With a silent nod, Paul and Drew began to run headlong into the pack of bullies. This surprised the bullies for a second—they were used to seeing them running away at first sight—which gave the two of them enough time to rush forward and, just as they were about to enter attack range, split off and veer around the pack. The bullies were too slow to snatch them by the arm. Paul and Drew met together swiftly as soon they were behind Jerry and Evan, and together, they shoved their adversaries behind their backs and kicked them in the rear end.
Paul and Drew began to laugh triumphantly. Their laughter only lasted a second, however, because they noticed that the bullies had not, as they expected, fallen down. The plan was to run away after Jerry and Evan were sprawled face down in the mud, but no—they still stood. And before they could run, Paul felt a cold grip on his arm, one he could not pull himself out of, one that was accompanied by the hard, glaring face of Jerry’s scowl. He turned around and saw Evan and captured Drew in a similar way, but with his other harm hooked around Drew’s neck in a vise.
“Payback.” Jerry was breathing heavily and his nostrils flared.
The next few moments were a blur for Paul. Something hard hit the back of his head, and before he knew what was happening, he saw the clouds in the sky and Jerry’s face, his eyes glinting with resolve. There were blows landing on his jaw, painful explosions at point-blank range, which stung at first—he could feel himself curling in agony—but soon they began to get number. He heard Drew screaming and crying for help, but he could see nothing but that face, that smirking face, which too began to blur and swim back and forth in his vision. The light dimmed. He tasted and smelled his own blood filling his nostrils, his mouth.
Run—but he couldn’t. His legs and arms refused to provide enough lift to stand up. The darkness began to flash before his eyes.
And then—
–the bar of light flashed before him. It hung in the air, defiant and glowing white like a hot fluorescent light bulb, hovering in the space between him and Jerry’s face. Jerry did not seem to be able to see it.
There was only one thing to do. With his one free hand—how foolish of Jerry to leave a free hand—he grabbed the bar of white light as if it were a knife, and with a yell, slashed it across Jeremy’s face. He had no idea if it would do anything—how could light do anything to anyone? The impulse was as natural as it was desperate, the last remnant of his fight/flight instinct that told him, at this moment, he could not back down. No. Not after all they had tried. Not when—
The light burst in a blinding flash in front of Jerry’s face. It exploded like a supernova, a bloom of brightness that, for a moment, left Paul staring in awe. I did this. Then the shrieking began. It had an unfamiliar ring, a high-pitched pig-like squeal, and a few seconds later Paul saw that came from Jerry’s mouth. Jerry, who was clutching his fingers over his eyes. I did this. Blood seeped between his fingers, trickling down his knuckles, thickening until it painted all his fingers red.
Paul found the strength to stand, but began to feel sick in the stomach. He saw Mark standing there, agape, with Drew still lying on the ground.
“My eyes!” Jerry’s words were barely intelligible between his screams. With his hands over his bleeding eyes, he began to run blindly around the field. Evan ran to Jerry’s side and, with an arm around his shoulder, calmed him down enough to lead him away to the nurse’s office.
Paul stood in silence. He looked down at his clean hands. I did this. Pain began to pound on his head; he was still dizzy, and the pain in his belly persisted. I did this. He thought the light only came in the dark. He did not know it could be a weapon. I did this. How horrible a weapon, too. How effective.
Finally, Drew stood up. He looked at Paul from a distance. “What happened?”
Paul could only gaze at his friend in silence.
“What did you do to him? Paul!”
Paul saw Drew’s eyes—those soft, vulnerable, eyes—wide with terror. Another sharp pang stabbed his stomach. I did—he had blinded, maybe even killed someone. It made him feel sick. But he had won. Knowing that made him feel a bit better. Stronger. No longer so helpless.
Paul turned his face away from Drew. “I don’t know,” Paul said, slowly, flatly.
The bell rang. Recess was over, and without a word, Paul and Drew left the playground, separately.