.........Rebecca put her book bag on the ground and peered down into my eyes.

“Oh! So now it’s funny? If I have to repeat myself one more time I’m gonna whoop you so bad you gonna wish you was neva born girl! Bitch you betta speak the fuck up!”

She was so close to me; I could feel the heat of her breath and the spit from her mouth as I stood there in my blue corduroy skirt and white blouse that my mother made me wear for picture day. Her sweat was building and it almost made me laugh again, but I knew that would seal my death for sure.

I decided to back up first to give myself some breathin’ space then blurted out again, “I said! You a doofus Rebecca! You too old to be in the fifth grade. You almost as old as my mama! And you wear too much grease in yo’ hair. Yo’ mama ain’t teach you how to do yo’ hair?"

My voice was like a squeak.

"And why you steal Becca? Yo’ family ain’t got no money or somethin?”

She asked for it, so she got it.

Tears weld up in my eyes from anger and I put on my fightin’ stance, ready to give her everything I had; ready to throw blows. But Rebecca just looked at me and walked away.

Her reaction threw me off. I knew I would catch it later and since I had already built myself up, instead of countin’ my blessings and lettin’ her walk away, I lifted my skirt so I wouldn’t trip and ran as fast as my skinny knock knees would go and jumped on her back, pullin’ out her hair yellin’ and screamin’ and gettin’ out all my frustration.

I imagined she was the man who raped me last night. I imagined she was one of the neighbors who heard me scream for help and did nothing as my little body became a poundin’ mat for the 220 pound scumbag that destroyed my life. I thought about the counselor who didn’t believe me as each blow caught Rebecca in the head as I tried to draw blood.

“You big ugly bully! You just a bully! I ain’t scared-ah-you Rebecca Johnston! I ain’t scared!”

She threw me off of her like an annoying fly ticklin’ at her ear, bothersome but not threatenin’. I fell so hard to the ground I twisted my ankle. I thought Rebecca was going to stomp me for sure as a crowd started to gather ‘round. She looked at the faces and smirks and stood over me with her hands on her hips.

“You think you special!?” She screamed, saliva seepin’ out the sides of her mouth, hair lookin’ all crazy now, “Huh?” She asked as if she really expected an answer.

She looked at each of us one by one as if she was hopin’ someone would respond then continued.

“Well you ain’t muthafuckas! You ain’t! I’m the one who’s special! Not you lazy bums! I may be old but I ain’t no drop out depending on my momma for everything! Ya’ll don’t know nothin’ about me, Nothin! Nothin!”

I thought she was gonna cry too, but instead Rebecca swung her grown-up hips around and looked down at me, wavin’ her long skinny hands all frantic like.

“And I may have a lot of grease in my hair,” as she continued to fuss, I looked at the shiny, gooey, sticky matter oozin’ ‘cross her hair line. She say it was baby hair but Becca ain’t been a baby for a while now.

“But at least I got hair,” she went on, “and no matter what you think of me, you straggly, no shape, no hair, no money havin’ crud, I got class. And it’s a grade above all you ducks!”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and swerved her head with each word, pokin’ her over­developed breasts out, lookin’ ‘round at the faces again as everyone includin’ myself remained stunned in silence. I don’t know what was goin’ on in their heads as they watched this tall freckled face girl with too much jewelry and too much savvy tell us all off, but I was in awe and I admired her strength and only wished I could have been as strong last night.......