I Taught My Brother's Bully a Lesson

At dinner, I had just cut into my chicken leg when my brother suddenly pointed at my nose and yelled:

What gives you the right to eat my chicken leg?! You're a girlyou don't deserve the chicken leg!

Without thinking, I kicked out.

He went flying, chair and all, crashing to the floor.

Mom and Dad dropped their forks in shock.

Before Riley could get up, I planted my foot on his chest.

Pinned to the ground, he stared up at me, stunned silent.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?"

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

I pressed down harder with my foot."Who taught you that?"

Riley burst into tears, sobbing hysterically. "I was wrong! I was wrong!"

I didn't move my foot, staring down at him. "Say it!"

Riley's legs kicked wildly as he choked on his sobs. "Derek Walsh... Marcus and Jason... they all said..."

"Said what?"

Riley went silent. I applied more pressure.

"I'll tell you!" he wailed. "They said I was pathetic, worse than a girl, that only a worthless loser would let his own sister boss him around, that I wasn't a real man..."

I slowly lifted my foot.

The room went quiet for a few seconds. Mom stood nearby, still holding the broom she'd grabbed to clean up the mess, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. Dad walked over and crouched in front of Riley.

"Riley, tell Dadhow do they treat you normally?"

Riley sniffled, too scared to speak. Dad didn't push, just stayed crouched there, waiting.

"...They push me around," Riley finally said, covering his face, voice barely above a whisper. "They say I'm so useless I must be a girl, so when I use the bathroom they block the door and won't let me out. They like to pull down my pants and laugh at me... Derek makes me do his homework, or else he beats me up... I... I can't fight them... I'm sorry..."

Mom lifted Riley up tenderly, wiping his tears.

Dad stood, his face dark with anger. "Tomorrow I'm going to your school to talk to your homeroom teacher."

Riley froze, tears streaming down his face again.

"But Riley," Dad looked at him, "there's something you need to understand."

Riley sniffed, looking at Dad in confusion.

"How other families live is their business. In our family, if Madison wants to eat chicken, she eats chicken. If you want chicken, you eat chicken. It has nothing to do with whether you're a boy or a girl. Understand?"

Riley nodded, then shook his head. "But... but they all say..."

Mom wiped away his fresh tears, saying gently:

"What other people say isn't always right. I know a bit about Derek's familyhe has three older sisters and him, and those sisters are treated worse than animals. That family isn't normal. In a normal family, all children are equal, regardless of gender. Got it?"

Riley nodded obediently.

I turned back to the table, picked up the chicken leg, and bit into it without expression.

Riley shuffled over to my side, eyes still red, carefully tugging at the corner of my shirt. "Madison... I was wrong."

I didn't respond.

His voice got smaller, tearful. "I shouldn't have said those things to you... I shouldn't have just listened to what other people said. I'm sorry..."

I chewed my rice and gave a noncommittal "Mm."

He suddenly ran back to his room, returning moments later clutching an action figurea birthday present I'd saved up six months of allowance to buy him.

He placed it beside my hand.

"Madison, hereyou can have this back."

I paused.

"You keep it for me," he sniffled. "When I prove I can behave, you can give it back. Or if I make you angry again, you can smash it."

I pushed the figure back toward him.

"No need. You keep it. Just don't let there be a next time."

He clutched the figure, tears falling again.

I kept eating, saying casually, "Stop crying. I'm just next door in 7th grade, room five. If things get bad in your class, you can come find me during breaks."

Riley nodded hard.

The next afternoon, after second period.

I was sprawled over my desk doing math homework, the classroom buzzing with chatter and the occasional snorer.

"Madison! Someone's here for you!"

I looked up. An unfamiliar boy stood at the door, craning his neck to peer inside.

I put down my pen and walked out.

Seven or eight people stood in the hallway. The one in front was half a head shorter than me, face twisted with hostility, backed by several other boys of varying heights, all wearing middle school uniforms.

The leader walked up to me, tilting his face up. "You Madison Reed? Riley's sister?"

I nodded, already knowing. "Derek Walsh?"

He snorted, glancing back. His crew stepped forward, forming a semicircle.

"Your parents went to my homeroom teacher, even said they'd call my parents in to 'manage' me. Ridiculous!" His voice rose. "I know that wimp Riley doesn't have the guts, so it must've been you who snitched! What, can't fight your own battles so you run to mommy and daddy? What are you, in kindergarten?"

The boys around him laughed.

I stared at him expressionlessly.

"Your brother's a pathetic waste, getting bossed around by his sister at homehe should be ashamed to even be alive! I'm just trying to teach him to grow a spine. What's wrong with that?"

I took a step forward.

Derek instinctively stepped back, then stopped, probably remembering his backup.

"I'm warning you," he pointed at me, spittle flying, "mind your own business from now on, or I'll get people to"

Before he could finish, I grabbed his finger and wrenched it upward.

He let out a piercing shriek. I kicked his knee and he dropped to the ground with a thud.

"I'm warning youif you bully my brother again, you'll regret it."

I grabbed his hair, leaning down with menace in my voice.

Derek burst into tears, shouting, "What are you all standing around for?! Get her!"

The middle school troublemakers behind him started forward, but my classroom door burst open and a crowd poured out.

Jake, our class president, positioned himself in front of me first, followed by other class officers and students.

"Who the hell are you people? Coming to start trouble? Did you ask us first?"

"So what? Your classmate's bullying an elementary kidhave you no shame?"

The two groups pressed against each other, shoving and pushing, on the verge of a full fight.

Derek, hiding behind his crew, yelled, "I just want Madison! This has nothing to do with you! Get lost!"

"She's in our classyou think it has nothing to do with us?"

The scene grew more chaotic, several boys grappling, the hallway filled with shouting.

"EVERYONE STOP!"

A shrill scream rang out. The crowd parted as a woman pushed through.

It was my homeroom teacher, Ms. Victoria Smith.

The moment she arrived, she slapped me across the face without a word, pointing at my nose as she shrieked:

"I knew it! You shameless little seductress! Look at yourself! Leading a bunch of boys to fight for youpretty proud of yourself, aren't you? So young and already up to no good, manipulating boys into doing your dirty workhave you no shame?"

My face snapped to the side, burning with pain.

The hallway went silent.

Ms. Smith kept screaming. "Madison Reed, I'm telling you right nowI've seen plenty of students like you. Trading on your looks, getting male classmates to fight your battles. You think I don't know what you are?"

I slowly turned my head back.

My ears were ringing. The faces around me blurred. Someone was shouting somethingJake and other classmates seemed to be explaining, gesturing wildly.

But one voice was clearer than anything else

Dad's words from childhood:

"Sweetie, no matter whatif you're in a fight, you can't lose."

She dared to hit me?

I grabbed the potted plant and smashed it into Ms. Smith's face.

The pot exploded against her face.

Ms. Smith screamed and stumbled backward, blood streaming down her forehead, soil scattering everywhere. She clutched her face, voice piercing. "Madison! Are you insane?!"

I wasn't insane. I was perfectly calm. In fact, I wanted to punch her a couple more times.

The hallway erupted into chaos. People were screaming, someone yelled "Get a teacher!", someone rushed to grab me. Derek cowered against the wall, face white with terror. The troublemakers he'd brought tried to escape in the confusion, but our class's boys blocked them.

Jake grabbed the tallest one, shouting to the others, "Nobody leaves! You think you can just attack someone and run?!"

Sarah, our vice president, rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Madison! Calm down..."

I stood there, fists clenched, rigid.

Ms. Smith was helped to her feet, blood covering half her face. She pointed at me, trembling all over. "You little bitch, you... you just wait..."

I stared coldly at this teacher who'd had it out for me since day one, saying nothing.

Five minutes later, the discipline director and principal came running.

Mr. Anderson saw Ms. Smith's bloody face, eyes nearly popping out. "Ms. Smith! Who did this?"

Ms. Smith pointed at me, voice shrill. "Her! Madison! This student is completely out of control! So young and already manipulating male students, just now she even organized an attack on an elementary student. I merely said a few words to her and she attacked me with a flower pot!"

The principal was an older man with glasses, usually smiling and kind-looking, but now his face was cold as ice.

"Bring all involved students to the discipline office. Call their parents."

The discipline office was packed.

Mom and Dad sat on the principal's left. Mom's eyes were red, gripping my hand so tight her knuckles were white. Dad's face was grim, not saying a word, but I could tell he was holding back rage.

The seats on the principal's right were emptyDerek's parents hadn't arrived yet. Derek hid behind his group of troublemakers.

Ms. Smith sat in a chair nearby, head wrapped in gauze with blood seeping through. She refused to go to the hospital, insisting on staying to "watch this delinquent student be dealt with."

The principal sat behind his desk, Mr. Anderson standing beside him.

Several class officers stood behind me, along with some classmates who'd helped shield meboys and girls, not one had left.

The door burst open.

Derek's dad stormed in holding up his phonethe screen showing a live stream, comments flooding past. His mom followed, immediately rushing to Derek and crying:

"My baby! My baby, are you okay?! Mommy's here, don't be scared!"

Derek's lip quivered and he burst into tears, mother and son crying together.

His dad swept the phone camera around the discipline office, finally shoving it in my face.

"Everyone look! This girl right hereshe attacked my son! My Derek is only ten years old, and she beat him black and blue!"

The comments went wild:

Who is this girl, acting so tough

Beating up an elementary kid, shameless

Call her parents in

No home training, she'll never find a husband

...

Mom couldn't take it anymore, standing up abruptly. "What are you doing?!"

Derek's mom whirled around, first rattling off a string of curses in dialect, then wailing: "What am I doing?! My son was beaten by your daughterI'm here for justice! Look at my sonfingers bent like that, knees covered in bruisesis your daughter even human?!"

Ms. Smith clutched her forehead, looking weak, and staggered toward the camera.

"Mr. Walsh, Mrs. Walsh, please calm down. The school will handle this..."

She paused, eyes suddenly welling up, voice choking.

"Actually, I noticed problems with Madison from the start. First day of school I could tell something was offdressing up all flashy, always hanging around the boys. Today you saw what happenedshe led a gang of male students to fight, beat Derek like this, and when I tried to intervene, she attacked me with a flower pot!"

She pointed at her head, gauze stained with blood.

"I've been teaching for fifteen years. I've never seen a student like thisrotten to the core, completely out of control!"

The comments exploded:

Holy shit she attacked a teacher?!

Expel her! She has to be expelled!

Abnormal kids should be sent to special schools, why should they be allowed to harm normal teachers and students!

I stared coldly at Ms. Smith's performance, unconsciously running my tongue over my canine teeth.

How could... how could anyone be so viciously jealous of someone?

From the first day of school, I'd noticed Ms. Smith had it out for me.

That day I wore my new school uniformskirt to the knees, hair in a ponytail, standing in the middle of the line. She suddenly walked over, looked me up and down, and said sarcastically, "Did you shorten your skirt?"

I looked down at my skirt and everyone else's, not understanding how anyone could be this blind.

"No."

She snorted, warning me she'd be watching me, telling me not to pull that kind of trick.

Later I learned she disliked me because of my mom.

The day I registered, Mom came with me, wearing a floral dress and light makeup.

Ms. Smith was at the door greeting people. Mom smiled and said hello. She smiled back, all fake.

Once we were far enough away, I heard her tell another teacher: "You can tell she's not a decent person, dressing like that. The daughter's probably no better."

I didn't tell Mom what she said.

But I remembered it.

The first week of school, I was made Chinese class representativepersonally appointed by Ms. Smith.

I thought it was a good sign.

Later I realized she just wanted someone easy to push around.