‘Why were you such a bully?’ it growls. I feel my ice cold blood drain out of my face as I struggle to look the creature in the eye through my straggly ginger hair. Unable to subdue the creature’s anger, I look to Miss Armit, one of the adult supervisors. She looks as afraid and uncertain as I am, so it is up to me to speak. My eyes fall to the ground and I mumble, ‘No I wasn’t.’ My knees are trembling so much I feel like a wobbly jelly. I’m now imagining a magical flying dragon swooping down from the sky to rescue me. ‘Yes you were. You were the school bully!’ it snarls. The other children are looking, and are scared for me. Miss Armit has stopped turning the long skipping rope for two girls who were playing happily just a moment ago. The words ‘school bully’ sliced right through my brain. Why is this happening? I am 8 years old, small and timid with short ginger hair, and have never bullied anyone in my life.
An incident like this certainly has a history behind it, so I will now tell the story which happened three years before this confrontation at After School Club. I was five years old, and it was early morning break time. I skipped outside, having just eaten my Kitkat and drank my fruit juice. I stood in the soft bark and peered around the playground to see if I could find anyone I knew to play with. Most of the children were inside because they were eating their snacks, and some were still in class. There were only a few children wandering around the bark area, but I didn’t recognise them, so I went to my favourite climbing frame to play alone. It all happened so fast.
There were pale white claws grasping my collar, and it took a moment to register that I was being shaken by some terrifying creature. The voice shaking me by the neck snarled, ‘WHY DID YOU KICK LUCY?’. I felt a shock as my blood froze and my heart stopped beating. I slowly craned my head up to look at my attacker, and my stopped heart was frozen over completely by an icy blue stare. A painfully thin, 10 foot tall beastly girl was throttling me and had shiny white fangs which reminded me of a Sabretooth Tiger. After what seemed like an hour, her chubby blonde friend tapped her on the shoulder and said something. Her claws liberated my neck, and I heaved a heavy sigh to get my lungs working again. Before she walked away she warned: ‘Be nice to people.’ She spat in the air as she spoke with steam flaring from her nostrils, and stormed off. It was the most terrifying experience I had had up to that point, which left me feeling extremely vulnerable in the playground.
The creature had pale white skin, the whitest blue eyes I had ever seen and hair like the blackest night. She always had her teeth on show to warn people to stay away. Her name alone was unusual and slightly sinister: Greta, like ‘garrotte’. Although the school tartan was blue and green, she wore a bright red kilt. Red, like the colour to make an angry bull charge.
Just to clarify: I never kicked Lucy. I didn’t know who Lucy was. I wasn’t in her class, therefore it was a terrifying case of mistaken identity . It wasn’t the last time I encountered the beast face-to-face. A few months after, I was swinging on the monkey bars and as I swung my body down to hang by my legs, and became face-to-face with a white-blue stare. By the time she had said anything, I was already on the other side of the playground hiding under a slide. I ran away from her every time she came within a six foot radius for the next three years.
And now here I am, in the After School Club, having a final showdown with the beast. All I can say to her is, ‘No I wasn’t,’ over and over again.
It’s strange to think that we are just two little girls having an argument.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s