THE VOICE OF SILENCE ------------------------------------------------------------ "You're a loser!" I ignore him but everyone still laughs anyway. Keeping my back to the boys, I dig my hands through the books in my locker, rifling through all my binders and loose pages. I used to bite their bait. I used to rise to their challenge and fire back retorts, but they always found a way to twist my words. The safest thing to do now is to ignore, ignore, ignore. Pretend you can't hear them. Pretend it doesn't hurt. "I heard you have a crush on a certain someone," he sings, and everybody whoops with interest. I poke my head deeper into my locker, pretending to search for my math book. It's no use. My face burns like the sun as I slam the locker door shut, twisting my combination lock like I'm wringing the neck of a particular nasty rooster. There's an uproar of laughter as they all catch glimpses of my red face, but I keep my jaw clenched, and my face blank. The cackles die down, and there's an awkward quietness as I simply walk away, books tucked neatly under my arm. ---------------------- [Next week] As I scurry between classes, I mentally brace as the boys come into view. Painting on my expression of calm disinterest, I continue walking, my heart pounding like a drummer who can't keep time. But as we slide past each other in the crowded hallway, they ignore me too. It's like they didn't even see me. They just kept walking, didn't say a thing. My mask melts a little as a hint of happiness warms my lips. On my way back to class, I pass the boys again. They're all roaring with laughter, and students are gathering like clotting blood. I hate to be like everyone else, but I really am curious. I duck beneath someone's elbow and creep forward through the crowd. I can tell immediately what's going on as soon as I see her face -- red like she's just run a thousand miles. She's trying to speak, to be heard above the ruckus, but they won't let her. Whatever she says, they cut her off at just the right moment to ridicule her, to repeat what she's said in a way that's so stupid and mean everyone has to laugh. Guilt tugs at my weighted heart as I melt back through the crowd. -------------- [A few weeks later] The boys never take notice of me anymore. A couple of times they've jabbed at me with a sharp words, but I don't show them any reaction, and they lose interest. Their new main target doesn't know this. She keeps arguing and going red and the way the boys mimmick her, even I feel guilty giggles inside. The more she tries to explain, the more the boys twist her words back on her, until she's shouting nonsense at them and doesn't seem to know what she's trying to say herself. I glance over at her as I walk past, wondering how crazy they've got her today, and as she turns, the light reflects at an angle, and for the first time, I see that her cheeks are shining with tears. I bump to a stop. This isn't right. I've been where she is now, and nobody should ever have to travel there. My feet take me back, and I linger beside the lockers. I know standing up for people is right. I know I should help her. I know I need to speak up. But then they'll turn to me. If I speak up, they'll twist my words like a wave that rears above your head, ready to crash down and drown you in its deathly power. I can see her, floundering in the water, struggling to stay afloat. She is trying to swim back to the sand, escape the ocean, but the water is pulling her, sucking her deeper. A monstrous wave mounts above the water, higher than her head, its crest frothing like a rabid dog. I bow my head and walk away. --------- [Next week] She's gone now. We've been told it just all got too much for her. That she's happier where she is now. The boys have been quiet these past few days, like they're trying to piece together what happened. How their actions fit in with why she's left us. But it's not just the boys who are pondering this. If I'd spoken up, would anything have changed? If I'd used my voice, would she still be here? What if speaking up didn't do anything? Would it be worth the risk? Guilt and indecision drag me down. When I was the one being bullied, I knew the best option was to remain silent. But when someone else was the victim, should I have remained silent, or spoken up?
