Buck walked into the cafeteria with two hefty boys by his side. He knocked a blonde boy to the side, kept walking then headed to the adjacent table beside me. To the dork table.
I watched him as he jammed his hefty hands against the table, glaring hard at the terrified dude with four wide eyes. A chuckle forced its way beneath my lips and I tried to hold myself. Now I am not the bully, nor am I the huge guy beside Buck hailing him to terrify the poor nerd. But I could be very much called the spectator.
So I watch, anticipating the next ridiculing act that Buck would pull on the poor dude. Of course I felt bad for him. But I couldn't help but laugh.
As the terrified nerd guy kept prattling nervously whatever things came to his head, Buck grabbed his short dark hair and tossed it straight into his macaroni and cheese dish.
"Ow!" I gasped under my breath then glanced at my friend beside me.
He revealed a chuckle in his tight lips. No one wanted to laugh openly but we couldn't deny that we had the inclination. Another throw into the macaroni dish.
"Ow! That must so hurt," we chuckled. My friend texted me, a 'lol' on his mobile and we all had a laugh or two.
That's when I raised my head to see Buck staring down at me. Now, I certainly am not part of the dork team. I even get to talk to Buck once or twice, you know. So being the victim of his ridicule was not something I had ever being subject to.
I gave a thin smile, in an attempt to be sarcastic, "Hey Buck!"
The glaring and intimidating look was glaring right back at me, but I tried to chuckle it off when he stamped his hands hard against my desk, "What do you think is so funny, mister?"
"Well, um" I sat up, trying to look brave and all. I certainly didn't want to be inaugurated into his new victim of distress, so I said, "Nothing much. Just admiring the daylight."
It was dumb, I knew, but it was something.
He stamped his hands hard against my desk, bringing his face closer to mine.
I shrugged back a little, trying to feel all untouchable, as in, "now this is a little appropriate. I'm a guy, remember."
That didn't work. He came closer, stamped his hand into my squishy potatoes salad, then mashed it right into my face.
"Urg!" I heard the bellow all around the cafeteria. I felt a furious urge to stand up and challenge him and warn him to buck off (just like his name)). But as I glanced briefly to my friend, I found him laughing and I was intimidated.
I could hear in the crowd as another potato salad was smashed into my face, "Ow! Urg! That must hurt" That was my line, but now I could hear it used on me.
I stood from my sit, waiting cowardly for Buck to clear the way. He moved fearlessly, his hands raised up like a dictator, before he let me pass.
I could almost see the expressions of the faces that looked upon my soggy face mashed with potato salad, and dripping onto my blue shirt.
I came back home and grabbed my bible. Now, I have never entirely or totally been spiritual, but sometimes once or twice, I do get a niche of God. Being the jester that I was especially doesn't qualify me for anything close to godly. But right now, I got something.
I thought back to that moment in the cafeteria when everyone around me, even those who I thought were my friends, laughed at me. And especially on the smug grin I could see on Buck's face. A grin from the big jester, the big molester, Buck.
And I wondered if it was just exactly the same way it was when Satan laughed at God when we subject Him to our ridicule. Right now, I can imagine God in a mini-competition with Satan, as He tells him of that guy over there called Joe, "I can trust him. He's my very own child."
And guess what, as usual, the devil goes and seduces the guy, "Come on, Joe, it won't hurt. Just a little touch. A little sip. Just a little! I promise. It will be sweet!"
And Joe goes, forgetting the Lord God that he loves, and following after the molester and the jester. The devil grins back, and sees Jesus watching and hurt. He whispers within his breath, "Ow! That must really hurt." And Joe goes on doing the very thing that hurts the Lord. Isn't that how it is.
My name is Faithful Okoye. I am 17 years old. I love writing and I love God, hence faithwriters. The faithwriters challenge inspired me to write, but it is no longer accessible except I pay for Gold Memberships. It's pretty sad.
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