The young man indulgently looked at the girl who had been begging him to go to the party for half an hour already and turned his thoughtful look at Georgie.
“Hey, pimply!” He called out, ignoring the pleas of a classmate who had long been making plans to get this quite a catch everyone considered Joseph to be.
‘I shouldn’t respond,’ the grown-up George was repeating to himself over and over, “Otherwise, he’ll stomp me out completely. Not responding is also not a way, or he will beat me again. God damn these teen pimples! He just started forgetting about me.’
“I’m talking to you!” Joey angrily kicked him with his foot, hiding his hands in the pockets of imported trousers his father brought from another work trip.
As always, Georgie assessed the scene from under his brows. There were six of them again. They became older, stronger and learned how to build strategical chains. So now the brave guys were approaching him from all sides. For a teacher who just entered the room, it would seem that the guys were just standing in groups, talking about something, relaxed.
“I’m paying my attention to you, by the way!” Joey resented in anger. “And you’re turning up your nose at me! You got some nerve, kike!”
Attention? Georgie raised his head in surprise. Here’s how he sees his bullying from the very first grade. And the worst thing is, he believes himself!
With a bitter look, Georgie stared at his copybook, tracing out each letter deliberately slowly. He knew that the teacher wasn’t a guarantee of his safety, but only a delay in reprisal. But he still didn’t understand why he was so angry with him because he didn’t do anything wrong to them.
“If God has no time to look after me, then maybe his opponent will give me a minute ...” Georgie said once and got some from his mother for that and for a rather long time was forced to listen to Uncle Pete’s mockery who had recently become his stepfather.