“YOWWWWWWWWW!”
That’s me, Jack Harmon, screaming my head off. I was on the school bus, heading home, howling in pain. As usual.
You would scream, too, if Mick Owens had you in an armlock. Mick shoved my arm up behind me till I heard my bones and muscles snap and pop.
“YOWWWWWWW!” I repeated.
Nothing new here. Big Mick and his friend Darryl “The Hammer” Oliva like to beat me up, tease and torture me on the bus every afternoon.
Last week, our sixth-grade teacher, Miss Harris, had a long, serious talk in class about bullying. I guess Mick and Darryl were out that day.
Otherwise, they would know that bullying is bad.
Why do they do it? Because I’m smaller than them? Because I’m a skinny little guy who looks like a third-grader? Because I scream easily?
No.
These two super-hulks like to get up in my face because it’s FUN.