“Are you trying to say something to me? ” she demanded. Her voice struck my feeble wall of resistance and it failed, causing it to crumble into miniscule pieces.

            “No,” I quietly whispered. I hung my head, not in shame, but in hope that she would take my submissiveness as a signal to leave.


            “What did you say?” she threatened, bending down to come to my height.

            I shuddered and forced my head up. The sight of her terrifying face hit me like a punch to the gut; a frightful mix of emotions rose in me as I glanced at her hideous features. Though dark, her eyes weren’t mysterious and intriguing like the velvety atmosphere of the ebony night or warm and welcoming as the hue of honey brown. Her hawk-like eyes reached into the darkest corners of my soul, and they resembled the appearance of slime that seemed to ooze out of every swamp, and her nose, lips, and ears were all abnormally large and tinted red. “Terrifying,” I whispered under my breath. My eyes were unable to tear themselves away from her repulsive features.

            “I still can’t hear you,” she screeched into my ear. The sudden sound made me jump, and my ears were ringing for what seemed like years later.

            Baring her jagged teeth, she moved her face directly in front of mine and released an inhuman sound, almost as if she was laughing. I shrunk back and winced; her breath reeked of rotten fish. She heard me, she definitely heard me. She heard me and she was going to make me pay.

            “Look at me,” she threatened. When she failed to elicit a response, she bared her teeth and roared, “Look at me, you fool! Look me straight in the eye and tell me what you did!” Her huge hands grabbed both my shoulders, and her sharp nails sank into my sensitive flesh.

            I squealed and immediately bit my lip to avoid any more noise.


            “Say it, you twit!” she hollered. “Say it!” Spit flew past her lips and hit my throbbing cheek. “I’m sorry! I’ll never do anything you don’t like again!” I screamed, half sobbing.


            “You better not,” she menaced. “Never cross me again. I, Agnes Trenary, will destroy you if you do that again. Do you understand?”
I meekly nodded as Agnes pulled her claws out of my skin and rose to her height. She was a full head taller than I. The ground shook with every fall of her thunderous footsteps. I pitied her next victim; she had the power to go after anyone she felt like destroying.

            The first full breath that I had taken since she had approached me sent soothing bursts of cool air into my previously empty lungs. I raised my shaky hands to my face and wiped away my bitter and saline tears. Agnes had taken my bag and strewn it across the grey asphalt. I kept my head low to avoid any sort of eye contact. I knew people were watching me; nobody could help the victim without getting hurt themself.

            Agnes… why had she decided to pick on me today? Agnes Trenary was a bully; she repeated fourth grade three times and detested anything she was not familiar with. Her attacks were physically and mentally abusive and could be expected days beforehand or be completely out of the blue. There was an untold rule at school that dominated the hallways and the gossip: to always let Agnes Trenary go. No one dared raise their voice or a single finger against her in fear that she would hurt them even worse. Agnes terrorized me for the past few years, and she would always elude the punishment she deserved.

            The harsh winter wind hitting my stinging cheek brought me back to reality. Cold and grey, the concrete I was staring at perfectly described my emotions; I could have been light and clean, but Agnes had walked all over me, leaving me dark and ragged.

            My backpack was blanketed in Agnes’s footprints, and my books were scattered nearby. They were library books, I thought to myself. They were library books and I couldn’t return them like that. They were ruined. I choked back more tears and suppressed a whimper.

            Agnes hated my books because they made me seem smarter than her, and her piercing words had told me to stop reading them. I remembered her voice, ripping at the fragile seams of my courage: “These books will never make you smart, they’re stupid, just like you!” My eyes tore themselves away from the pavement and my gaze drifted towards my books. I loved them; they were there for me when no one else was, and they told me I wasn’t alone. I loved reading, but was I going to let Agnes Trenary take that away from me?

            I didn’t want to let her do that to me. I deserved to do what I love. I needed to make her feel sorry for strangling my self-expression, for stealing my property without my permission. I needed to make her pay. I felt the brief fire of rebellion, the feeling of fighting, surge through me, but it halted when I felt Agnes’s threatening, scrutinizing gaze on the back of my head. Though the flames may have died, the smoke didn’t leave me and vengeance was the only thing on my mind. Gritting my teeth, I bent over to pick up my books and dusty backpack. Guilt fell over me when I let my fingers trace the covers of the book I was reading when Agnes came upon me. It was Matilda, by Roald Dahl.

            I picked up the book and had almost let it drop when I felt an abnormally large palm on my shaking shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” I heard Agnes hiss in my ear.

            “I’m taking the book,” I squeaked. Agnes’s scorching hot breath released itself in steady puffs onto the back of my sweat-drenched neck. My heart was throbbing, and its pulses could’ve been heard a mile away.

            “Why are you going to do that?” she sneered, trying to take the book from my hand. The moment her gnarly fingers touched the delicate cover, the inferno relit and began its angry rampage.

            “Hey! Don’t!” I said, much louder than I meant to.

            “What did you say?” Agnes asked, flashing her yellow-stained teeth at me. The tone of her voice was almost comical. People were beginning to circle us; standing up to her was forbidden.

            “I said,” I stuttered, “that I don’t want you to touch it.” Agnes stopped crouching and stood at her full height. I had to tilt my head back all the way to make eye contact.

            “Oh, I’m so scared,” Agnes mocked, “because you told me not to do something. How absolutely shocking!” A few snickers arose from the crowd that now surrounded us.

            I nodded and took a deep breath. One of my hands curled into a fist, but the other grasped tightly onto the book. Matilda. I could use Matilda’s magic! If Matilda, a small child, could stand up to the Trunchbull, I could certainly stand up to Agnes Trenary. Pretend you’re Matilda, I thought to myself, just pretend. “Believe,” I whispered to myself.

            “Did you say something?” Agnes said as she balled her hand into a fist.

            “Stop being rude! You can’t go around cheating everybody!” I ordered. My voice was blazing and burned the thick tension till nothing but ashes as invisible as my fears were left.

            “Why? Why should I stop?” Agnes’s laugh resembled a hyena’s call.

            “Because it’s not fair! You can’t go around doing this to people and then get mad when they stand up for themselves!” I yelled, and then was met by her eyes once again. Her stone façade faltered for a second; there was a hint of fear in her dark pupils. Was Agnes Trenary actually afraid of me? When I recognized that Agnes Trenary had a weakness, something inside me clicked. Flames of motivation were growing on me. Strengthening my grip on the book, I swallowed and continued, “You need to stop treating people like this. This isn’t fair, and you shouldn’t punish people when they didn’t do anything wrong.”

            Agnes narrowed her eyes and took a step closer towards me. She began pacing around me in small circles, muttering, “I think it’s better for both of us if you stop talking.”

            “No,” I defiantly stated. Agnes growled, and I quaked in fear.

            To my avail, someone shouted, “You can do it!” The cry was soon joined by another, and another, and another, and soon the whole crowd was chanting my name. Was my conflagration spreading that quickly?

            “I think,” I began, “that you should never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it.” My brain seemed to be separated from my mouth; this was something I never planned on doing. Was I actually quoting Matilda? Agnes cocked her head to the side. When I saw Agnes’s expression stumble, I felt myself smiling a smile so large that even my once bare eyes held a portion of the fire I lit. I resumed my fiery rant. “Be outrageous. Go the whole hog!” I shouted louder than I knew possible.

            The crowd began chanting my name, and the color from her face began to drain. Her once scarlet features became a ghastly white. Agnes Trenary, who silenced grown men with a flick of her wrist, was frightened of me! My delight was glowing, and it singed the ends of Agnes’s consciousness.

            “Make sure everything you do is so completely crazy it’s unbelievable…” I screamed. I let my voice fly as far as it could, but it was drowned in the cries of the other students who began throwing insults at Agnes Trenary. I slunk out of the crowd just as the action really started; drama really wasn’t my thing. The sound of my footsteps searing the ground Agnes had previously thrown me upon was drowned by my peers running after Agnes and mobbing her with their newly found words of justice and freedom, words that I showed them how to use. As I put the rest of my books in my bag, I gazed at the one book I had held through my whole little rebellion. Matilda inspired me to be my better self, and the plot lines of my life and the story seemed to be intertwined. Somehow, we both stood up to a bully with the rallying support of our peers. Light was flickering everywhere, and I couldn’t stop smiling no matter how hard I tried.

            I’d done what I thought was impossible. I had just knocked down my nemesis and my biggest fear, and now there was nothing I couldn’t do. Large or small, that rebellion opened my new door of freedom and inspired me to stand up strong and tall for what I believed in. Exhilaration and enthusiasm greeted me with every second, and it seemed as though my blood stream had been replaced by my growing dignity and pride. For the first time in years, I was excited for what the future had in store for me, and I was ready to be myself, but most importantly, I had just fought for and found my own sprinkle of magic. I knew that I would grasp onto it tightly and hold onto it with all my might, and I knew that I would never, ever let any of it go.