tear jerker

about a retard and a guy

Tears ran down his ugly face. The revelation of what his friends could have done shocked him. Pain ripped his hearts into shreds. The same pain burned in his chest, and then in his mind, he pictured them all lying on the floor. A perfect scene of discord.

I backed up. Bryan, the mentally retarded boy had finally realized that I had stuck paper with orange paint saying, “hit here” on the back of his head. His face grew red, and his squashed tomato of a nose turned crimson. His face began to flush, and his nostrils dilated. A filmy sheen covered his eyes, and fat, pearly tears rolled down his face, and all over his uniform. The wet trails were streaked across his face, and copious amounts of mucus began to stream over his protruding lips, and as he breathed out, a glob of the disgusting concoction that was produced inside his nose splashed near my feet. Instinctively, I jumped back. The small mound of mucus looked like a tiny, green baby oyster, just sitting there. I watched as he wiped the mucus away with his deformed hand. Silvery threads of the slime hung from his hand, but he didn’t care. The billboard straight back of his head was stained with orange paint, and brilliant streaks of ink spider webbed across his T-shirt. His anger was nearly tangible through the thick, loaded atmosphere of the classroom. Students stared in disbelief, and some whispered that the “hulk” was angry. They’d just have to get used to the name. It was definitely going to stick for a while
His brow knotted in concentration, and he cautiously scanned the classroom. Nobody bothered to look him in the eye. Indeed, he could not look at anybody in the eye for more than a few seconds at the most. He looked round one more time, then went to the toilet, with much grunting, and choked half sobs.

When he returned to the classroom, he was the picture of composure. His prominent brow jutted over his eyes, and hooded them, giving him the look of a menace. His hands were clean, free of all the goop. Only the red rimmed eyes and the webbing patterns of ink stated the fact that he had been crying profusely just a few minutes before, and that he had been consumed by the irresistible urge to hurt, to run, to hide. I generously handed him a tissue. If the teacher chose to come in at this time, I was so dead. On no circumstances were we supposed to tease Bryan. I felt my heart beat silently against my ribcage. The teacher walked into the class, silently surveying each of our faces. I kept mine angelic. If there were any signs of guilt on my face, or if the teacher had doubted me for a second, the gesture of giving him a tissue wiped my slate clean. I grinned a private smile to myself. Score one for the norms, and score zero for the losers.

The teacher picked up the piece of paper, the lettering that I had painstakingly written in Elija’s handwriting, on Elizabeth’s paper, and had stuck it on him near to Tommy’s seat. All were seated far away from me. I was not a prime suspect. Mentally, I kicked back, and relaxed. However, I sat back up with a whiplash, and rubbed my neck ruefully. “Jonah Lim. Would you escort Bryan down to the General Office? His mother will pick him up there.” Sullenly, I got to my feet, and picked up Bryan’s bag, easily swinging it over my shoulder.

On the way down, Bryan kept on talking non-stop. “I mean, you couldn’t have done it. I know you’re my friend! But if its not you, then who could it be? You’ll help me find out right? Right?”

“Yes Bryan, we’ll find out who did it, and we’ll get him.” I replied lazily.

“Gee thanks Jonah.” He said the words with fervent adoration.

“Oh! So you must be Jonah! Bryan told me all about you!” a lady in green said. Her shirt was slightly tattered, and she grabbed Bryan’s hand like it was her life support. Bryan looked around, pretending not to notice his mother. Bryan’s mother noticed the silence, glanced at her wrist, and gasped. “Come on Bryan! We have to go to the doctor. You’re late!”

I watched the pair of them hurry into the waiting Volkswagen, and zoom off. I then realized what I had felt was weird. The lady had glanced at her watch… but she didn’t have one. And come to think of it, the Volkswagen looked more like a hand-me-down then a car.

That night, as I lay in bed, I saw myself as I was. Tall, strong, maybe even handsome, but I also saw my inner self. I had covered up for making fun of those lesser than me. I had also poked fun at people countless times. And today, when Bryan had confided in me, I suddenly realize what a horrible person I had been…

Reviews

[The_Dreamer]

I really liked the moral behind it, and the change of atmosphere when the main character was making fun of the Bryan compared to when he finally realised his mistake.

One of my favorite phrases is "looked like a tiny baby oyster". What a cute description for an object so dreadful! I like your use of contrast!