe, and I threw my books and purse to the side of the hallway. In the same motion, I whirled and punched her square in the side of her face.

I heard a boy yell, "Fight!" Julie was caught off guard, as I had never stood up for myself before now. She put her hands up to defend her head. I tackled her to the floor.

"I... told... you... to... stop!" I bellowed throwing a punch with each word. I did not make contact every time since she was attempting to fight back, but it was enough for everyone to know I meant business, especially Julie.

I was sitting on top of her pinning her to the floor as she struggled and kicked and tried to grab my hair. We were surrounded by other students who were loud with excitement, enjoying the novelty of a girl fight. People were actually cheering me on, and I heard my name called out several times in support. I even thought I heard the base voice of an adult saying, "Get her, Leann!" The encouragement energized me. For the most part, I managed to stay away from her defensive strikes, but she was able to scratch the side of my face and knee my back.

Suddenly, I felt my body hefted into the air. An unfamiliar teacher had me in a bear hug as he lifted my flailing body off of Julie. I stilled, he put my feet on the floor, and he held my arm as he guided me to the principal so I could receive my punishment for fighting.

Boys and girls parted as if I were a rockstar, and showed their support and admiration with pats on the back, smiles, and verbal kudos, all the way to Dr. White's office. My adrenaline still coursed through my body which made me feel shaky. I had trouble catching my breath. I felt a little dizzy. But also, I felt big pride. I stood straight and as tall as my 4'10" frame would allow, smiling back at my peers as I passed them.

The bullying I had been receiving from Mary, Tanya, Lisa, and Julie had created an insecurity in me. I believed that my schoolmates, all of them, did not like me. I had started to think that I was really all the things the four girls said I was: stinky, ugly, stupid, gross, unlovable. Those insecurities melted away as I realized how many of my classmates were on my side.

I was suspended for three days for fighting. I had an ugly scratch on my cheek. My favorite shirt was missing a button. But still, the day was wonderful.

I found out later that Mr. Bunesicky was the adult male voice I heard cheering me on during the fight. It turns out that I was not the only student being bullied by this group. I was unaware that they had been wreaking havoc on several victims whom they perceived to be weaker than they. The teachers, as well as their other victims, looked at me as a sort of hero who finally stopped this particular group of bullies for good.

For the remainder of my high school career, Mr. Bunesicky called me "Rocky." I never rekindled any kind of friendship with any of the girls, but none of them ever bothered me again.