The Bully and The Bullied

We all hate bullies, don't we? But we have never given much thought to WHY exactly they like bullying. No one is born a bully - it's spite, anger, hatred and pain that creates one. *This is my entry for the new competition. I've written this from both the perspectives - the bully and the bullied. Hope you enjoy it.* ^_^


1. My Lame Life - Jimmy

Every high school across the globe is just the same - you'll find a popular clique of girls whose lives are all about bitching and fussing over makeup; then you'll find a gang of bullies with iron-like knuckles that they use to punch their supposed inferiors; and then you'll find people like me - scrawny little geeks wearing oversize glasses and spending their entire lives hiding out from gym class and the larger kids.

So you get the basic picture, don't you? Hooray.

All right, then, yet another person who'll laugh at me and mock me once I am done with my story. I've had enough of that in these thirteen years of my life. I don't really think it will bother me. Everybody does it at school, after all...

Okay, my name is James Smith- but of course, nobody calls me that. At that hellhole named 'school', people know me as 'Jimmy Smith', all thanks to my mother, whose idea of showing affection involves hugging me in public and screaming my nickname at the top of her voice for everybody to hear. Honestly, I don't have a problem with the name Jimmy. Lots of people are called that. But when the kids at school say it, there's this sort of unmistakable mockery in their voices that I can't really help but detest my own name.

I moved to Texas just about a year ago and it's remarkable how popular I have become at Springfield High School in such less time as the 'puny guy with a nasty accent'. I'm British in origin, and yes I do have an accent. But so what? What's wrong with the British accent anyway? I tried to get rid of it at first when the taunting at school became too much to handle, but it just ended up sounding nastier. So I gave up. There's nothing I can do about it now, really.

I got up early today to finish my chemistry homework. That's something I would get teased for (again) if anybody at school found out. I'm already called all sorts of names just because I know the periodic table by heart. They think I do it for attention. Oh, but they don't say that when they want me to do their homework for them, of course. Honestly, how can they even think I need attention after all the hitting and name-calling they already offer to me in public. I get that a lot, you know. I don't even know why - just because I happen to be good at something they're not. Well, great. I didn't know that was a crime.

I got dressed for school while imagining all the creative ways of bullying my schoolmates would have thought up for me today. Another thing they never fail to notice is how 'uncool' my dressing sense is. Hey, I'm not a girl! Why would anybody care about what I'm wearing? It was so much better at my old school in Britain where we had uniforms. No such pressure there. But even so, I doubt whether any guy at school gives so much thought to what he wants to wear everyday. Then why me? I guess, just because it's fun for them. Pick on the puny new guy just for a laugh. That's what the Springfield High School motto should be.

"Jimmy, don't you want to have breakfast?" Mum called out to me as I tried to make my way towards the door without being noticed. Obviously, I failed. 

", Mum, I think I should get going. I'm running late." Truth is, I wasn't. I just wanted to get out of the house without her seeing me leave. I knew she would offer to drive me to school like always, which (again) would be a good excuse for those bullies to taunt me.

"Alright, I'm driving you then." There! Not again! I wish I could figure out a way to say this to her without hurting her feelings. But how can you say something like that to your mother and expect to be welcome at home in the evening when you return. I gulped. If she disowns me and leaves me on the streets, imagine what fun those kids at school will have, exchanging stories about how little Jimmy Smith is homeless. No way, I'm not letting that happen. So I chose to endure whatever fresh hell they would have in store for me today, and let Mum drive me to school.

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