Well, not really my first fight, but the fight where I first fought back.
We had a bully in my grandmother’s neighborhood. The typical bully, and we all know the type. Bigger than all the kids (because he was older), smoked all the time, and was generally dirty. He had a name: Chucky. And to this day, I can’t hear that name and not cringe.
My grandmother lived on Wetzel Street in Paden City. I spent a lot of time there growing up, mostly on the weekends (Meemaw loved having us over. All grandmothers do). I don’t remember my first real confrontation with Chucky, although I’m fairly certain it was in Meemaw’s back yard. But I’ll never forget my last.
Chucky lived two streets over from Meemaw in a house that was converted into apartments. Similar to what landlords did to the old Victorian houses in college towns. More apartments? More tenants. You could generally tell from looking at the outside of this place that, if you had a choice, you didn’t want to grow up there. You could also see that the landlord was no a tight budget. Nobody wanted to live there, but a few didn’t have a choice I guess. I was the kid with the nice grandmother whose parents drove cars that weren’t falling apart. I was also a lot smaller than him. I had to look like an easy target.
Chucky had an older brother. I remember hearing a few years later that he had killed himself, but I don’t remember when. The only thing I really remember about that was that I didn’t understand. I was way too young to understand the heavy thoughts of suicide. And so was Chucky, probably. It could have been why he was the way he was.
Sometime in the third grade, my parents enrolled me in Tae Kwon Do classes in Sistersville. Twice a week I was taught a different kind of discipline, coupled with learning how to defend myself and how to make good decisions. My parents knew what it would instill in me: strength, discipline, hard work. I only knew that it would be my chance to not be afraid of people. To not be afraid of Chucky.
I rode the bus to school every day. I was picked up on Washington Street, and 10 or 12 stops later, we arrived at school. The last stop before school was Chucky’s stop. Right outside of his house. And generally, if Chucky got on the bus, he made life miserable for at least one person. Usually, that person was me.
So, I went through elementary school always afraid of Chucky. He never really hurt me, but did strike a lot of fear inside of me. After arriving at school, he generally disappeared from my life. But those 4 minutes it took to get from Chucky’s stop to Paden City Elementary were absolute Hell.
Until one fateful day…
I had been taking Tae Kwon Do for about nine months to a year, I would guess. As a child, you progress quickly, as your aptitude for learning is much higher than when you are older. So after a little under a year, I thought I might be ready.
It was a fall Friday. Everybody always wore green, since those were the school colors. Some kids even painted their faces in preparation of the football game that night. In West Virginia, the fall colors are striking, and, especially in Paden City, they’re downright beautiful. The leaves go from green to a dark red to a burning orange to a nearly school bus yellow. I remember getting on the bus that morning with the utmost confidence in myself. I had my Wildcat t-shirt on, my new Adidas school shoes, and my Husky jeans. I was tough and I was ready. I said “Hi” to Lana, the bus-driver, and took my seat around the middle of the bus. That way, when push came to shove, I had room to work. All of this was running through my third-grade head.
We get to Chucky’s stop. There he is. I can see him. He’s getting on the bus, and he’s sitting near me. The ideal spot would be for him to not pick on me today. An option he chooses, as he picks on some other poor soul to inflict his will upon. Lucky me.
I’m not sure who he picked on that day. I can’t remember if it was a boy or a girl. Twenty-two years later it doesn’t make a difference. Although, it gave me a chance to make my move.
I bravely stood up, walked over to Chucky, and tapped him on the shoulder. He stood up, towering above me.
“Why don’t you pick on me today?”
“What the hell for? He’s got money, and I’m gonna take it.” I’m pretty sure Chucky had greenish eyes. My eyes were made of fire that morning.
“No, leave him alone. Hit me.” This is the bravest I’ve ever been.
Since I’d been taking those Tae Kwon Do classes, I was used to sparring. I had taken a few punches, not real punches, but punches that sometimes didn’t feel all that great. I didn’t know what kind of punch Chucky threw, but I was fairly certain it was going to lead to discomfort.
Chucky smiled, clenched a fist, and fired it right into my shoulder. I’m pushed back, and a little stunned. But, it didn’t hurt. I knew I was still alive, but I wasn’t made enough. Yet.
“Hit me again. You ain’t got nothin’.” My heart was beating in my ears.
Again, Chucky hits me. Harder this time, in the other shoulder. This one hurt more. Actually, it hurt a lot. It’s time to roll.
The next thing I remember, our hands are flying at each other’s faces, rarely making contact. Chucky could throw his hands around, but he never really hit me, since I was a moving target. As much as you could move in a school bus walking-aisle. And then, it happened…
I made contact. I hit him, and I did damage. Square in the nose, and it drew blood. It also pumped my adrenaline level up a few notches. The world around me slowed down.
I hit him again, and he bent over. I had him. I’m going to win. The next flurry of strikes were at his stomach, because they always told me in class that once you had an opponent on his way down, you hit him in the stomach to take the rest of the wind out of him.
Chucky stayed bent over, and I let him catch his breath a little. I could see out the windows that we were almost at school. There was very little time left. Chucky was mad. Embarrassed. Bleeding.
He started to come after me again. I raised my left leg up and kick him, well, where it hurts. Three times. Down he goes. Down goes Chucky.
After that, I realized that all the kids on the bus were screaming. Chucky was down, and I was still standing.
“QUIET!”
The roar from the front of the bus made every kid stop in silence.
“Get your stuff and everybody off!” shouted Lana.
I grab my blue book bag, put my head down and start walking to the front door of the bus. I look at Lana as I’m heading off, and she smiled. Chucky never bothered me again. Nobody hardly spoke of it, in fear that I may get in trouble. All I know, to this day, was that the fight with Chucky was the greatest day of my elementary school life.
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