When I was in school, I always dreaded Physical Education or PE for short. We wuld get separated into boys and girls and placed on softball teams. The “coach” would always pick team captains from his favorite athletic players and they would then pick teams.

I would always be picked last.

I was always placed in the outfield (and I mean WAY outfield) where I would basically just sit and sun bathe until it was our turn to bat. Then I would be placed at the end of the bench so I was the last person to hit ball. Of course when it was my turn, my own team would let out a sign of disgust and everyone on the other team would smile and move very close in. Like I wasn’t nervous enough, this would cause me to sweat more and just pray the misery would end soon.

One summer day, a kid named Mike, on the other team, decided it was time to taunt me. Mike and I had been in school together since Kindergarten. When I got up to play he started calling me names and laughing about how I should be playing with the girls because at least I could do their nails.

I couldn’t believe someone who was nicknamed Mike “Booger” because of his last name would turn against me, the only boy who never called him that name. He didn’t think it was funny and stood up for him many times.

The other boy’s on his team started joining in and I just wanted to run and cry but I didn’t for some reason, I just got pissed.

Maybe it was the hot summer humidity, maybe it was being tired of being picked last or maybe it was just time but I was pissed at all the boys, every one of them but especially Mike who should have known how it felt to be picked on.

I walk up to bat. I knew when the pitcher threw the ball I would miss and spin myself around from swinging the bat which would lead to even more teasing. But it was different this time, I was pissed. When I get to the plate, all I can think about is Mike “Booger” and his comments and name calling. He is still leading the pack taunting me and even the “coach” has started laughing at their names.

The pitcher throws the ball and I swing. I swing as Mike says, “Don’t break a nail” and shakes his limp wrist gesture at me and mimics me crying.

WHACK! I hit that damn ball and I hit it hard

Everyone was in shock. No one on either teamed moved as I dropped the bat and started to hail ass around the bases. No one had moved as I smiled when I made it to third and realized I was going to make it home. No one had moved when I hit home plate with a giant smile on my face and turned to see all the boys crowded in a circle on the field.

Yes, no one had moved when I hit that ball because no one expected, especially Mike “Booger”. The ball I hit so hard went flying straight into Mike’s right eye. No one, especially him was prepared for the hit and it knocked him HARD in the eye. Everyone was crowded around him as he laid, in the crawled up like a baby, on the green grass crying and sobbing loudly as he covered his eye with both if his hands.

I just stared at the circle of boys when one of Mike’s teammates looked up and said, “LOOK WHAT YOU DID! Aren’t you going to say sorry?!!!”

I slowly walked over to the boys and said, “I am sorry. I am sorry, Mike, that I hit you in the eye but at least I didn’t break a nail.”

I smirked and walked away.

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