The Bully Gone Home: A Work of Sudden Fiction
I see him in the halls everyday. I don't know why I can't stay away from him, but there's just something about his face that's so...punchable. I know I'd get in trouble for doing that, though, so I just stick with yelling shit out at him. I usually use names, I mean I don't know his real name, it's like Wang or Yang or something that rhymes with that.
And now, Mr. A wants me to tutor him because I'm the best student in his pre-calc class. Ain't that backwards, Mr. A? I thought them Asian kids were supposed to be good at math. I don't even know how I'm going to communicate with this kid, for all I know he can't even pronounce his own name right in English, let a lone hold a coherent conversation on functions. But hey, Mr. A says that he'll talk to coach for me and help get me back on the team after the little incident that happened with Ang in the locker room at try-outs, so if it means I can play baseball again, then I'll do it. I don't even know what he was doing there. I don't think any of us have ever heard him speak, and then he decides he's gonna come out and be the next Ichiro? Well, he must be. He made the team.
So I walk into the coffee shop downtown that Mr. A told me to meet him at, conveniently located right next door to the Peking Garden restaurant- I wonder why we're not meeting there? Probably cause Mr. A didn't want me to meet Ang's parents, ha! But there he is, on time and sitting at a table. He speaks to me first, and I'm shocked. "Hey Kevin, let's just get this over with. I just need to get a C so I can keep playing baseball." Woah. Ang sounds like...an American.
"Dude, where'd you learn to talk like that?" I just can't believe the sound that came out of his mouth. There's gotta be someone behind him. Where's Ashton Kuthcer?
"Kansas City...where I was born."
That can't be true. I'm from Kansas City. Kid's like him, who look like him, aren't from Kansas City. They can't be. But I just need to think about that sweet sound of my aluminum bat smacking the ball, and Ang can look on in awe and a true KC kid.
"I chink we need to start with chapter 5," I say, snickering at my own pun. But he doesn't. He gets up, and storms out, using some colorful language towards me on his way out. And there goes my last chance at baseball this year. Was it something I said? Kid needs to get a sense of humor if he's ever going to be a true American, gotta stop being so stoic. But I guess that's just who his people are, huh?
And now, Mr. A wants me to tutor him because I'm the best student in his pre-calc class. Ain't that backwards, Mr. A? I thought them Asian kids were supposed to be good at math. I don't even know how I'm going to communicate with this kid, for all I know he can't even pronounce his own name right in English, let a lone hold a coherent conversation on functions. But hey, Mr. A says that he'll talk to coach for me and help get me back on the team after the little incident that happened with Ang in the locker room at try-outs, so if it means I can play baseball again, then I'll do it. I don't even know what he was doing there. I don't think any of us have ever heard him speak, and then he decides he's gonna come out and be the next Ichiro? Well, he must be. He made the team.
So I walk into the coffee shop downtown that Mr. A told me to meet him at, conveniently located right next door to the Peking Garden restaurant- I wonder why we're not meeting there? Probably cause Mr. A didn't want me to meet Ang's parents, ha! But there he is, on time and sitting at a table. He speaks to me first, and I'm shocked. "Hey Kevin, let's just get this over with. I just need to get a C so I can keep playing baseball." Woah. Ang sounds like...an American.
"Dude, where'd you learn to talk like that?" I just can't believe the sound that came out of his mouth. There's gotta be someone behind him. Where's Ashton Kuthcer?
"Kansas City...where I was born."
That can't be true. I'm from Kansas City. Kid's like him, who look like him, aren't from Kansas City. They can't be. But I just need to think about that sweet sound of my aluminum bat smacking the ball, and Ang can look on in awe and a true KC kid.
"I chink we need to start with chapter 5," I say, snickering at my own pun. But he doesn't. He gets up, and storms out, using some colorful language towards me on his way out. And there goes my last chance at baseball this year. Was it something I said? Kid needs to get a sense of humor if he's ever going to be a true American, gotta stop being so stoic. But I guess that's just who his people are, huh?