Silence

The words hurt.

I can feel them.

Although they are not directed at me, my skin still itches from the sting.

They surround him.

They know they are stronger.

Faster.

Bigger.

They yell and laugh and mock him.

They say things one dares not repeat unless it is in the whispered gossip during passing time or the edge-of-your-seat table chats during lunch.

Rumors.

Lies.

Punches.

Who cares what the difference is?  They throw them all with abandon.

People slowly gather around, leaning against lockers and watching from afar.

They do not even have the decency to at least pretend to not be looking on with interest.

But who am I to talk?  I am standing here with my white fists clinging to my biology book and watching just like the rest of them, aren't I?

The kid seems to have given up, realizing long ago that peers and teachers alike risk little in the social ladder.

He wonders how he let himself get dragged down to the bottom rung in the first place.

The bullies are relentless, dishing out what no one has dared to serve back to them.

They say something about his clothes.

His home.

His family.

We all know it is not true.

I want to say something.

Anything.

The words are right there, stuck to my tongue.

But so is my doubt.

My fear.

So I remain silent, just like everyone else.

My shame screams in my ears like my footsteps as I walk away.