Bullying - A short story

[Dr. OneWay]

Hey all,

This is just a short story I whipped up for my creative writing class. Its chessy, and I personally would never take credit for this ****, but its a easy topic, and its meant for little kids.

I wrote about a bully and a kid, and the kid eventually finds a way to deal with the bully. It is due tomorrow, so I need your opinions quick! NOTE:
THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT!

So, If you find spelling errors, or stupid things like that, I havent edited it yet. I am going to add in cool stuff later, but I need your opinions quickly. Keep in mind that its a short story, and that it isnt meant to be the greatest piece of writing. I hope you like it, and please leave your opinions and thoughts! Here it is!

[Dr. OneWay]

Bullying rough draft



I watched as the bus rolled down our street, its lights glowing bright yellow. Getting in line, I was ready for sixth grade. It sounded so scary, unheard of. As I stepped onto the squeaky steps of my bus, I immediately spotted a free seat towards the back of the bus. Rushing over to the seat, the bus’s engine roared just as I sat down.

The bus picked up more kids on our way to school. At one of the bus stops, a kid jumped into the bus with a thud. He grabbed his skateboard off the aisle, pulled his sunglasses off, and started strutting down the narrow aisle as if he were king.

“Out of my seat, midget. Its reserved!” he said. I glanced down at my shoelaces, wondering what to do next. “Now!” he yelled.

“No, this was mine first!” I yelled back. Everyone stared at us.

“You don’t get it, do you? Its my seat, you little sixth grader!” He punched me in the arm, right below my shoulder. Hot surging pain pumped through my arm, setting it on fire. Nobody seemed to care what had just happened. I slowly got up, swinging my backpack over my shoulders, and moved to the front. I felt ashamed of what was happening, but what else could I do.

Walking through the glass doors into my school, I slugged along. My locker was pretty close to the doors, so I didn’t have to walk that far. I twisted the combination, throwing the door open with a loud “bang”. I tossed my backpack in, and slammed the door shut.



“Brian Ringelberry?” the teacher asked.

“Here” I said. Suddenly, the announcements flashed on the TV.

“Good Morning, Richmond middle school!” the principal said enthaustically. “Welcome back for another great year!” Nobody except him seemed to be excited about this.

As I walked to my first hour, I was stopped in my tracks.

“Hey, Loser! Where do you think your going?” The kid from the bus was standing in front of me, blocking my way.

“Going to my first hour.” I stuttered. Not again. Please.

“See you there!” he snickered, pushing me as he continued walking.

What was that suppose to mean, I thought to myself. I walked into my first hour, still bewildered about what he had said.

“Good Morning, class! Welcome to your new geography class!” The teacher said eagerly. “Today, I am going to introduce the class to all of you, and then my student assistant will pass out papers…Oh, there he is!” She suddenly yelled. “This is Troy, and he will be here for the next semester!” she said. My heart dropped. Not only would I have to deal with him on the bus, but also first hour!


* * * * * * * * * * *

Waking up the next morning was like torture to my stomach. As I walked down the stairs, each step I took increased my worry for the day. I sat down at the kitchen table, putting my hand on my head.

“What’s the matter, honey?” my mom asked quizzically. I stared at her, trying to decide if I should tell her about Troy or just lie.

“Nothing. Just tired.” I lied. I didn’t need to tell her about it. Not yet anyway.

I got up and pored myself some cinnamon toast crunch cereal. The cereal tasted hard and crunchy as I scooped it into my mouth. Cereal never tasted so bad before.

Grabbing my backpack, I dashed out the door, hugging my mom on the way. I heard the bus roar down my street, its engine practically blowing up. I rushed down the trail, narrowly missing a man and his dog.

“Sorry!” I yelled, running past him. The bus stopped at my bus stop, but I kept on running. The door was about to close as I jumped in, falling onto the floor.

I took a seat in the front this time, just in case Troy didn’t own every seat in the back. The bus started up again, loudly rolling down the corner. Seeing Troy made me want to burf, but I forced the acid down by taking a big swallow. The bus halted and its doors opened wide. Troy stepped in, cracked his knuckles, and practically jumped on me.

“Give me your lunch money!” he yelled, making sure he was cool.

NO!!! I thought to myself. This kid didn’t deserve my money! But he was so scary and tough, and he knew what he was doing.

“Get up and give it!” he raged. I stood up and pulled out my three dollars for lunch. Feeling so ashamed, I sat back down. “Better luck next time, dork!” He pushed me down onto the floor, strutting past me into his special seat. I lay there, wishing I could be somewhere else.


* * * * * * * * * *

Weeks passed by, and day after day Troy was all over me, making me dread life. Everyday would be the same. No appetite, many insults. All of it. It was wearing me down! Something had to be down!

Sitting in first hour, I was ready to attack Troy.

“Hey buddy!” he yelled to me. “I need a pencil!”

“No, your not getting any of my stuff anymore!” I screamed. Everybody turned towards us.

“WHAT! You have to!” he yelled back.

“NO! No I don’t! I will not deal with you bullying me anymore. I am sick of you being such a jerk. If you want lunch money, pencils, or anything else, go get it yourself!” By now everybody was cheering. Troy ran out of the room, whimpering and sobbing all the way.

“What is going on in here?” the teacher asked.

“Nothing much.” I said. The teacher looked puzzled, but she took her seat.

“Ok, today we are going to learn about Indonesia’s climate…”The end.