Barn Fight

"...Try talking it out." My mother had coolly and calmly advised.

"...and when that doesn't work, lead with your left." My father snorted.

I loved Marian and John Winnip as my parents, of course; neither of them had clearly ever dealt with Otis Krafft, or the gang of friends that he consistently had as back-up...

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I think this started when Lester Thomas moved to our school district as an alien to us all. I mean, one summer, we all knew each other when we left; the next thing we knew, we were entering fifth grade and, presto, there was Lester.

I suppose that most of us were simply trying to work out amongst one another how best to first approach Lester and make him feel welcome. Otis had no time to dwell on such niceties; and, like most kids who were much bigger, tougher, and stronger than anyone else in class, he kept around a steady group of cronies to support his endeavors.

I had sat there quietly as Lester was verbally ribbed for his first couple of weeks at school. I wouldn't have liked that if it were me; however, Lester seemed to quietly take it. I said nothing against the wordplay; I didn't exactly approach him and introduce myself warmly either.

Then, one Monday morning, verbal teasing, ostracizing, and degrading devolved into physical bullying.

It happened on the bus ride to school. I had barely boarded the bus and found my seat when I overheard the exchange.

"You're not one of us!" Chet Simson growled.

"You don't belong here!" added Leroy Avery.

There was little question in my mind who they were talking to. Nevertheless, the verbal altercation was enough to attract everyone's attention, not just my own.

Sure enough, Lester Thomas was in his seat and minding his own business; and found himself flanked by Otis Krafft and two of his underlings.

"Why don't you just go back to where you came from?" Otis spat.

With that, he snatched Lester's backpack. With that, Lester was done pretending to ignore the bullying.

"You give that back!" he shouted.

I was rather proud of him for sticking up for himself now; however, it did look a little ridiculous for anyone to stand up to Otis and his cronies. As evidence, Otis tossed the backpack across the aisle to Chet, who fired it across to Leroy on Lester's left. Leroy snagged the bag and, as Lester reached for it, dumped it right back over the seat to Otis.

I assumed that Otis meant to shoot the bag back to Leroy. However, he didn't recognize his own strength and fired it across the bus to me instead. Rather than correct the error, the bullies honestly thought that I wanted to play too.

"Winnip, we're open!" Otis hollered across the hooting laughter of students.

"Yeah!" Chet added.

I'd heard enough long ago; I had finally seen enough.

"Here!" I called back to Lester, pitching the backpack to its rightful owner.

The new guy caught his bag, to the detriment of the bullies, and secured it in his lap.

"Thanks," he called back to me, "for nothing!"

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I was dumbstruck. I mean, what had that been all about? It's not like I had asked Otis and his pals to mistreat the new guy! I'd even stopped them! However, if Lester seemed unappreciative, then Otis and his friends felt slighted; and I knew why too...

"Winnip!" Otis hollared across the bus.

At that, all of our classmates' attention was on me. Even at ten years old, we knew the difference between good and bad attention; this was the bad kind. However, you didn't just ignore Otis either.

"Yeah?" I answered him back, propping myself up in my seat.

"Friday afternoon; the old MacKyle barn; 4:00!" Otis announced. "You don't want my boys and I to have to come find you!"

That was the moment that the bus driver chose to address our behavior. He hollered at me to sit down and face front. Otis and his friends seemed to find that rather humorous. I was no longer in the mood to laugh...

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I was an obedient kind of kid and, therefore, told my parents about the altercation. My mother wanted to be proud of me for choosing now to stick up for the new kid; my father suggested that I had been "walked on" for a reason. However, their opinions weren't about to change what had happened and I was about to have a fight on my hands. That had led to their next batch of life advice...

Everyone in town knew of the old, abandoned MacKyle family barn. It was anyone's guess why it was still standing. Anyway, a bunch of us kids liked to use it as a clubhouse for our friends and us. Groups usually understood when another group had occupied the barnhouse and they would wait patiently for their turn. In turn, groups tried to keep their visits to the barn to a minimum.

Then, Otis and his gang had decided that the old barnhouse would be their permanent clubhouse. No other groups of our peers needed apply. I was the first outside of Otis's steady group to be "invited in;" and we all knew why that was...

If I was expected at 4:00 that afternoon, I walked in at 3:45. Maybe that would buy me some clemency. Otis and his pals were already lying in wait for me. At this time, I kind of wish that Lester had been grateful enough to side with me. I didn't want him to stand with me in my barn fight; it might have simply been nice to have the degree of support. No dice. Lester, the kid who kind of had started this all with his arrival, wasn't even in the group of our classmates to watch.

Otis saw me enter and hopped down from a haystack to approach me through the mob of our peers.

"Here early, chump?" Otis demanded.

"I did what I did." I answered, shaking out my arms. "I'm ready to answer for my actions."

"Well, isn't that a big brave guy?" Otis sneered. "Good; we'll get this over with sooner. I've got places to be!"

With that, Leroy grabbed a wireless microphone and paced up and down the crowd of onlookers who had arrived early.

"In this corner, Otis Krrraaaaafft!" Leroy bellowed.

His buddies applauded the announcement as most of our classmates remained respectfully silent.

"...aaaand, to my right," Leroy barked, "Alllex Winnnnnip!"

"WIMP! WIMP! WIMP!" Otis's pals chanted the amendment.

I decided that they hadn't meant the chant to support me.

"Thanks for getting my name right." I hissed at Leroy.

"Get in there, wimp!" Leroy answered me, shoving me toward Otis.

With that, I did hear an old bell that had been snuck into the rundown barn. That bell was a signal and I was midway through my trajectory forward after being shoved. Otis accepted that and cocked back with his left fist.

Miraculously, I did duck under his left jab and left the lummox stumbling forward instead. With that, I remembered my dad's advice and, since mom's advice had been a bust, decided to give his a chance. I flashed forward with my left fist. My left knuckle met Otis's right with a crack that could have only satisfied him. My left hand was basically useless to me for a second; Otis could finish the connection of his right haymaker.

This wasn't working out in my favor. I was still alive; that was meant to count for something. However, if I wanted that to continue to be the case, I'd have to find a way out of harm's way if only for a moment.

I backed up to the old haystacks in the abandoned barn and scaled them so that I could sit on an overhanging rafter for a moment. The moment of running had disappointed our classmates; I'd have to accept their disappointment in me. After all, there was next to no chance of my winning a physical conflict.

Suddenly, the stacks of hay started crumbling down. Then, I heard the irate grunts from a boy one year my senior and about 25 pounds more of muscle. I won't deny it; I gulped. Otis was surprisingly quick and agile for someone of his frame!

The haystacks finished collapsing beneath the force of his movements and his weight. However, Otis was already on the old beam with me and he was on his feet.

I quickly and cautiously got my feet under me and put my arms in defense. That looked like an invitation to Otis and he flung forward with a wild punch.

The beam was just wide enough for me; it wasn't quite so for Otis. The momentum sent my bully careening over the side; and I could just see our classmates thinking that I had underhandedly planned that out.

Otis didn't deserve what I did next. However, I saw little choice in the matter. I reached over and caught Otis by a sleeve at least long enough to slow his descent and impact. I wasn't about to be able to pull him up; I could at least slow him down without being dragged down with him.

I felt the jerk that meant that Otis's momentum had stopped for a moment, then let go before I could be pulled over. The old barn still seemed to shake from a few inches left in Otis's descent.

"Get back down here!" he shouted, obviously grateful for the assist.

He had a point and I made my way across the old, broken-down beam to the steps that had just become my only way down. I made my way down the stairs and the rubberneckers cleared an aisle with the understanding that the stairs had just become my way down.

From the third step, I had a good vantage point on the approaching Otis and we had all faced his bullying for long enough...

I flung forward with a punch of my own. It was about as weak as I had come to expect from myself; nonetheless, it was enough that Otis gave pause before his next retaliatory blow...

In that moment, in that old barn, time stood still and the dynamics of our classmates shifted. Win or lose this time, I would have at least some of my peers in my corner for next time. Who knew; when all was said and done, maybe I could try to befriend Lester again? Because childhood was full of enough bullies (I ducked under another of Otis's punches); sometimes, you needed one or two more friends (I adjusted my standing position and moved before one of Otis's friends got involved and held me still for a free shot). With that, in that old run down barn, my momentary battlefield, I threw another punch from another position...