When did it all begin? I guess it was about a week ago. Today’s Saturday, right? I think so. In that case, it was about a week ago. I was taking my morning shower and was cleaning my back when I felt a strange bump right in the center, between my shoulder blades. Obviously when something like that happens your first thought is that you have cancer and you’re going to die. Well, it’s true that I thought I was going to die, but that thought didn’t stay in my head for long. Every Sunday is Bacon Day at my house, so I knew that as soon as I got out of the shower Mom would have a plate full of piping hot bacon ready for me. That was enough to distract me from the lump and I didn’t think about it for the rest of the day.
Monday was a little different. I was taking my morning shower and was cleaning my back when I felt the bump again and remembered that it was there. Well, to call it a “bump” might not be accurate. It was cold and hard and it was sticking out a lot farther than it was the day before. Actually, I could grab on to it. It was a handle. I couldn’t believe it. It was an embarrassing thing to have sticking out of your back, for sure, and I decided not to tell my parents about it. They would probably overreact and end up doing something crazy, like taking me to the doctor to get it removed. I figured that as long as it wasn’t interfering with my daily life it was better to leave it alone, and now that I knew it wasn’t cancer I felt pretty relieved.
School that day was no different than normal. I constantly get bullied because I’m smarter than everyone else, but it doesn’t really bother me because I know that when I’m older I’ll be successful and have a respectable job while the bullies will work at a car dealership or a grocery store. During lunch it suddenly hit me that today was a gym class day and that I would have to change my clothes in the locker room in front of all the other boys. If any of them saw my handle, I wasn’t sure what they would do to me. I considered feigning an illness so that I could skip gym class but didn’t have the balls to follow through with that plan. So, gym class rolled around and there I stood in the locker room surrounded by shirtless, muscular boys. I kept my back to the wall as I removed my shirt and trousers and began to slip into my gym class onesie. I got a leg caught in the onesie, though, and fell flat on my face with a very loud “thump”. All the other boys started laughing at me, but that laughter quickly turned into something else.
“Ayo, the fuck’s that shit pokin’ out his back?” said one of the boys.
“Fuck if I know, du,” replied another. The rest seemed to agree.
“Looks like a fuckin’ suitcase or some shit, god damn!”
I knew what was coming next and I wanted to die because of it. Everyone began to chant “Pick him up! Pick him up!” and then I felt pressure on my back as I was lifted into the air. I looked up and realized that I was face to face with Detraveus Jones, the most ruthless bully in the whole school. Even though both his parents were white, he gave off strong Roman warlord vibes. I couldn’t look at him for long, because just seeing his powerful face staring at mine filled my heart with a pure and primal fear. All at once, the rest of the boys started whacking me like I was some kind of pinata, and all I could do was hang there and take it. Once the beating was over Detraveus let go of my handle and I dropped into a heap on the floor. I laid there for a while, until everyone else had left the locker room, and then I finished changing into my onesie and went to gym class. Detraveus and the boys gave me another beating after gym class ended.
By Tuesday, everyone in the school knew about my handle. Even the girls knew about it, calling me “handle boy” at every available opportunity. I was used to this kind of stuff. Maybe it got to me a little, but I’d like to see anyone else do better under those circumstances. The teachers seemed to know about it, too. When my English teacher was taking attendance, I could swear she tried to suppress a giggle when she called my name. Teachers are just overgrown children. Who cares what they think?
On Wednesday I went to take my morning shower and realized that the faucet, which had once been at chest height with me, was now just above my head and I had to reach upwards to turn it. My clothes were way too large, too, but I didn’t really have any alternatives. I couldn’t go to school naked, after all. All the other students towered over me, and because my legs were so much shorter than I was used to it was a struggle to even get to class on time. I could no longer run away from Detraveus or the other bullies, and so they had their way with me while I was completely helpless.
Thursday was more of the same. I was even shorter than before, much shorter than any boy my age should be. I skipped the morning shower because I wasn’t even close to being tall enough to reach the faucet. My clothes didn’t even come close to fitting me now, so I swiped some doll clothes from my sister’s room. I had to leave my backpack at home, and even getting onto the bus was a struggle. When one of the girls saw me making my way down the aisle, she picked me up by the handle and set me down next to her. She didn’t say anything, though, in fact she did it so casually that I couldn’t even tell whether there was any malice in it. When we arrived at school I started to move out of my seat, but before I could do anything I was hoisted into the air again by the girl and off we went. I tried yelling at her, demanding that she put me down, but my words didn’t appear to reach her. Once she arrived at her locker she put me in it along with her bag. I tried to escape, tried to break the door open from the inside, but it was locked tight and eventually I just had to give up.
A few hours passed, and then at last the locker door opened and I saw my shot at freedom. I sprinted, full speed, out of the locker, but the girl simply grabbed me by the handle and I was once again totally helpless. This time she took me to the cafeteria and set me down on a table. I glanced around and saw that there were other girls sitting there, too, most of them cute. I supposed there was no harm in sticking around, then. If I did try to run away, after all, there was a very good chance that I would run into Detraveus. The girls were talking about Takis, some seemed to be pro Taki and some seemed to be anti-Taki. It wasn’t a very interesting conversation, but just listening to the sound of them talking helped lift my spirits a little. My focus was split in two, however, when I suddenly felt a hand force its way into my mouth and root around in my stomach. I tried my best not to gag, but it was very hard not to. The hand withdrew, and in it was a ham sandwich that looked just like the one I’d eaten the day before. Then, the hand went in again, this time pulling out an apple. Then, a bag of chips. I felt completely overwhelmed and passed out where I stood. When I woke up, I was lying outside the bus stop and it was dark. I walked home and went straight to bed.
Friday was even worse. I felt bloated, so I asked Mom if I could stay home from school, but she didn’t seem to believe that anything was wrong with me and insisted that I go anyway. Once I was on the bus I ducked under the front seats, hoping that the girl from the day before wouldn’t see me. As it turned out doing that was pointless, because the boy sitting in the front seat picked me up instead. Things played out as they had with the girl, and so I spent the first half of the day waiting around inside the boy’s locker. The locker smelled like rotten eggs and piss, and there were bugs inside that kept crawling on me and biting at my skin. Lunchtime rolled around, and off I was ferried to the cafeteria. I could immediately tell from the conversation going on around me that I was at the nerd table. They were talking about Warhammer which, believe it or not, is something that people still care about these days. Under normal circumstances I would have fallen asleep, but once again I had a hand shoved down my throat and any hope I had of having a pleasant day was instantly gone. I could taste the dirt under the boy’s nails, and the hair on his knuckles tickled the back of my throat. Out came a plastic bag full of Cheetos, then a Twinkie, then a few grapes. I was able to hold on to my consciousness, then, but to be honest it probably would have been better if I hadn’t. After lunch I was shoved back into that disgusting locker, and instead of spending the remaining hours of the school day passed out and at peace, I was constantly swatting at bugs and trying not to inhale piss fumes. It was, in a word, an awful day.
So, now it’s Saturday. My arms and legs seem even shorter, now, like they’re almost retracting into my body. I don’t think it’s puberty, it must be something else. I can’t say for sure. When I look in the mirror I see myself, only I’m a lot shorter and my proportions are kind of fucked up. I’m definitely not fully a lunchbox yet. I’m in the process of becoming one. I really don’t want to go to school next week, but I don’t have any choice in the matter when it comes to that. Mom just doesn’t seem to understand anything I’m saying when I try to tell her what’s been going on. No matter what I say or who I talk to, nobody will hear me out. Why? I spent all night thinking about that, but I couldn’t really come up with an answer. So, I guess that means I’m all alone. Forever? Maybe. I don’t know if I like the sound of that. I definitely don’t like that sound of that. I suppose there’s summer vacation to look forward to, at least.