at the local high school, Justin was firmly entrenched in the school’s A-list. The last thing his teenage ego needed was a little brother with too-long hair and his nose permanently buried in a book. With his cool friends to consider, Justin quietly withdrew from Kendall, only nodding briefly when he saw him in the corridors.
“Isn’t that your brother?” his latest girlfriend would ask. Justin’s response was usually to shrug, sometimes to murmur, “Yeah, but he’s adopted.”
And so he missed Kendall’s tightrope walk to the edge, the quiet signs that this victim was getting ready for payback.
Bullying
High school was a daily trial for Kendall Mullins.
Each day when he woke up he would delay the inevitable ritual of getting out of bed and dressing in the starched blue school uniform he so despised.
Despite the best efforts of his adoptive mother Debbie, he refused to cut his hair. Fortunately, the only school the Mullins family could afford was not the most disciplinarian in that respect. His long hair was his only hold on to individuality, and there was nothing his classmates could do to take it away from him. Oh, they taunted, but he ignored them. He was proud of it, even though it earned him more teasing, made him even more different. That was the point, he said to Justin. Who’d want to be like them anyway?
The Mullins brothers, how unlike they were, Kendall thought bitterly. Everyone knew he was adopted. His brother had the straight nose and sleek jaw. What did he have? Pale skin that highlighted his acne?
He scowled at the thought.
He liked his pale skin. And his hair.
Despite his defiant appearance, Kendall felt every morning that it took all his willpower just to walk out of the house, along the familiar pavements to the school gate, and even more strength to pass through it.
From that point onwards, he was no longer free. He belonged to his tormentors – his classmates.
Kendall had tried everything to stem the abuse. He tried arriving at school half an hour early and hiding in an empty classroom, but a teacher would usually find him and chase him out. He then tried the opposite tactic, getting to school after the bell had already rung, but he would always be caught by the prefects and given detention.
He walked into the main quad with his face aimed squarely at the ground. Meeting anyone’s gaze that early in the day would spell doom.
He steadied himself for the gauntlet.
All around him, groups of students were sitting cross-legged on the grass waiting for the bell to ring. A few boys were playing soccer on the field further away. He avoided them carefully, in case an ill-timed glance earned him a ball to the head.
Next, Kendall weaved through the groups littering the lawns, walking as fast as possible. He held his books in front of him like a life preserver. A few students laughed as he approached.
“Hey, Kendall, what shampoo did you use on your hair this morning?” a girl shouted.
Kendall ignored the barb and carried on walking. He thought he recognised the voice – one of the girls from his class – but he didn’t look to see who it was.
“Does your mother comb it for you?”
He heard the laughter recede as he quickened his pace. If anyone had said something like that to his brother, Justin wouldn’t have hesitated in tackling the speaker to the ground.
Kendall sighed. He wasn’t like his brother at all. He had never been in a fight in his life, and if he ever found himself in one, he wouldn’t be able to fight back – and he knew it would only make the situation worse, anyway.
That was his problem, Kendall thought bitterly. He managed to convince himself that something was a bad idea long before he was even in the situation.
“I’m such a wimp,” he whispered to himself.
He approached the main building. Someone in the school’s recent past – Principal Van Niekerk maybe – had decided to paint the exterior white. Maybe it’s supposed to look pure, thought Kendall. Pure hell, more like.
He entered through the double doors into the familiar corridors as if in a dream. Nameless students taunted him as he passed. Someone would shove him hard with their shoulder; another would throw an empty water bottle. He never looked up to see who his assailant was. It didn’t matter anyway. It was always a circus in the mornings, and the teachers were always conveniently absent. The sound of the bell ringing turned the jumble into a rush as students began migrating down the dull pink passages from every entrance and doorway. They reminded him of sheep being herded into pens.
Kendall kept his face passive as his course was navigated for him by the masses. He saw his brother Justin walking among a group of boys to his left. They were laughing at some private joke. Justin grinned and his face lit up, accentuating his handsome features. His long black fringe fell into his face as he laughed, and he swept it aside casually. He never smiled like this at home. Their father saw to that.
The brothers’ eyes met for the briefest second, but Justin looked away first. At school, Kendall was alone, a fact he had accepted long ago. It wasn’t personal. The group passed on, as Kendall was shoved again. He didn’t resent his brother for his good looks, but it was painfully apparent that they were not biological brothers. Kendall wasn’t handsome, and he slouched, unlike Justin who almost swaggered with confidence.
Someone was trying to get his attention from across the passage: David from a few of his classes. He was trying to ask him something, but Kendall couldn’t hear above the din, and a second later the mob had pushed him out of sight.
He ducked out of the throng into a side passage and made his way to the first class of the day. The rest of the class were lining up outside, and Kendall took his place at the back of the queue, staring at the floor. Even inside the building, he was careful not to make eye contact with anyone.
Someone grabbed him roughly and a sharp pain exploded behind his eyes as his head hit the wall. David had shoved him.
“Don’t ever ignore me like that again. I was asking you a question, moron.” He pushed Kendall one last time and the rest of the class laughed, like they always did. Kendall felt the tears well in his eyes, but he pushed them back, determined not to give the other students the satisfaction of seeing him lose it.
It was just another school day after all.
Guidance class
Kendall never really understood why some of the other students were so obsessed by his faith – if you could call it that – when they never showed any outward signs of having any themselves.
He had been labelled a Satanist since eighth grade, because of his long dark hair and quiet ways. The fact that he was a troubled child didn’t seem to enter anyone’s mind at all. Even his adoptive parents Debbie and Gregory worried about their youngest son. His dabbling in things he didn’t understand seemed an easy answer as to why he was so different to Justin – why he didn’t enjoy sport or have any friends.
In reality, Kendall was anything but a child of Satan. He always said his prayers at night, since his days at the orphanage. He had vague memories of
