Nothing

It didn’t matter that the sun was out, the muffled laughter in the stairwell made the world dark. Walking down the stairs as quiet as I could, trying to get to the next floor without incident, all I wanted to do was get to class. As I reach for the door, someone grabs at my wrist.

They came from downstairs, attacked from behind. My books were smacked out of my hands; they crashed and rolled away, down to the first floor. I was being pushed in the same direction. Clutching onto the handrail, I avoided a concussion, but there were too many of them.

They pulled at my jacket, took my shoes and disappeared in a rush. Their laughter echoed. A security guard was yelling.

He picked me up from the ground and marched me to the principal’s office. He was saying something as we walked, but I wasn’t listening. Slamming me down on the bench just outside the main office, he dared me to get up again.

I breathed deeply, trying to stay calm. Clearly, I was fighting a losing battle. One of my teachers happened to be passing by. He approached the guard.

“Is he okay?”

“He was playing in the stairs! I’m waiting for the principal, so that we can expel him from the building. I’m getting tired of these hoodlums. One by one, we’ll get rid of them. Mark my words.”

The teacher stepped into the main office. An eternity later, he and the one in charge stepped out into the hallway. They asked me to step inside with them.

As I walked into the inner office, away from the administrators, secretaries and the clerks, the principal spoke with the security guard. My teacher, a hand on my shoulder, whispers,

“It’s going to be alright.”

We sit in the principal’s office for a time. Both quiet. I stare at the floor noticing that my shoes were missing.

Outside the phones were ringing and conversations were being had, while I remained deathly still. I was convinced that today was the last day of school for me. I wondered how I was going to get along without a high school diploma. Maybe I could find a job as a dishwasher. My cousin, who lives in the Bronx, maybe he could help me. He washes dishes. How hard could it be?

The principal returns with my books. The security guard throws a pair of huge shoes at my feet, barely trying to miss me.

“Thank you. You may go now.” The guard leaves in a huff.

“I’m sorry that the shoes don’t fit, but at least you don’t have to walk around barefooted. Take this jacket for when you leave today. Just return it tomorrow morning. The teacher will walk you to your next class.”

I finally look up at them. A tear escapes with one of my sighs. They must have seen my surprise!

“Don’t let them change you. Keep fighting for good grades. People like that in the end have nothing,” the principal said.

My teacher places his hand back on my shoulder and we step out into the hallway. One of the secretaries, her brow furrowed, stares. Her disdain leaks from her pores…