Weekly Expressions #17 ~CK

Let me start off my humble tale with a bit of honesty. I’ve never felt like a hero or imagined I’d ever become one. But in my dreams, I always hoped that I would be. That for one rash moment of insanity, my passions would dispel everything of normality within me, and I would lose it. A defining moment, a glimpse into my soul, if you will.
But for the most part, I was basically the odd-ball observing from the sidelines. Too average to be a nerd or coordinated enough to be a jock. Too colorful to be a goth; too plain to be a model. unattached to any guys or video games, which the weirdos seemed to obsess themselves over. And on weekends, I never ventured out to some sketchy neighborhood to get drunk at parties.
Yes, that’s right. I’m what some might call the loner in these parts, but sometimes dancing to the beat of your own drum has its perks. For one thing, it can help those who blend into the endless mass of gray people gain the courage to break free. More often than not, the world will hate you for being different, but then again, the right people will respect your uniqueness.
Ever since I had decided to wear my all-time favorite outfit, a spider-man suit, to show and tell in first grade, I had been labeled an outcast. Even though they were only a bunch of six or seven year olds, their heartless gazes had forced me to tears. As sad as this all may sound, it’s actually one of my favorite days of all time. it was the day I met my best friend. Through my blurry vision, I could just make out the figure of a wide-eyed little girl gaping at my costume.
“Where did you GET that?” she asked, eyes bulging from behind a pair of round spectacles.
I brushed away the tears.
“Walmart,” I said proudly.
She gasped, “it’s simply wonderful!”
Her bleach blonde hair and eyes the color of a sun kissed April sky welcomed me.
“I’m Lydia,” she exclaimed suddenly.
“Vicky,” I smiled and we shook hands.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Now fast forward about ten years later.
Same school.
Same obnoxious children disguised in teenage bodies.
Same pair of girls.
It was sophomore year and Lydia and I were managing as best we could against horrible math teachers, snobby gossip girls, gym class dodge ball, the usual obstacles facing two sixteen year olds.
The time is about twelve noon.
Lunch.
I was in the middle of making love to my submarine sandwich when Lydia caught her breath.
“it’s him again,” her frightened eyes searched my face for answers.
“Calm down! He’s probably just going to eat his lunch.” I tried to be encouraging, but I had my doubts as much as she did. After all, it was only Seth Gibson, the toughest bully in San Francisco. Weighing three hundred fifty pounds and peering down at his victims from a height of 6’3”, it was difficult not to be intimidated. I watched as he sauntered towards skinny Ned conversing with his geeky friends. His lumbering stopped directly behind the kid who was now shaking in fear.
“I believe somebody, forgot our deal,” Seth stated, glaring at the sea of pimply faces as he spoke.
“And that somebody is very lucky to be alive,” another surveyance of the unfortunate table members.
He pulled something from his back pocket, revealing the shiny blade of a pocket knife. His victims however were oblivious to the presence of the weapon.
Seth started pacing the length of the table.
“It’d be a….shame if any accidents were to happen,” he said, sneering at the geeky assemblage.
My pupils dilated to the size of grapefruits, watching the scene unfold in front of me. I had to do something.
At the table in front of me and Lydia sat Bridget Reyone, reapplying her mascara using the reflection on her spoon. Snatching the spoon from her hand, I chucked the utensil towards the back of Seth’s head. Suddenly, he turned, eyes flaring at me.
The lumbering commenced again, this time in my direction.
“Why don’t you just eat your lunch like a normal person, Beefsteak?”
I’m not sure where the nickname came from, but I went with it, even though I knew it was probably not the wisest thing to say to someone three times bigger than you.
“What did you call me?” he squinted as if he had misunderstood.
“Beefsteak,” I said again louder. “Your fat ears clogging your hearing or something?”
Now he was really ticked, and I immediately regretted the words now leaving my tongue. But it was too late. Seth was charging towards me like a bull while the rest of the cafeteria gazed on.
“Look out!” Lydia shrieked.
Without thinking, I shrunk down into a bent-knee stance and kicked him as hard as I could.
“Aaaughh!” he yelled in agony, grasping the afflicted lower half of his body. “You’re dead meat for this, Woods.”
My best friend stared at me in awe, as if I had just done a great thing.
“What?” I questioned, but she was too shocked to reply.
That afternoon, I got called down to the office. Even before the principal spoke to me, I knew I was in for detention, maybe worse. But fortunately, Mr. Agley gave me a break and assigned me one after school detention with the art teacher. Hardly a punishment. 

The following day, people I never even spoke to suddenly knew my name. I was showered with hellos and smiles from fellow hall-travelers. I even got compliments like, “Nice goin, Vicky,” or “Way to pay back the big boy!” or “Keep up the good work!”
That last one kinda puzzled me since I’d hardly classify kicking a guy in the bad spot “good work”. But ever since that moment, everyone started to look at me in a different light and I knew things would never be the same.