Bullies

When I was about 8, my friends and I were bullied. I dreamily remember an event where the bully was chasing me through the wooded, swampy area near my house and the boy I kinda had a crush on was looking for snakes. I stopped to see what he was doing, kinda hoping he'd protect me & bully girl drug me off pretending to be my friend.

My older sister made me & the friend of mine who was also being bullied fight back. I can remember, though, the girl thought she'd still win with two against one, against us two girls with their backs against the walls of sisterly contempt. She smiled cockily, waggled her fingers in that "come and get me" way.

We won. She lost face that day, and was never able to bully other kids again. We knew she could be beaten.

It's a classic story-- the underdog wins, even when at great odds. I like to think bullies always get theirs. And it's probably wrong to be secretly glad when a bully's karma bites them on the ass.

But I can't help but smile, a little, because I know that like when Glinda waved her wand at the Wicked Witch just as Dorothy got her shoes: "You have no power here. Now be gone, before someone drops a house on you." Like when my sister made me take control over my life with the childhood bully, it doesn't really matter now if I actually lose the fight. I tried, and that means the bully doesn't win.