"Shut up, Bitch!" he said, and swung his fist into my eye.

                                    

                                          
[TRIGGER WARNING]
                          
January 29, 2000
                          
Yesterday was absolutely horrible. A bunch of freshmen and sophomores have been bugging and threatening James for the past couple of weeks, including Chris Walker. Last night, Maggie and I were going to the football banquet that was being held at the high school. There was going to be a varsity basketball game going on at the same time in the gym. When we got there, we met Jenna, Shauna, and Erin. James was there because he plays football and had to get his trophy. [Getting a trophy used to feel so good, even if everyone else on the whole team got one, too. It's been a long time since I've gotten a trophy. Too long.]
                          
My friends and I went into the gym first to watch the basketball game for a minute. Lots of people were there, including Chris Walker. So we went back to the banquet, which was in the cafeteria, to tell James that Chris was there, but Andrew was already talking to him. Andrew said, "He wants to fight you, man." Then Chris came into the cafeteria and came right up to us. "James." He said. "Let's go." "I need to get my trophy," James said nervously. "No. Come on, you pussy." And Chris left, expecting James to follow.
                          
And James did. "James, don't!" I said and tried to stop him, but he shook his head and kept walking. He thought he could take Chris, and he was going to get him to leave him alone once and for all. When I got out to the hallway, James and Chris were talking heatedly, surrounded by a bunch of random high schoolers. James said, "All right, we're gonna fight in the lobby back there. Come in whenever you're ready." And he turned to walk into the lobby.
                          
"Chris," I said, and reached out to touch his arm. "Why are you doing this? You don't need to." "Shut up, Bitch!" he said, and swung his fist into my eye. I wasn't so much hurt as just shocked that he would hit me like that. I stepped back and watched as three of his friends went into the lobby. And then James, followed by our friends, went in too, for some reason. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing [probably because I'd just gotten hit in the face], but I knew James was strong and I tried to have confidence in him.
                          
When we were all in there, Chris and James threw a few punches. James was on the floor almost immediately, but I told myself that was okay, because he would get back up. And he started to, but Chris kicked him in the face. Out of everything everyone was shouting, I picked out the word, "steel-toed boots." As Chris kicked James in the face again, I saw that yes, his boots had steel plates on the toes. I wanted to do something so badly, but I felt like I was going to throw up. Chris got James's limp body in a headlock and wouldn't let go. James wasn't even trying to get out - he wasn't moving at all. His face was turning from red to purple, and Chris just held him tighter. Finally, a high schooler got Chris off of him. Chris put his arms up in the air and whooped, "Yeah!" All his friends were like, "Yeah, man, you kicked his ass!"
                          
James lay in a heap on the floor. Blood was bubbling out of his mouth and the whole left side of his face was a mess. I went into the corner and threw up my dinner. When I came back, someone had carried James into the snack bar room, where he was sitting on a chair. The door was closed, but I could see him through the open snack bar window, and it made me cry. His mouth didn't even look like a mouth. It was covered in blood, and his face was all bashed in. The police had arrived, and they closed the window. But every so often the door opened to let in a paramedic or an officer, and I could hear James crying. His parents arrived from the banquet and disappeared inside the room.
                          
I sat outside the snack bar room with Louis and Scott. They were both crying and not even pretending not to cry, and I felt hysterical. James's mother came out after a while to inform us that James had a concussion and didn't know where he was or what had happened. Then a cop came out and said, "All right, everyone just move over there." But we didn't, because we wanted to see what he didn't want us to see. James was rolled out on a stretcher, covered with a white sheet except for his face, which was purple and bandaged and at least not so bloody anymore. His eyes were shut, and he looked dead. I wanted to run to him and hold him and put my hands on his face, but he was wheeled away down the hall.
                          
When I got home, the first thing I did was call Melanie and tell her what happened. She started crying, which made me start crying all over again. I went online and everyone was talking about it. Louis told me I was brave to try to stop it, but I didn't feel brave. I felt guilty, because really I just stood there and watched. There was probably nothing I could have done, but I don't know. I went to bed crying, wondering if James was okay.
                          
Today, I went over James's house to see how he was doing. He had Tyler and Louis over, too. When I got there, he answered the door. His lips were all cut up and the left side of his face was horribly bruised and his eye was swollen shut. But he was acting like himself and talking and laughing with us. He, Tyler, and Louis were pissed that Chris had hit me, because now I have a black eye, too.
                          
My dad made me go to the police station today to tell the cops the story, since I was a witness. There weren't that many witnesses, and most of them hadn't seen the whole thing. I showed the officer my black eye and he took pictures and told me that he would keep in touch with me about how I could help.