Babs slammed into the lockers on the back wall, wincing at the pain the impact caused.
There in front of her were her tormentors. The people who had made her life a living hell for the last few months.
“Time to pay up!” the first of them snarled. He rolled up his sleeves and his hands clenched into fists. There was no doubt that he meant business.
Babs pulled her wallet out and gave it to him. “I've given ya what ya want, just don’t hurt me!”
Her tormentor laughed. “Don’t see why we can’t have some fun.” He signalled. “Come on boys, we got a new game!”
Several minutes and new bruises later, Babs staggered back to her feet and headed in the direction of the Nurse’s Office.
Life wasn’t kind to the poor girl. Born into a dysfunctional family with a caring mother and workaholic father, Babs had had a tough childhood. Her skin was a light brown, and she had ruby red (or was it pink? Nobody was quite sure) hair, which frequently got in her eyes. As was usual, she was wearing a striped brown and red shirt and green slacks, paired with a pair of old red and white trainers. Puberty had not been kind to her at all. Having hit adolescence so quickly, she had become quiet and withdrawn, generally preferring to stay out of people’s way.
That is, until a group of boys had decided to start picking on her. It had started with them repeatedly asking her out; given they were lowlifes and slobs, it was of no surprise that she rejected them on each occasion.
Then the bullying had begun. It usually consisted of them mocking her over her name, or the fact she was related to folks out West (though, frankly, who isn’t?). When it had got the point of calling her fat (which she wasn’t), she had snapped, and gone as far as punching one of them as hard as she could, knocking him out.
In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest of moves. Not only had it earned her an after-school detention, now on her record, it also meant her tormentors saw her as fair game. Now they simply punched and kicked her, or stole money from her. As a result, she rarely got any lunch and came home starving.
Even her home was no longer a refuge. She had taken to soccer and video games as respites from the grind of the day, and even made friends online with somebody called ZapApple. But the tormentors found her eventually. They infiltrated the chat of her favourite games, once interrupting a run of World of Tanks. She had blocked them as fast as she could, but they simply came back over and over again.
So, her days were the same, over and over again. Wake up, get dressed, have breakfast. Get on the train to school. Get beaten up upon arrival. Go to lessons. Get put into detention for lacking homework that had been stolen. Get her lunch money taken. End up in detention again. Attend a last few lessons, then go home. Do homework (or not bother, as it got nicked anyway), go to bed. Repeat.
The nurse applied some medication to Bab’s bruises. “You're having a lot of accidents lately,” she said.
“I’m fine, really,” Babs replied, in that mildly disinterested manner she always did.
“If you say so,” the nurse replied. Babs suspected she knew she was being bullied, but she didn’t tell anyone. No adult would believe her anyway. It wasn’t as if she’d been an angel when she was younger.
“OK, you’re ready to go to class,” the nurse finished.
“Yeah, thanks,” Babs answered, and walked out of the door.
After lessons had ended, she was walking down the corridor when one of her bullies walked in her way. “Fancy having some fun?” he said.
“If ya wanna go to bed with me, the answer is no,” she replied, shoving past him. “Chrissakes, I’m 12!”
He grabbed her shoulder. “I take it then you’d prefer the fist sandwich.”
Babs snorted. He was big, but sloppy. She could take him, no problem. She spun around, giving him a blow to the nose. He tumbled to the floor.
‘Now for the finishing move’, Babs thought, as she brought her foot down on his ribcage.
“Fuck...you!” he shouted.
“I hope you've finally got the message,” she growled, and walked away.
Babs finally got to her home in Edison, New Jersey, around 5. The snow was falling again, and the temperatures were dropping. She shoved her key in the lock and opened the door.
It was a fairly standard suburban affair. A two-story building, it had a sitting room, a kitchen, a laundry, and upstairs there were 4 bedrooms. One was a guest bedroom, one belonged to her parents, the Oranges, another for her sister Sunflower, and finally her own. Seriously, what was it with their family and naming their kids after seeds?
She ran up the stairs, dumped her bag by the door and sat down at her desk. As usual, her mom wasn't back from work. That meant reheated enchiladas, as usual. At least that meant she wouldn’t have to brace the local cafe again. The food there was greasy and soggy. Seriously, Babs hadn’t had a crisp piece of bacon in years!
Her dad often stayed over in Manhattan, as that was where he worked. As a result, he was rarely around and Babs didn’t really know him. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t care either.
Just as she was about to start up her computer, there was a loud squeak as the door lock opened. Her mother stepped in, not looking pleased. “Babs!” she shouted.
“What?”
“I just got a call from the school saying you beat a student up! The Principal wants to see you in a meeting tonight!”
Priscilla Orange stepped up the stairs to talk to her daughter. She had yellow skin and orange hair, with blue eyes. She was dressed in the nondescript business suit she wore every day to work. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
“I wouldn’t have to do this if the school just dealt with the problem,” Babs replied.
“You shouldn’t do this at all!” Priscilla shot back. “Attacking other people is wrong!”
“So’s bullying, but the Principal seems to have no issue with that!”
Mrs Orange grabbed Bab’s wrist, and dragged her downstairs. “I don’t think your father will be pleased.”
“I doubt he’ll give a fuck!” Babs shot back.
After a train journey spent in absolute silence, the two of them arrived back at the school, with Babs scowling at the floor the whole time with her arms crossed.
The Principal invited them in through the door. “Good evening,” he said. He was a slim man with grey skin and black hair, dressed in a horrible red suit that made him look a business executive from the 1940s.
“Principal Neighsay, can I just say I’m sorry this happened, I thought Babs had got beyond this.”
“Not to worry, Mrs Orange, I can deal with this.” He turned his chair to look at Babs. “Why did you do it?”
Babs shifted in her seat. “Because he made inappropriate passes at me,” she said.
“So that’s why you punched him?”
“No, I punched him because he’s a creep, has been abusing me for weeks on end, and smashing his face in was doing the world a favour.”
Neighsay looked shocked. “I suspected they were causing you trouble, but I spoke to them and they said they weren’t causing any trouble to you.”
“You really think they’ll admit it to you?” Babs snorted. “If you’d bothered to check any of your cameras, you’d see that they’ve been beating me up for a while now! And it’s not the physical stuff, it’s the emotional abuse.”
Mrs Orange looked shocked. “I had no idea it was this bad,” she said.
“Yeah, well it is this bad,” Babs snapped. “Like saying I’m fat, or that I smell of pepperoni, or stealing my homework, or nicking my clothes. Yeah, they took my shirt once, and 3 pairs of trainers.”
“I can back her up on that one,” Mrs Orange said, the same look of shock on her face. “I’d wondered how you’d got through so many pairs of trainers!”
“Well, you coulda asked!” Babs told her. “It got worse when they drew my family into it. They claimed that Dad was fucking women in Manhattan when he stays overnight!”
“Language!” shouted Neighsay.
“What’s it gonna take before you do somethin’, huh?” Babs shouted in his face.
“If you don’t tell us, there’s not a lot we can do.”
“There’s loads you can do! You could, I dunno, block social media in the school? Limit use of the computers? What kind of a Principal are ya?”
Neighsay looked over to Mrs Orange. “Mrs Orange, I believe this meeting is over.”
“Good!” Babs roared. “Because I’m done with listenin’ ta yer shit anyway.” She stormed out without so much as a second thought.
When they got back home, dinner was ready. Mr Orange was sat at the table, reading a newspaper. He had yellow skin and green hair, and wore an equally drab business suit. He looked over, to see his daughter standing there.
“Good evening, Babs,” he said.
“Is that it?” she asked, confused. “I’ve had an absolutely crap day, and all you have to say is ‘good evening?”
“Please refrain from swearing,” Mr Orange replied. “And that doesn’t justify what you did today.”
“She’s being bullied,” Mrs Orange informed her husband.
“As if it wasn’t obvious,” Babs grunted.
Another girl appeared at the door. She was taller than Babs, and had pink skin and yellow hair. She was wearing a black skirt and a striped shirt, colours of red and black.
“Oh wow,” she said. “If it isn’t my little brother.” She was much more feminine than Babs, and had a habit of referring to Babs as a boy due to her behaviour.
“Nice to see you to Sunflower,” Babs retorted.
The family sat down to an evening meal, which as usual was reheated. The conversation mostly revolved around the day.
“So, it turns out she was simply retaliating for her treatment at their hands.”
Sunflower snorted. “More like, Babs can’t control her temper. Must be all those video games she plays.”
Babs looked up from her food. “You got a problem or somethin’?”
“Maybe you should get gender reassignment, given you basically are a boy.”
Babs’ fuse blew. Her gender was a topic she was touchy on, given she got the impression that her parents wanted two little girls rather than the angsty tomboy she was. The very thought of changing herself was anathema to her, and was the last straw.
“Shut the fuck up!” she yelled at Sunflower.
Mr Orange slammed his fist on the table. “That’s it!” he yelled. “Babs, you’re grounded.”
“What?” Babs exclaimed. “I’m the victim here, and you punish me? I don’t believe this!”
She ran for the door, and before slamming it behind her, shouted, “I’m sick of this bullshit! I HATE YOU ALL!”
The door crashed shut behind her as she ran upstairs.
Mrs Orange glared at Sunflower.
Babs simply jumped under her blankets, sobbing. Why did the world hate her so much? It wasn’t fair. Her parents didn’t give a shit, her sister constantly mocked her, and her school didn’t care!
There was a knock at the door. “Babs?”
“Go away!”
“I want to talk.”
“I said get lost!”
Her mother opened the door. “I think you need a break from it all.”
“How would that help?” Babs was incredulous. “Where can I go?”
Mrs Orange smiled. “I think I know a place...”