A Stinky Afternoon

Hugh slouched alone on the hard wooden bench in the boys’ locker room of Constance Middle School. The smells of sweat, dirty socks, and pee were hard to ignore. He was still in his damp gym clothes, and beads of sweat ran down his face, almost as if his body were crying from running the timed mile.

Hugh jumped at the sound of Tyler’s voice behind him, even though he wasn’t really surprised. It always happened after gym class, like clockwork.

“The garage code is zero, seven, zero, six. Then hit the pound sign, and it will open,” Tyler said. Hugh did not have to look to see who Tyler was talking to. No doubt he spoke to his cronies, Jake and Gavin. They followed Tyler everywhere.

Hugh felt Tyler’s breath, moist and sticky on the back of his neck—way worse than a sweater tag. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh saw the few other boys who had lockers near him grab their belongings and scamper away.

“Hey, Hugh, get a clue,” Tyler taunted.

Hugh tried to ignore Tyler by staring at the enormous paw print painted in gold on the black cement wall. The symbol of the Constance Cougars. A neon-pink paper sign, taped smack in the middle of the gold paw, declared the locker room a “No Bully Zone.” At the bottom, it read, “If you’re being bullied, talk to an adult.”

Yeah, right. Hugh barely talked to anyone. Besides, telling his parents would only make things worse.

“Hey, stick boy, give me those,” Tyler said, snatching Hugh’s jeans from the bench next to him. Tyler walked to a stall and plunged Hugh’s jeans into a nasty toilet someone had used but had not flushed. Tyler’s thugs, Jake and Gavin, laughed cruelly.

From behind lockers across the room, Hugh heard the gym teacher, Coach Ryan, scolding boys for snapping towels. Maybe one of these days Coach Ryan would catch Tyler in the act, but not today.

“Don’t forget, snitches get stitches, stick boy,” Tyler mocked as he walked away.

Hugh closed his eyes tightly. He imagined being Beast Boy, with the superpower to shapeshift into any animal. Hugh would morph into a cougar—the Constance cougar—king of the middle school. Hugh the cougar would growl, flash his sharp teeth, and swipe his clawed paw at Tyler. He wouldn’t hurt Tyler; he’d just teach him a lesson. He’d back Tyler into the stall until he fell into the muddy toilet, where Hugh’s jeans soaked now. Surely a dip in poop water would make Tyler stop picking on Hugh.

Hugh’s eyes flew open at the harsh shriek of the tardy bell for the next class. Tyler and his sidekicks were gone.

Hugh looked up. Fun fact: The cold steel locker in front of him had a number plate that read “0706”—just like Tyler’s garage code.

Hugh walked slowly to the stall. He gagged, tasting vomit in the back of his throat as he retrieved his wet, heavy jeans from the disgusting toilet. He stuffed them, dripping and dirty, into his duffel bag.

As Hugh walked to his next class, he thought of Pastor Stephie’s sermon from last Sunday. She said hurt people hurt people. Hugh wondered what the heck had happened to Tyler to make him so mean. According to Pastor Stephie, Hugh should pray for Tyler, since Jesus teaches to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. That felt like a stretch.

Hugh entered the social studies classroom. The teacher, Mrs. Nash, had a reputation for being as mean as a snake. Rumor had it she had marched students to the principal’s office for sneezing and issued detentions for hiccupping.

“Where is your tardy pass? And where are your street clothes?” Mrs. Nash asked. Her always-grumbling voice reminded Hugh of a volcano about to erupt.

Even with his head down, Hugh could feel the burn of the other students’ eyes on him as he stood silently before the class in his gym uniform.

It wasn’t fair, and it made Hugh furious. His hands shook. His cheeks burned. He pushed down a fierce impulse to grab his nasty jeans from his bag and throw them at her.

“Fine,” Mrs. Nash said, her voice cooler. “Have a seat, Hugh. And please see me after class.”

The kids snickered, except for one. Melissa, the girl with short, spiky black hair and sparkly blue cat-like glasses who sat behind Hugh, did not laugh.

“Hugh, is everything okay?” Mrs. Nash asked after class ended and the other kids had left. Words felt as far away as outer space. All Hugh could think about was spending the rest of the day in his gym clothes thanks to Tyler and being late for his next class thanks to Mrs. Nash.

“Hugh, I can’t help if I don’t know what the problem is,” she said. “I’m here if you want to talk. You’re dismissed.”

The problem? Try problems, plural, starting with the fact that Hugh had just bombed another social studies quiz. He had already given up on earning all A’s like he had in elementary school. So far in middle school, his grades had dropped like rocks.

Hugh had also given up on having friends. His best friend, Ben, had moved away over the summer. His other buddies from elementary school were not in any of his classes.

When Hugh started sixth grade, he had hoped to make new friends, but it wasn’t happening so far. Hugh didn’t know why. But for a while now, he had sensed a gap—some sort of difference—between himself and other kids. Sometimes the distance felt so great it was as if he stood on one rim of the Grand Canyon and everyone else stood on the other. Fun fact: At its widest, the Grand Canyon is about eighteen miles across as the crow flies.

It didn’t help that on the rare occasion Hugh tried to talk to the other kids, Tyler always seemed to turn up out of nowhere and bully him. Maybe the other kids tried to stay eighteen miles away too, because they didn’t want to be bullied either.

During a brutal first semester of middle school, Hugh had only looked forward to watching Georgia football games on television on Saturdays.

But now Hugh could look forward to later this afternoon, when he’d step off the school bus into winter break—into more than two glorious weeks without Tyler. Hugh could also look forward to Christmas. Hugh hoped somehow this would be the year he’d finally get a dog of his own. He desperately needed a friend.