Tracing an Echo

"I want to fight you," she said.

It was early morning. I just had walked off the bus and into the school. For some reason, I was walking in line, heading to class, and behind a boy. He stopped, making me stop, and the girl stood to my left. "I want to fight you," she said to me.

I was like a deer caught in headlights. The boy in front of me smiled with anticipation. The girl laughed, but she was serious. I remained still, hoping to pass them, but the hall was crowded. The boy blocked my way, and he wasn't moving. And she edged closer.

It was my senior year of high school. Usually, the seniors were left alone, or we were doing the fighting. This girl, this boy was younger than me, and I had never seen them before until this day. Maybe they knew each other. Maybe they set this up, but why me? I was a senior. Who the hell were they?

Neither one budged. The boy looked on, hoping for a brawl. The girl edged closer, repeating her words. I had no words to give. I just stared at them, hoping for them to move out of my way. I had no time for this, for them. I was going to be late for class because these two jokers were trying to make a name for themselves, and if I was who I am today, I would've wiped the floor with both of them. In that moment of time though, I wasn't.

Finally, the boy moved out of my way. He was disappointed. I made no remark. My hands remained at my side. Impatience shined in my eyes. The girl literally stood on top of me, but she made no forceful move. The kids in this hall were notorious for tripping me, elbowing my sides, pulling my hair, knocking the books out of my arms, an endless barrage of assaults, but she used her words as a weapon. And they failed to cut me open.

As I walked past them and down the hall, I knew they remained behind. I didn't look over my shoulder to know that they were watching me. I knew they were satisfied. They thought they had won without fighting first. They thought they had scared me, but I felt no fear. They felt mighty, but who was the senior? Me or them? The kids in this hall always thought of me as a joke, but they were the joke instead. Going through life, tearing people down, making themselves feel better was a tactic used in the real world, on the roadways, and even in a mall or grocery store. Angry wagon barons that run your foot over or people looking to start a fight were on the menu almost every day, and this girl, that boy were no different. They just targeted me.

I thought about that moment in time. I thought about it today. I could have punched her in the face. I could have hit him, but what would've been the point? They still would've won. They wanted to feel mighty. They wanted to tear me down. They probably do those childish games today, filling a hole that would never be filled, but the joke is on them. I have no void but the demons that I carry, but I do not need to play their games. Not anymore because I know better.

Still, that image remained. A girl stood behind a boy. Another girl turned at the right moment. Everyone in the hall paused, waiting, anticipating. Class was ready to start, but so were they. "I want to fight you," she said. "I want to fight you," her words forever an echo across my life.