Worthless Words

Dramatic dialogue taken from my book, Back to the Bullies.

By Patricia Bakora
Another town, another dressing room. An hour and a half till showtime, a
perfect opportunity for power meditation and contemplation. As Sandy
sat in front of the brightly lit mirror heat-waving her big mane of hair, she
heard a rap on the door. Cmon in, she sighed.
Sandy saw the womans reflection in her mirror before she turned
around. A gray-haired lady in her late sixties, dressed in a powder blue
suit, hovered over her, with a hesitant smile.
I dont suppose you remember me, Mrs. Franklestone, but I
recognized you.
Not too hard to do, Sandy said. Tall skinny redhead with a soft
heart and a hard kick. She swiveled around and studied the womans
grim face. Oh, yes, I remember you. Youre my high school English
teacher, Mrs. Whitehall. Howd you get in with all the paparazzi blocking
my door?
I told them I used to teach at Hogwood High. I suppose they let me
in since I look harmless enough. Do you have time for a little chat?
Pull up a chair, Mrs. Whitehall. You can just call me Sandy like you
used to. Ive got loads of time till Im due to give my speech. Care for
some herb tea?
No thank you, Sandy, Ive just had dinner. Ahem, the purpose of my
visit is to discuss your past experiences at Hogwood High. I believe I can
help you gain a more positive perspective on that unpleasant part of your
life.

Sandy studied the frail-looking lady, with the wrinkled face and
piercing, critical little eyes. Mrs. Whitehall, I wouldnt go there if I were
you. It might be too much of a shock to your system if we revisit the
past.
Sandy, Im fully convinced the Lord sent me here to speak with you
about these crucial issues, and He will give me the strength to help you
face your own past. Please bear with me, if you will.
Waving her hands, Sandy sighed, Okay, okay, but youve been
warned. Ill lay all my cards on the table too. Ill start by asking, Are you
retired now?
Yes, I started drawing my pension years ago. I was forced to retire
early due to nervous strain. Sandy, every day I thank the good Lord I
dont have to teach anymore. My husband got a promotion at work, and
the extra income enabled me to resign when working conditions became
unbearable. My, but children are so rude these days.
Sandys face fell. Oh Ive known that most of my life. Know why
they were rude to you too?
Why?
Mrs. Whitehall, are you still a religious woman?
If you mean whether I still serve Jesus, yes, Im still a Christian
woman.
Ever hear this old saying: Give the devil an inch and hell grab a
mile?
I agree with you on that one, Sandy, but what does that have to do
with todays epidemic of disrespect toward teachers?
Years ago, when Brad Bullard and his pals picked on me in your class
you told me it was no big deal. When they teased Kitty about her weight
and drove her to tears you tactfully told her life would get better if she
stuck to her diet. As if only skinny people are entitled to humane
treatment! When we complained to the principal he laughed. You people
just said it was all part of growing up, a normal rite of passage. Case
closed. But when you get a taste of what I went through, you ran out of
that school like the devil himself was chasing you with a pitchfork. Why is
it a worse sin to torture grown-ups than kids?
Ignoring Sandys question, Mrs. Whitehall smiled smugly and said in a
creamy voice, Sandy, you know why I came by to see you, dont you?
Not to discuss the weather, I suppose.
Mrs. Whitehall touched Sandys hand. Sandy, you and I are both
growing older. Youd better make your peace with God. Tomorrow may
be too late.
A wry grin worked at Sandys mouth. Yeah, sure, Ive heard it all
before, Mrs. Whitehall. Save the whole damn world for Jesus! Youre
right, it is too late. It was too late a long time ago. Too late to save just
one girl, Sandy Girard, from hell right here on this earth.
Sandy, Mrs. Whitehall said reproachfully, Im concerned about the
fact you turned to that heathen Mr. Wakasaki for help instead of Jesus.

Sandy breathed hard and put her powder puff down. Mrs. Whitehall,
Jesus, if He exists at all, is away up there in heaven and Im stuck down
here on this earth. When I was a scared sixteen-year-old girl, I had only
three people in my army: Me, myself and I. If Jesus does anything in this
earth, the only hands Hes got are the hands on the ends of your two
arms. Ive done some research, Mrs. Whitehall. A sizable percentage of
Americans claim they believe the Bible. Statistical probability tells you at
least 25% of kids at Hogwood High must have been churchgoing
Christians. Now. How many of them stood up for me when I was tripped
up in the hall, lampooned in the school paper, shoved and kicked, pinched
and punched, terrorized on the school bus?
The solution to that particular problem must have been obvious to
you, Sandy. Many of our students rode bicycles. Why couldnt you have
done that?
Oh, but I did try that, right after I started ninth grade. It didnt last
one day! I remember walking out to the bike rack and seeing a crowd of
Brad Bullards buddies laughing and cheering.
Hey, giraffe! they yelled. Theres your ride!
Theyd blowtorched my lock off. My gear tubes were all chopped up.
My tires were shredded. All the spokes pulled out, twisted like pretzels.
The seat hung from a tree. Bullard pointed across the parking lot and
bragged how the rest of my bike was sticking out of Rupert Endicotts
windshield. They called Rupert a weird nerd. Guess Bullard was hacked
off at him for dating a girl who ditched him for hitting on her like a gorilla
in heat.
Sin can make a person do hateful things, said Mrs. Whitehall. And it
can make you say hateful things. Brad isnt here to defend himself. He
was just as precious in the sight of God as you, Sandy. God made him
too!
Every cook bakes a flop now and then, so I dont think Gods bragging
about bad Brad Bullard. After trashing my bike Bullard told me, Next
time you rat on me to old man Trent, Ill shove that fender down your
throat! And I better not see no more of your skanky bikes in my bike
rack!
So I had to tell my dad what happened to the bike. He went through
the roof. I warned him not to bother the principal, that he wouldnt give a
damn because he was in bed with Mrs. Bullard. Oh, excuse my French,
Mrs. Whitehall. Thats just a clich meaning they were on the same side
and Brad had a blank check to raise all the hell he wanted at Hog Pen
High. But it was me who paid the price. Not only did my dad order me
never to ride a bike anywhere near Hog Pen High ever again, I had to wait
till my next birthday to get a replacement for it. And I had to ride that
stinking school bus.
So your father never lodged a complaint with Mr. Trent to seek
redress for the vandalization of your property, Sandy?
Oh, he tried to, but it fell on deaf ears. He kept jabbering about how
it was up to me, the victim, to work things out with Bullard, and it wasnt

school policy to interfere in personal squabbles unless life and limb were
endangered, blah blah blah.
Well, couldnt you have asked the principal to store your bike in the
office for safekeeping?
I did ask him, just so I could get my dad to let me ride it to school
again. Typical Mr. Trent, all he did was yawn and say it was my word
against Bullards. He said was he wasnt authorized to use the principals
office to store students belongings, and if he did it for me, hed have to
do the same for everybody else. He wasnt being paid to pamper students
who should learn to solve their own problems. So it was my responsibility
to create my own solution. My dad grumbled about shelling out for the
new bike. He warned me that if I didnt take care of it, Id have to go buy
my own next time. So I hid it in the garage.
Couldnt you have arranged for a ride to and from school, perhaps
with some other student?
Oh, I tried that. I even asked those Christian girls who liked to hang
around your desk and talk after class. Know what they said?
What, Sandy?
Their car was too full, and they couldnt cram Kitty in with me, and
no, they couldnt think of anybody else with room in their car. But oh,
they would pray for us. Ha!
Mrs. Whitehall sympathetically said, But surely there must have been
some charitable soul at the school who could have taken you
Why didnt you volunteer, Mrs. Whitehall? As I recall, somebody said
you lived in our neighborhood.
Blushing and stammering, Mrs. Whitehall replied, Ah, Sandythere
are certain boundaries in the teacher-student relationship which ought
never to be violated, certain parameters of propriety within which I had
to
Oh, I get it! Father Mack, a friend of my dads, he told us about the
Good Samaritan who crossed the side of the road to help a social
outcast!
But they werent teacher and student, Sandy, and Paul exhorted
Christians not to socialize with unbelievers.
Now see here, Mrs. Whitehall, I dont know beans about Paul whatshis-name or your Bible, but Father Mack brought up the minor point that
Jesus hung out with hookers. I dont think I turned any tricks to get a
ride to Hog Pen High.
The old ladys face flushed. I never insinuated such a thing, Sandy. I
preferred to drive to school alone because I needed privacy to commune
with my Heavenly Father, to give me strength to face the trials of the day.
Your presence in my car would have been a distraction.
Sandy glared. Yeah, I get it, like threes a crowd? Or, was that four,
if we count poor little Kitty, who never asked for any favors from anybody,
because she was thankful enough if people just left her alone in peace!

And as for your waffling excuse that it wouldnt be proper for a

teacher to help a student, you sure did stick your nose in my business
when you wanted to kick me when I was down!
Whatever could you mean by that, Sandy?
I remember Dad telling us how, back in 83, you swung by the
greenhouse to give him a Christmas present. That happened while I was
taking a year off from school to regain my health. After months and
months of nobody from Hog Pen High dropping by to see how I was, you
decide to serve Jesus!
You gave Dad a crazy church book which
teaches parents how to beat the c*** out of kids to turn them into little
angels! Dad threw it in the garbage. Zack and Don laughed their head
off. Always punish the victim and make excuses for the criminal! No
wonder Hog Pen High churned out so many psychos and screwballs!

So much for Christians! Not a damn one of em sat with me and poor
little Kitty in the cafeteria. And when she wasnt around anymore, I sat
all by my lonesome. The day I got laughed out of school after some girls
humiliated me in the locker room, I was barely fourteen. I took my anger
out on these poor little things. She unfastened a few bracelets. Mrs.
Whitehall cried out in shock when she saw the scars criss-crossing a wiry
forearm rippling with lean muscles hardened by frequent karate practice.
She muttered something about sin under her breath.
Sandys voice shook. My parents were embarrassed about it, told
me to tell everyone Id had surgery for muscular dysmorphia to
straighten out twisted muscles in my arms, which was allegedly a rare
inherited condition. Ha! The doctor who stitched me up cooked up the
alibi, said for us to tell respectable folks that tall tale to avoid speculation

that it was a crazy suicide attempt. But I dont think the kids at school
bought that baloney. They knew. You cant fool kids.
Sandy, Mrs. Whitehall said, you ought to know its a terrible sin to
even consider suicide. What on earth made you do it?
I couldnt run from my troubles and I wasnt big enough to fight
back. And taking more of the same wasnt an option anymore. Part of it
was because of Christians who didnt love Jesus enough to cross the
slimeballs who picked on me. Excuse my French, Mrs. Whitehall. I
happen to know love is an action verb, and you dont always find love in
those religious cans called churches. Oh!
I forgot. You called Mr.
Wakasaki a heathen because he taught me how to fight violent criminals.
Are you saying its better if I just stand still and let some rapist in the
alleyway attack me, possibly infect me with AIDS or do worse to me?
Mrs. Whitehall coughed and blushed. I never said it was wrong to
defend yourself against violence, Sandy. But Jesus taught us to love our
enemies and forgive all who transgress against us. If they hit you on the
right cheek offer your left one as well.
Sandy laughed bitterly. My, but its easy to be a good sport about
somebody elses suffering, isnt it? All youll get for turning your cheek is
your teeth knocked out. And what does a bully learn from patience except
he can get away with wiping his dirty feet on a wimpy doormat who wont
fight back?
You cant benefit from anything our Savior taught unless you try it,
Sandy. The way of our Savior is the path of peace toward all men. Karate
is of the devil, even if you think it temporarily solves your problems.
Better to build bridges with your enemy than build walls.
Sandy felt slightly exasperated. It may escape your notice, Mrs.
Whitehall, but some people dont want peace, and you cant shove it down
their throat. And why would anybody be dumb enough to build bridges
with terrorists who plant demolitions in their life and would blow those
bridges up? And as for me resorting to martial arts, you fine Christians
chose that path for me. One day I swore Id be damned if I stayed and
took more abuse. So what other option did I have if churchgoing
Christian kids didnt give a damn what happened to me?
Sandy, your language Mrs. Whitehall pursed her lips.
Hogwood High taught me every cuss word I know! What about all the
cuss words I got called in school? That whole schools one big cuss word.
Mrs. Whitehall raised her eyebrows. Sandy, you know I was only
trying to be helpful because I love you. And dont you call your
organization Right to Respect? Yet here you are, showing disrespect for
your own school!
Sandy laughed. My school? What a sick joke! I got driven out of it
not once, but twice, and didnt even get to graduate from my school!.
And as for respect, its earned. Once you trample on my respect you lose
the right to your own. I respect a dirty hog more than Hogwood High. At
least hogs dont call people names.

But Sandy, didnt you respect anything about Hogwood High, at least
a few of the teachers?
Oh, a couple of em were nice. One in particular I remember spoke
out against bullying. A Cindy Franks
Mrs. Whitehall frowned. That might have been her name, if I
recall correctly. But if shes the individual in question, that woman didnt
last two weeks! She flouted Mr. Trents authority and took a few girls to
Santa Cruz to play video games on what was alleged to have been an
educational expedition!
What good is authority when it tolerates evil? Sandy retorted. At
least Mrs. Franks made me feel good about myself! At least she treated
me like a human being with feelings! When did any one of you authority
figures ever do jack diddly squat to stop those kids who picked on my
sweet friend Kitty Hawkins and called her a fat a**? Sandy gnashed her
teeth.
Color drained from the elderly ladys face. Sandy, if youd only try
the way of patience and reconciliation. Jesus was always meek and
gentle.
No thanks, Id rather keep all my skinny bones in one piece, and it
takes two to make peace, not just one. Hey, wasnt gentle Jesus the
same dude who chased crooks out the church house with a whip? Why
should I let some bully violate the temple of my own body?
Ah, Sandy, but Jesus also said blessed are you when men curse
you
Well, you can keep that kind of blessing to yourself, sister! Now
youve painted yourself in a corner for sure. If you seriously believe
sufferings a blessing, then why didnt you just go on teaching, Mrs.
Whitehall? If you earn Brownie points with God by getting slapped
around, you should have stayed on the job. I think youre contradicting
yourself here.
The old lady knitted her brow. I simply could not remain in an
environment where students refuse to learn, Sandy. Thats an affront to
my professional standing in the community. Jesus did say Dont cast
your pearls before swine.
Right on, Sandy said. Thats why I ran away from school. I was
too much of a precious pearl to let Hog Pen High kids trample me
anymore.
Thats Hogwood High, Sandy. Mrs. Whitehall looked miffed.
Whatever. Same difference. Sandy shrugged.
Im still concerned about why you turned to Mr. Wakasaki instead of
praying to God for help.
Drowners cant be too choosy about which hand they grab to keep
from sinking if only one hands stuck out, Mrs. Whitehall. As I said before,
God has no hands in this world except your own. Oh, God might want to
help but phony baloney religious folks tie His hands. My only option was
to fight my own battles. Right after I went home at Christmas time, I got
accosted by three girls from Hog Pen High. They wanted my jacket. All

they saw was the weak worm they drove out of school. Thought Id be a
pushover. But I used my hard-learned skills to defend myself. Then I ran
off to avoid further conflict.
Why didnt you just give them the jacket, Sandy?
Wasnt it enough they stole my dignity? At least let me keep my
jacket, for Petes sake.
But surrendering the jacket would have been better than fighting,
dont you think?
Listen, Mrs. Whitehall. This isnt just about a jacket. I dont do
surrender no more. Bullies smell weakness like sharks smell blood. I
had to draw a line in the sand, right then and there, or they would have
been back for more.
But God deplores violence
Havent you ever read your own Bible, Mrs. Whitehall? What about
God nuking Sodom and Gomorrah, stuff like that? God got tough when
He had to.
But its a sin to resort to violence to protect your property, Sandy.
The only property I was protecting was my personal dignity, warning
those scumbags to back off. Now if you think I enjoy kicking butts, youre
breaking Christs commandment, Judge not lest ye be judged. Thats
what Father Mack taught at his church, Dad said.
I suppose the man in question was a Catholic, Mrs. Whitehall huffed.
Holy mackerel! A Catholic! I dont care what Mack called himself. He
might be an odd fish to you, but he cared a lot more than you cold fishes.
He also said a tree is known by its fruits, and a lot of rotten apples grew
at Hog Pen High.
Why, I never Mrs. Whitehall looked disgusted.
No, you never did, Mrs. Whitehall. You never did one kind,
constructive thing to convince me to believe in a wimpy watered-down
religion which passively tolerates evil and allows it to flourish in society.
What was that part of the Bible which talks about the salt losing its flavor
so it cant preserve anything anymore? You Christians claim to be the
pros from Dover, the salt of the earth. But look how rotten our schools
are because you let criminals get away with murder.
Dont put the whole onus of this failure on us, Sandy. A teaspoon of
salt cant preserve a ton of rotting meat. Schools would fall apart even if
no Christian teachers taught in them, and the law prohibits us from
sharing our faith
Sandy interrupted, Funny how you guys brag about America being a
Christian nation. Oh yeah, you crave all the honor and glory which comes
with that but none of the responsibility. Youd rather spout platitudes than
live your alleged beliefs. I hate to tell you, but sometimes you have to
fight the bad to protect the good and you teachers, Christian and
otherwise, refused to do that. All you do is stonewall the truth away and
whitewash your own failure to live by that Book you always quote. Are
you even dimly aware of what I went through? It wasnt just the bruises
and filthy insults that drove me out of town. Brad Bullard and his gang

kept saying, Go stretch your neck with a rope, giraffe. And, Why dont
you and your fat a** friend just gas yourselves?
Mrs. Whitehall felt it would be beneath her dignity to own up to
collective guilt so conveniently buried and forgotten so long ago. Im
sorry you had to hear such unkind comments, Sandy. But surely those
children were only joking.
Sandy gave her a steely stare. So what if Id taken their advice and
attempted suicide again? What if Id died? Where would I be today?
Hell?
Mrs. Whitehall lowered her eyes, nodded.
Lets explore other possible spinoff ramifications which could have
happened, Mrs. Whitehall. What if those children had driven me to kill
myself? No law in the land would convict them because it was allegedly
my personal choice to die. Lets say the bullies drove me to suicide, then
got religion and prayed to Jesus for forgiveness. Id be down in hell
shoveling coal, so where would they go?
Heaven, Mrs. Whitehall whispered, looking away.
Sandy laughed bitterly. We discussed this before if my memory
serves me right, but you sidestepped the question and I never got an
answer. What youre telling me is, the poor victim fries in hell while those
who sent her down there get to dance with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates!
Dont take me for an idiot, Mrs. Whitehall. I have issues with any religion
where its adherents hear no evil, see no evil, and let the devil torture
people in school, then they not only damn the sacrificial victim to hell but
reward the terror technicians with heaven! Now I might look dumb, but I
aint that stupid!
I never said you were stupid, Sandy. All I mean is, its far better to
light one candle than to curse the darkness.
Thats the trouble with you Christians, Sandy retorted. You dont do
the stuff in your own Book, just resort to tired, worn-out clichs. Not only
do you refuse to curse the darkness, you wet nurse it so much it grows
and grows like fungus till it snuffs out that one tiny candle you sing and
shout about. But the real truth is, you cant love good without hating evil.
Youd far rather see kids kill themselves than frown at the criminals who
drive them to it. Its okay for innocent kids to die but oh, no, we mustnt
tell somebody theyre rotten and evil for inciting vulnerable people to
suicide. That might be too politically incorrect! So vilify the victim and
coddle the cause of the catastrophe! I didnt ace science, Mrs. Whitehall,
but I do know theres no effect without a cause, and surely God Himself is
smart enough to figure that one out.
Another minor point, Mrs. Whitehall. While Hogwood High
Christians kissed up to the sinners, I got driven out of school for being an
odd-sized apple, not once but twice! If a girl isnt between five-four and
five-nine, shes treated like a freak! If shes got a little too much meat on
her bones like Kitty, shes a big sack of garbage. If Dad hadnt shelled out
for a private tutor to help me finish ninth grade, I would have had to go
back to that stinking school with both arms still in bandages! How many

Hogwood High kids, Christian or otherwise, called or visited to see if I was

all right? Did you stop by even once, just to share a kind word? All you
did was spread the good news about how I must have been a junkie who
needed a good beating! Yah, thats Christian charity for you!
Mrs. Whitehalls face was pale. Her heart beat fast. Youve grown
hard, Sandy. You used to be such a sweet girl, she said weakly. What
happened?
Other people beat the sweet out of me, I guess. Soft people get
stepped on like worms. Only tough cookies survive in a world like this.
Thats why you couldnt teach in a shark pool and I couldnt learn in one.
Oh, Sandy, if only youd turn that hurt over to God. He really does
exist.
You people never did prove that to me. If Gods so powerful why
didnt He make those Christian kids treat me any better?
God cant force anyone to do what is right, Sandy. It has to be their
own freewill choice.
Yeah, freewill and choices, Mrs. Whitehall. Handy copout for
churchgoers who dont want to admit they dont have all the answers.
Wish Id had a choice about what happened to me in that school. It was
the Christian kids who made the freewill choice to go along with the
bullies. Oh, they reassured themselves they werent doing anything bad,
just pretending everything was peachy.
But we were praying for you, Sandy, the teacher meekly protested.
Sandy coughed. Yeah, right! Sure you were! Like that time I stood
outside the door while Denise and Jolene speculated that it must be my
fault those creeps were picking on me. Does the boils of Job ring a bell
with you, since you know the Bible so well?
Job got his boils for being rebellious against God, Sandy. And thats
how you got your bullies.
Sandy almost choked on her frustration from listening to so much
stupidity. She got up from her seat, found an empty cardboard box. She
boxed the box over and over, flipping it in the air. Mrs. Whitehall cringed.
Now I feel better, Sandy said, reseating herself before the mirror.
Sandy, no need to be angry, Mrs. Whitehall said meekly.
Let me tell you something, Mrs. Whitehall, Sandy breathed hotly, as
the little woman stared at her in disbelief and fright. I didnt like being
blamed for my own hurt and humiliation when I was at Hogwood High,
and I still resent the insinuation that I brought that hell on myself. Bullies
bully because theyre bullies, and its always the bullies fault! When a
burglar robs a home, people dont blame the homeowner for owning lots
of nice things that attracted the burglar. But when bullies stole my dignity
I got blamed because there must have been something wrong with me
that attracted the bullies!
We werent trying to be mean, Sandy, we only said as you said
yourself, theres never an effect without a cause. Proverbs 26:2 says
theres a cause behind every curse that comes on you.

Sandy cackled, angrily. Yeah, guess you could say that, Mrs.
Whitehall. Bullies were my curse and my cross to bear, and what caused
the bullies was sheer carelessness.
Glad you see it my way, Sandy, the little lady smiled smugly. It
takes a big woman to admit she was careless and brought misery on
herself.
Oh, no, Mrs. Whitehall, I never said it was my carelessness which
brought misery into my life. It was somebody elses carelessness.
Whose?
Brad Bullard and Wayne Woodcocks mothers would be very bighearted to admit they were careless the night they forgot their birth
control and conceived those creeps, wouldnt they? Ha! Ha! Ha! Gotcha
there!
It was almost too much for the old ladys heart. Oh, Sandy, its not
very feminine to act the way you do.
Sandy smirked and shrugged. And its not very safe to be other than
what I am. Oh, I could have been a dainty, soft-spoken powder puff. But
the bullies wouldnt let me be that way. I had to fight for my right to
survive. Better a live tiger than a dead kitten.
Survival was my goal in a world eager to destroy me. On top of all
the rotten treatment I got, I got voted Least Likely to Succeed by the
student body. And if it hadnt been for Mr. Wakasaki helping me believe in
myself, it would have been as stupid to expect me to succeed as to expect
a hobbled horse to win the Kentucky Derby.
True success is measured by how much you love the unlovely, Sandy,
Mrs. Whitehall said, piously.
Haw haw haw! Sandy laughed.
Tell that to all those fine
churchgoers who wouldnt associate with me in school, just cause I
wasnt unlovely enough for them to love! One day Jolene and Denise
melted into the crowd when I came close, didnt even want to look at me.
Just hid behind the bullies who threw stuff at me and called me a giraffe.
And you talk to me about love. Ha!
Oh, Sandy, Mrs. Whitehall pleaded, please dont be bitter. Jesus was
with you while you suffered all that. You just didnt see Him.
You hit the nail on the head, sister! No, I didnt see that Jesus of love
youre always singing about. So why didnt I? Were those kids so scared
of the bullies they kept Christ hidden away till they were ready to take
him out of His box for one hour on Sunday?
Mrs. Whitehall patted her arm. You have to realize, theyre only
human, just like you, Sandy. People do get scared.
Sandy laughed bitterly. Lets see if Ive got this straight, Mrs.
Whitehall. Church people sing Onward, Christian Soldiers and Jesus is
allegedly their general. What other army on earth hides under the bed
and just hopes the big bad boogerman will go away if they sing enough
sweet songs at it? What other army on earth is so ashamed of their own
general as church people are of Jesus, once church is all over and theyre
back out in the real world?

Those children were immature, Sandy, you must understand that.

The devil is responsible for all the wickedness in this world.
Yeah, Mrs. Whitehall, when you foul up, blame the boogerman! How
handy! At least hes good for something!
Sandy! Mrs. Whitehalls eyes widened. Satan is an ever-present
threat in this world and he is everywhere! Dont take him lightly!
Yeah, hes easy to spot. You see the devil in Mr. Wakasaki, Sandy
said. But I saw him every single day in those rotten kids that bullied me
on the bus.
Who bullied me, her old English teacher corrected.
I deliberately said that. Those kids acted like savage animals, so to
me, theyre less than human. They referred to me as an it so why
shouldnt I dehumanize those unwanted ghosts of my past? That way it
hurts less.
Youre better than that, Sandy.
Sandy chuckled. Thats news by me. Arent you the same one who
called me a sinner?
Mr. Whitehall said ruefully, Oh, Sandy, Satan is making you so bitter.
You ought to love those poor children. They need love, not hate.
So did I, Mrs. Whitehall. But nobody thought of that at Hogwood High,
not even Christians. And as for the devil, if he really exists, those kids
were his tools. Do you love the knife thats carving your soul into tiny
pieces, even if its a little knife?
Perhaps their parents didnt understand them, Sandy
Lets get back to square one, Mrs. Whitehall. For now forget the
devils kids. Lets concentrate on Gods alleged kids. Now If Id taken my
own life God wouldnt have understood I was just an immature kid. He
wouldnt have taken into account how Bullard drove me to it. Hed have
sent me to hell for it. Right?
Grimly she nodded.
Not once in my life, Mrs. Whitehall, have I ever claimed to be
anything but an imperfect human being who tries to learn from my
mistakes and do right by other people. If I kick somebody else, its only to
defend against attack. But those Christians at Hogwood High probably
bragged in church about how theyd go to the furthest reaches of Africa
and die for Jesus. But they were too ashamed to live for Him at school. If
they werent kicking me when I was down they were condoning it or
ignoring it. Why wouldnt God hold them at least as accountable as
someone like me, who doesnt even claim to be perfect?
Mrs. Whitehall looked stricken. If only I could find the right words to
convince you
Thats all your religion is, Mrs. Whitehall, only words. Just verbal
flatulence! Now Im not a religious gal, but I do believe words are
worthless unless you live em. I read the Bible of your life every single
day. I couldnt take what you said seriously if you didnt take me seriously
as a valuable person. Mr. Wakasaki always knew I was worth something
even if others didnt. Heathen is as heathen does. Who was there for me

when I was all alone in the world and needed help? Not one of you
goody-two-shoes Christians defended my dignity when I got humiliated in
the cafeteria and the locker room. Wouldnt give a plug nickel for any of
ya. Not one of you holier-than-thou churchgoers raised one whimper of
protest about bullying at Hogwood High. You just turned a blind eye and
let the devil do his dirty work! Now I might be no Bible expert, Mrs.
Whitehall, but what was that Jesus said about loving your neighbor as
yourself? If youd been on the receiving end instead of the observing
end, wouldnt you have wanted someone to protect you by throwing those
bums out of school?
Mrs. Whitehall laughed nervously. Sandy, youre missing my point.
Violence is morally unacceptable.
Well then, why is it okay for the bullies to be violent, Mrs. Whitehall?
Why are they treated with kid gloves? Is school staff too afraid to get
tough with them?
We always tried to let students settle their differences among
themselves, Sandy. Adolescents need to learn the art of give and take.
Funny how I was always the one who did all the taking. C***, that
is Sandy fumed.
The genteel lady lightly waved her hand. No need for profanity,
Sandy. So many times it was your word against theirs, and we had to be
impartial in enforcing discipline.
Yeah, right, Mrs. Whitehall, impartiality. Aint that the damnedest
disciplinary policy any school ever came up with? Impartiality. Ignore
that mounting mountain of evidence against the bullies. That wimpy
policy has caused multiple thousands of health and safety violations in
schools nationwide. If I have my way, bullying victims will start bringing
loco parentis lawsuits against negligent schools.
What do you mean by loco parentis, Sandy?
Loco parentis means in place of the parent. By law in most states,
children are required, or rather, forced, to attend school between the ages
of 6 and 16. In some states kids go to preschool when theyre four and
kindergarten when theyre five. So bullying could start even in the
formative years of a childs life. Timid or weak children, or even children
too sweet to be considered cool are forced by law to interact with rude,
surly, hostile kids who may want to beat them up. Even animals have
more health and safety rights than vulnerable children.
Once a kid gets dropped off at school, the teacher and other school
authorities assume legal responsibility for the safety and well-being of the
child, in the parents place. A loco parentis violation could result from the
refusal of school officials to restrain or suspend aggressive pupils who are
known to inflict physical or emotional injuries on a targeted victim. To
willfully condone bullying is, inherently, a health and safety violation
which must be made prosecutable by law.
Now. What if little Susie got badly beaten up day after day in her own
home? If state welfare officials found out about it, wouldnt they probably
arrest the parents for failure to ensure the well-being of that child?

Wouldnt they even remove that child from its own home for his or her
own protection?
Oh, I suppose, Mrs. Whitehall muttered. But you managed to
survive.
Oh I survived, just barely, but too many other kids killed themselves
to get away from your impartial discipline. Funny, but I remember one
girl getting expelled just for drawing a provocative picture and showing it
to other students. And all that time big bad Bullard and his buddies got
away with verbal and physical assault. Why is a drawing of a naked body
a worse sin than attacking another students body? Why is character
assassination, emotional torture and criminal assault tolerated in our
schools while racy artwork is a hanging offense?
Mrs. Whitehall raised her nose. But surely that Wakasaki fellow is no
solution to your dilemma. He taught you to break bones instead of
building bridges. He taught you to form fists with your hands instead of
using them to reach out in love.
Mr. Wakasaki taught me to avoid fights and get away from enemies.
But I couldnt do that at Hogwood High or on that stinking school bus,
Sandy retorted. He also taught me to fight off enemies by inflicting
minimal damage whenever they forced a fight on me I didnt want. Cant
say the same for the bullies, Mrs. Whitehall. They did the worst they
thought they could get away with!
You must keep things in proper perspective, Sandy. Chances are
those bullies matured out of their bad behavioral patterns. Why, I
wouldnt be surprised if most of them went on to get married and build
happy homes and families.
Hooray for them, Mrs. Whitehall. Bullies get to forget and go on and
have a happy life after leaving their victims self-esteem down in the
toilet. They get off the hook while their victims are sentenced to a
lifetime of picking up the broken pieces of their hearts and struggling to
feel good about themselves again. So wheres the justice in that?
Sandy, its selfish of you to want justice instead of showing mercy,
and
Well, doesnt your Bible teach theres gonna be a Judgment Day for
sinners? If God wants the scales of justice to be balanced then why
shouldnt I?
Mrs. Whitehall kept pressing her point. My word, Sandy, is that what
Wakasaki taught you, to begrudge your enemies their happiness in life?
Well, isnt that what they did to me when they robbed me of
happiness at Hogwood High? They begrudged me even basic human
dignity.
But Sandy, youll find in the pages of Scripture
Sandy threw a wad of Kleenex on her grooming stand. Hogwash!
Thats just a cop-out and it wont cut it with me! Dont use the Good Book
to whitewash the unforgivable sin you people committed against me! If it
wasnt for Mr. Wakasaki Id probably be dead right now. So far as Im
concerned, if you truly believe something youll live it. Jesus taught love,

or at least thats what people say. So where was your Christian love when
I needed it! Sandy said indignantly, her voice raw.
Sandy, the older woman said soothingly, you know I love you, but I
must warn you against Satans way of fighting evil. It will only lead you
to a worse hell than you ever experienced on earth.
All I know is you forced me to choose between two hells, Sandy
hissed. And as for love, love is as love does. Its easy to love Jesus so
long as He doesnt make you unpopular. All I ever got from the
Christians at your school was a cold shoulder and funny looks. Whats a
worse sin, Mrs. Whitehall, being too cowardly to protect lonely kids from
hell on earth, or fighting to save yourself from the hell youre already in?
Youre calling me a coward, Sandy?
Doesnt matter what I say. The biggest danger is lying to yourself
about yourself.
A rap on the door. Mrs. Franklestone! Theyre ready for you!
Be out in a minute! Sandy hollered back. My zippers stuck! Play
another number!
Sandy, Mrs. Whitehall said piously, I told you a long time ago to
bear patiently with suffering. It builds character. Dont let it make you
bitter.
Well, Im not so sure it shouldnt make you bitter. One day I burnt a
bunch of cookies on the bottom. Tasted so sour the birds wouldnt eat
em. If I get burnt by too many people for too long, chances are Ill taste
bitter too.
Mrs. Whitehall fumbled with her purse. Ah, Sandy, thats partly what
Im here about. Youre on a campaign to stir up lynch mobs against
bullies. Thats not the way of forgiveness.
Here we go again. Sandy rolled up her eyes. No use goin round
and round again and beatin a dead horse. Mrs. Whitehall, Im a member
of a social activist organization, not a lynch mob. We campaign for the
protection of vulnerable individuals and groups from injustice, whether
that injustice is perpetrated by one bully or an army of bullies. I get a
sneaky suspicion you oppose our campaign to get Congress to pass a Ban
the Bully Bill. Am I right?
Yes, Sandy, but I oppose it because it would also offer protection to
gays and enable them to live that decadent lifestyle at school.
Run that by me again? Sandy blinked at her.
If gays are included in the protection provided by such legislation
theyll only proliferate in our schools because they have nothing to fear.
Sandy looked disgusted. Her jaw quivered. Im honestly struggling to
see where youre coming from, Mrs. Whitehall. Me, Im married to a man
and wouldnt have it any other way. But laws should protect everybody
from crazy Neanderthal lynch mobs. Youre saying gays ought to get
beaten up in school as punishment for being that way? Do I read you
right?
I didnt say that, Sandy. But if gay students felt no social pressure
against that terrible lifestyle

Social pressure! Sandy snorted. Does God save anybody with

social pressure and bullying? If God operates that way, sister, you can
count me out.
Oh, Sandy, Mrs. Whitehall pleaded, Mr. Wakasaki worships dragons
and devils. Hell only lead you down to hell!
Mr. Wakasaki worships no one, Sandy said. He just tries to be a
better guy than he was the day before. He doesnt wave some Bible
around to save souls. He just meditates on how he can spread love and
good will and do more to help his neighbor. And if youre so all-fired
concerned about me roasting in hell, why didnt you save me from the
biggest hell of all: that big toilet called Hog Pen High School?
The old teacher sucked in her breath. Sandy, must you resort to such
metaphors? How dare you insult our school! I cant believe you said
that! Our school turns out the finest citizens
Thats a big crock of horse****, Mrs Whitehall, and I said what I said
because I meant it! I suppose youre talking about Bradford Alfonso
Bullard, career criminal extraordinaire, and rascally Roger Trent, the
playboy principal! You can do better than that, now! That rotten school
churned out lowlife losers, not saints. Snort the Hog had a holier soul
than most of the kids there. And whats more, its not our school, its
your school! A torture chamber where bullies took a s*** on my selfesteem day in and day out!
A choking cry of horror gripped Mrs. Whitehalls throat. She felt too
weak to get up to go. Sandy, she gasped, who taught you such vile
swear words?
Hog Pen High did. Marinate a kid in a social sewer and it takes
forever to shake off the stink of the place! Just to achieve some sort of
closure not once but three times I wrote letters to Hogwood High. I told
them that since Id been publicly humiliated there so many years ago,
they needed to publicly apologize to me. But all three times my letters
went unacknowledged. No apology for putting me through years of hell
which caused self-harm, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder,
nightmares. The fourth time, I phoned that rotten school and warned
them they wouldnt be allowed to bury their guilt like cat c***. I told
them that either I got that apology or Id do unto them as they did unto
me and name and shame their school all over the nation on my Right to
Respect-Ban the Bully Campaign. And I told them if they threatened me
with a libel suit, I possess written records of the abuse I suffered there. In
my last year there I started recording every major incident, every date
meticulously, just so I could state my case someday in a court of law and
not have to rely on the subjective evidence of memories. Edgar, my
husband, persuaded me not to even bother suing Hog Pen High. Said Mr.
Wakasaki had restored my self-esteem, that the school had probably
forgotten about it anyway, we didnt need their dirty money, and I hadnt
been hurt career-wise because of the bullying.

Mrs. Whitehall shrugged. All any defense attorney would claim is you
fabricated those records later in life just to filch money out of the school
district.
Thats a dirty lie! Sandy pulled the old notebook out of her stack of
notes. Heres my evidence. All any forensic expert would have to do is
run a carbon-14 analysis to verify its authenticity. And my handwritings
still the same today.
Mrs. Whitehall shook her head. Oh Sandy, its so sinful to desire
revenge.
Im not talkin about revenge, Mrs. Whitehall, just basic justice.
But it happened so long ago
God doesnt look at it that way, if what youve said about hell is true.
Every time you got a minute alone with somebody, you threatened them
with fire and brimstone if they didnt convert to your religion. And if God
does send sinners to hell, then what about the guys who threw Christians
to the lions? Will there be a judgment day for them?
Yes, but
Now Id say throwing people into a big blast furnace for trillions of
years is a form of revenge. Even if it isnt, it sure does feel like revenge!
Those Christians who got thrown to the lions, that happened 2,000 years
ago, Mrs. Whitehall. Now if Gods gonna fry Neros fanny in hell forever
for what he did that long ago, surely Hell have something to say to bullies
who are driving kids to their deaths in 2013. Which brings me to this
pertinent point: Am I better than God? If He wants justice for the way
people make Him mad, why shouldnt bullied kids want it too?
By the way, Mrs. Whitehall, see how old my notebook looks?
Steamed, Sandy quickly flipped through a few pages, pointing.
There. Ya see? Tripped in the hall, made me sprain my ankle. Ganged
up on in the locker room, just like that earlier incident which caused these
scars on my arms. Now Sandy turned to Wednesday, April 24, 1985,
the day her dream alter ego fended off Brad Bullard.
The transformation of the latter part of her notebook was still there,
just as shed seen it in the hospital. The events of her dream were
recorded instead of the original atrocities. All pages covering April 24 to
the end looked brand new, as if freshly written pages had replaced old
ones in her notebook.
She couldnt get enough of looking at it. Mr. Wakasaki was a very
clever old man, but there were no signs of tampering. Maybe the
boundary between dreams and reality had criss-crossed in a weird
warpature of time and space!
Sandy, youve grown quiet. You look like youd seen a ghost, Mrs.
Whitehall said. Would you like me to open the Good Book and lead you
to salvation?
No, but I am ready to show you that part where Mr. Wakasaki saved
me from satans little helpers.
But he cant save you from hell! Mrs. Whitehall wailed.

Hes already saved me from hell! The hell you and other Christians
helped create for me when you enabled bullies to do satans work
unopposed. So who are you to take the moral high ground and try to
turn me into just another Bible-totin hypocrite who turns a blind eye
while kids die!
Mrs. Whitehall looked shell-shocked. Sandy continued, Were all the
byproduct of our life experiences. I am what I am today largely thanks to
you and every other Christian who ostracized me when I fought my own
war alone and needed a friend. So dont come barging in here blaming
me for being a freedom fighter whos on a nationwide Right to RespectBan the Bully Campaign. All were trying to do is save innocent kids from
paying for your sins.
Another knock on Sandys door. Mrs. Franklestone, we need you to
come as soon as possible. The crowd is getting restless.
Im all revved up and rarin to go, Jack! Sandy shouted, scooping up
her notes. Sorry, Mrs. Whitehall, gotta go.
They both left the dressing room. Sandy looked gorgeous in her
burgundy gown, intricately patterned with delicate beadwork. Gossamer
sleeves swept down to her long silver and turquoise bracelets, which only
enhanced her beauty. Around her waist she proudly wore her Broken
Rainbow Warrior Belt. She locked the door, then turned away without a
further word to the woman. Cherishing her dream, she walked out onto
the stage, beaming her sunniest smile.
Mrs. Whitehall silently wept. Too little, too late.

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