Across from the main entrance of my high school is what students refer to as “The Hill”; an off-campus street with about three decrepit homes where students who could not find a spot on at school grounds (and were too stubborn get a ride that morning) parked.
The school warned students not to park there as it was not under it’s carefully guarded jurisdiction.
The plan was for my friend Tracey to drive me from the campus parking lot to get my car, which naturally, was parked at The Hill that day.
I didn’t get my license until October of senior year, so fuck it, I was driving everywhere.
As Tracey and I walked to her car in the senior parking lot, I literally felt the sense of impending doom kick me in the balls.
I couldn’t help but notice a beaten-up compact parked haphazardly in the middle of the lot.
“THERE HE IS!”
Immediately, what seemed like eight hoodlums, (with Blind Kid in tow) emerged from the shit-box on wheels in full attack mode.
These kids (men) charged at me while simultaneously hurling insults:
“WHAT NIGGA? SPIT IN MY FACE NIGGA?
“WHAT U GONNA DO U RICH FAGGOT?”
The phalanx surrounded me, with the Blind Kid in front, confident among his derelict goons.
“YOU SPIT IN MY BOY’S FACE?" One of the degenerates barked.
He was the only other one I recognized.
He had graduated the year prior.
I was glad to see he was doing well.
I put my hands up and took a deep breath.
“Listen, I was looking for him…I was gonna apologize, it was wrong and stup-”
I immediately felt the sting of a right hand against my face.
I guess they didn’t want the day to be a total loss.
As I got shoved against the chain link fence that surrounded the lot, I heard an elderly assistant teacher scold the savages.
“STOP! YA GONNA GET SUSPENDED!!” She warned them.
“THEY NOT STUDENTS, YOU DUMB BITCH!” I managed to reply.
Even in the heat of battle, I maintain high spirits.
The former Jericho student kicked me in the abdomen and my knees buckled.
As I proceeded to get stomped out I looked up and noticed a girl from school cheering the men on. I think she was the ex-student’s girlfriend or something.
I guess she was the Taylor Swift in the bleachers. I then felt the precipitation of 6 underprivileged kids' saliva hit my face and neck.
Finally, some fellow students (who I am eternally grateful towards, Mosie I see you.) broke up the scene.
I dusted myself off and watched the goon-squad flee, still shouting from their jalopy. One of them called me a “pussy-ass -bitch nigga” or something of the sort.
Tracey asked if I wanted to go to my car. I told her no, I had better plans.
I kicked open the door of Ms. Boyles office.
It would have been awesome to catch her snorting cocaine or fucking a student, but she was just on her computer. She noticed my bewilderment.
“YOU’RE GONNA SUSPEND ME? WELL I JUST GOT JUMPED ON YOUR FUCKING CAMPUS.”
“What? Who did it?”
“I don’t know...a bunch of mexicans…I think…the blind kid was there…But WHAT THE FUCK??”
Ms. Boyle took out her trusty walkie-talkie.
“I want a search of campus grounds for any unauthorized persons”
The walkie began to garble something back.
“Um...There’s a bunch of kids surrounding Evan Krumholz’s car on The Hill”
“WHAT THE FUCK BOYLE???”
My stomach was literally attempting to secede from my body.
“Calm down,” she said. We’re gonna have to call your parents, Matthew and-
“”The blind kid’, Evan, ‘the blind kid’…and the police”
As I sat in Boyle’s office waiting for the other guests to arrive, I closed my eyes and mentally rewound the events of the day. I also added cool bonus features, like audio commentary!
Why the fuck did I ever listen to Niles?
What was I trying to prove?
Why did that kid keep calling me a “rich, pussy ass nigga” when I’m clearly Caucasian and upper-middle class?
Every few minutes I’d feel my inner thigh buzz from text messages like:
“yooo WTF happened??”
“hahahahahhaha YO U FINALLY STOOD UP FOR URSELF MANN!!”
I was too embarrassed to reply to them.
Then my dad entered the room.
The man who had invested immeasurable time, money and energy to raise me to be a respectful and compassionate human being now had the privilege of hearing just how his failed experiment of a son dehumanized a disabled person.
I kept my head down.
When Mrs. Boyle went to get the Blind Kid and the cops from downstairs my Dad looked at me, arms outstretched and in a hushed tone whispered,
“What the fuck…on Rosh Hashanah? The fuck, Evan”
Oh! That’s right, tonight we were to eat dinner with family friends to celebrate the Jewish New Year. Well, I guess “Don’t spew expectorate in blind kids’ faces is my number one resolution…”
The police escorted Stevie Wonder into the room.
Essentially, we did a cop-dictated “Now shake hands!” and swore there would be no further retaliation.
We both received no disciplinary action, and I refused to press charges.
“It’s a raw deal, it’s but a fair deal” Boyle said.
I thought about the raw deal I’d like to give her.
So that was that. There was no retaliation and I never saw him again.
Clearly, he never saw me again.
However, the girl who cheered on my beating would make loogie-hocking noises at me when I’d walk by in the hall…..and that always kind of frightened me.
The rest of that day was a blur. I saw my psychologist (finally I had shit to talk about) and ate Rosh Hashanah dinner at the Rosenfeld's in silence.
I had my man-moment.
It lasted only a...yea you got it.
But I forever know how asinine such a display is.
Since, I have resisted the "Bro I'll snuff you out" talk.
because I actually did get snuffed.
and spat on.
and called the n-word
About a week ago, I was in a bar and I saw a kid who wronged me in the past. I wanted to break a bottle over his head but I resisted. Who knows, he could have had autism or something.
The End, you faggot!