AI generated picture
“Touch me again!” Ajade threatened. “I'm not that child you used to beat anymore.”
The fat, bulky boy in front of him shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, eyeing the audacity possessed by this frail-looking boy in front of him. A year ago, the boy wouldn't dare revolt against him when bullied, but now, he stood oozing so much confidence, staring straight into his eyes defiantly as if ready to gorge his eyes out if he dared to lift a finger. The fat boy smirked, trying hard to hide his fear.
“You want to punch me?” He said edging closer with a dry, sinister chuckle. “Who knows what might happen to those fingers of yours if you throw the first punch.” He threatened. But Ajade didn't flinch.
They were standing under a Neem tree at the school playground; a few rusty swings decorated the open area, swinging and squeaking softly from the push and pull of the afternoon breeze. A merry-go-round stood beside them, and now and then, the breeze picked up some dust from the ground to their faces, passing just close enough for them to hear the whooshing sound.
Ajade waved off some dust with a hand and said “Touch me again, I dare you!” He was fully prepared to either beat up the boy in front of him or get beaten up.
His oppressor edged closer, breathing heavily as if about to pick him up from the ground with one swoop. He lifted a hand, but before he could grab the boy, a punch landed in between his eyes. It was blinding, excruciating. He doubled over immediately, yelping in pain.
“You've broken my nose!” He cried.
“Serves you right!” Ajade retorted, don't you ever bully me again, ever!” And with that, he ran off.
A few minutes later, a disheveled-looking kunle sauntered lazily into the class with a bleeding nose. Miss Dabi, their English teacher was scribbling on the board, talking about verbs. She turned and gasped; Kunle could hear the whole class gasp, too.
“What happened to you?” She asked, rushing to him.
Kunle searched the faces in the class and his eyes rested on a familiar face. It was the face of his enemy, sitting quietly at the back of the class, unperturbed. Kunle suddenly realized that if he told his teacher about what happened, he would get punished for all the bullying he had meted out on Ajade since fourth grade. So he turned sadly to his teacher, and with that sinking feeling in his chest, which felt like someone drowning at the bottom of a river, he said, “I hit my nose against a tree,” with tears running down his eyes.
“Oh dear, don't cry,” Miss Dabi said, “Come now, let me take you to the clinic,” with that she led him out, and the usually lively fifth grade suddenly fell silent. All eyes turned to the red-headed boy sitting behind, close to the window. But Ajade sat there on his seat, unflinching, ready to defend himself again if his oppressor ever returned.
