The day was humid, the wet heat had been getting to me, but this was not in my game plan, the sound of kids around me had abruptly stopped, I heard Hunter yell something but I couldn’t quite make it out. I could feel myself falling backwards, the fist had just left the side of my cheek. I could feel rage, anger, sadness, hurt, and about a hundred other emotions were spiraling through my body. I could feel every bit of rage tearing away from me, wanting to leave the shell of my body and live as it’s own person, and I was ready to let it out.

It had all started on a Monday, a few days earlier. My bestfriend Hunter and I were sitting on one of the playground walls, watching the kids below play soccer, or baseball, or whatever sport they were going to play today. Hunter was just a bit younger than me, onlyby a few months. I still remember his gelled up hair, making the front stick up like a porcupine. He wore big glasses, a perfect subject to bring upon teasing from the other kids. I guess that’s why we were friends, both of us were outcasts, but we didn't care, we were used to it by now. I remember watching the time, knowing the moment the fourth graders came out; it was time to hide.

Back then, there was a bully, and his name was Brandon. I can still remember that big smiley grin he had right before he threw you to the ground. He was tall, even for a fourth grader. He has long skinny arms, and didn't look that threatening. What made him scary were the four or five, second and third graders that worshiped him like he was Gande. I remember his dirty black hair, and his pallid blue eyes. He used them to rule the playground, anyone who disobeyed him were dragged off behind the wooden half of the playground, where no teachers could see, and they were beaten down by all five of them. Their numbers made them strong, but if I would’ve known I was going to be the last one they’d ever fight, I woulda’ jumped in there the first day I met them.

I heard the third bell ring, the fourth graders started to flood into the playground like water into a cup. “Time for hide and seek” I joked.Hunter and I had our own spot. In between two of the towers on the wooden playground, there was a small area that you could slide into, no one would see you, so we always camped out there, watching through the cracks. I spotted Brandon first, walking towards the wooden playground, the old school one that looked like a castle. Then, I saw him. Little Tony, he was my age, deep green eyes, blonde hair, and a scar across the side of his head. He was smaller than the rest of us, but he was fast, and loved soccer more than anyone else. He was walking with his twin sister, Mira. She had long blonde hair, her skin was a bit paler than Tony’s. I remember she didn’t have very many friends, she was made fun of for her eyes. They were a bright violet. I thought they were cool, but like everyone else in our school that was different, they were outcasted as if they were plagues with some horribe disease

I knew something bad was going to happen, Tony was walking up to Brandon, his chest was puffed up, and he had determination in his eyes, but with his size, he looked like a chihuahua barking at a big wroughtweiler. Too bad Brandon didn't fight that way. Brandon spartan kicked him in the stomach, hurling him to the ground, where two others proceeded to hold him down. I remember hearing Hunter turn around, making sure not to watch, but my eyes were glued to the fight. They had turned him onto his stomach, and pulled his arms up, where Brandon proceeded to place his foot between Tony’s shoulder blades, pushing down, while they pulled up on his arms. It made me feel sick, a weird kind of sick that made my head hurt. It felt like my throat was collapsing in on itself, felt like I was about to upchuck my throat itself.

I heard  someone yell behind me, and saw one of Brandon’s second graders waving over. They had a look out, so someone must have gotten a teacher. That wasn't gonna do anything, they had a system, someone played look out, while Brandon beat up anyone who didn't listen to him, and when the look out spotted something, they’d yell over to Brandon. He’d throw them into the slide, and act natural, so when someone accused him of something, it looked like they were lying. Like always, that worked the charm. The teacher scolded the kid who told on Brandon, and walked off to watch the other kids. I heard the final bell ring, which is when the second graders went back inside.

“Dash time...” I’d say, and Hunter and I would split out, unseen, from our hiding place, and take off full sprint towards the doors. The rest of the day I would think about Tony, how much pain he was in, how sad he and his sister were. I couldn’t stand it. I remember going to bed that night, staring at my ceiling, thinking of ways to fight back to Brandon. I figured they were just happy thoughts, who would’ve known.

The next day was practically a repeat of the last, but with a new victim. I looked for Tony before the third bell would ring, making sure he wasn't near Brandon when they came out, but him and his sister were nowhere to be found. So Hunter and I went back to our hiding spot, and bunkered down til the last bell rang. That was just our routine. I can remember days where we almost fell asleep in there, and missed the bell to go in. It wasn't til Thursday that we saw Tony again. He was sitting on an end of the wooden playground, watching the doors to the school, like he was waiting for someone to come out.

The third bell rang and he got to his feet. I thought he was going to hide, but I had realized what he was doing. He was going to stand up to Brandon again. Hunter pulled me to our hiding spot, and we watched from the small crack. Watching Tony stand up, like he was able to take on the world, watching Brandon see him, and a sly smile came across his face.

The next few minutes felt like a blur, Brandon towering over Tony, Tony getting kicked to the ground, and a fist, readied to be dyed red. I was on my feet, slipping out of my hiding spot, sliding under the railing of the bridge, which shook with every quick step that collided with it. I remeber me yelling, but everything was a blurred, like I was the Flash, and my senses were still back in the hiding hole, watching this from safety. My fist collided with Brandon’s arm, and bounced off harmlessly.

I started throwing bullet like punches, left and right into Brandon’s chest, each one sinking in, doing absolutely nothing, as if he were made of kevlar. He grabbed me by the shoulders, with vicegrip hands, and threw me to the ground. The adrenaline and courage in me seeping out of the holes in which his bullet like laughs had made in me. I was so angry, afraid, sad, and a million other feelings that made me feel like a puzzle with no parts that could connect.

“Tough guy”, “Superman”, “Such a hero”, They all called me something, sarcasm drowning their words like syrup on my pancakes. I was broken.

“Least he tried” A voice said behind me. I turned to see the little blonde haired boy, getting up, purpose in his eyes, and anger in his being. Tony had still not had enough. He still looked like he’d take on the world with an iron fist. He had reminded me of my favorite greek hero, Leonidas. With a spear and shield in his hands, he could take on a million Persians, even if death found him in the end.

I got to my feet. Anger refilling my body like a new battery had been put in. I stared down at Brandon, drowning out his words as he laughed and joked at my expense.

“That all you got freakshow?” I called at him.

He looked in my direction, his joking smile turned into a scowl. He walked up to me. I could hear his muscles tighten around. It felt like something took over. I smiled, everything in me started laughing like this was the funniest joke in the world.

I can remember my attitude causing him to recoil a bit, but then he whipped his fist out, and it made contact with my temple, knocking me down, my head aching and pulsing from the blood flow. I got up again, and wanting to stand my ground, just like Tony. Brandon didn't have time to deal with both of us.

Insult after insult, getting thrown to the ground over and over, it felt like it took hours, and then, eventually, he gave up. He scowled, and gave out a yell that sounding like a roar, then marched away. Steam no doubt coming from his ears.

I felt like a hero, but not even ten minutes later, I was in the office, waiting to go into the principal's office. I was in a fight, victim or criminal, it didn’t matter. I wasn't tired, or exhausted, but each breath felt like a refreshing jumpstart.

The principal had me in detention for the rest of the day, but I didn't mind, I had did something that needed to be done. Even if I had been wounded in the process. Little scars covered my arms, one of my nails were bleeding, and I had scuffed my knee. The crimson red being like a flame of victory to me, it gave me hope, and burned like no tomorrow.

The next day, Brandon stayed to himself, keeping away from anyone, I should have felt bad for him, but I was young, and I laughed at how much he deserved it. I walked down to the playground to find Hunter, but before I could, a small kid, walked up to me, he had blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a grin on his face. A girl with the same hair and smile, with violet eyes watching me with curiosity from behind him.

Tony smiled, then ran off to the playground, holding his arms out, pretending he was a plane. His sister followed him close behind, looking back at me, smiling. I still wish I would’ve known how important that day was then, so I could savor every second of those two smiles as they ran off.