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Authors: Doug Wilhelm

BOOK: The Revealers
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He shoved me. “If he broadcasts anything with our names in it, I will personally …”
“You will personally what?”
We all looked around. Richie Tucker stepped out from the woods behind the tennis courts. He started coming toward us.
“You will personally what?” he said, walking up to Burke. He raised his eyebrows. “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” Burke said, turning away.
“Hey, Richie,” Blanchette said. “What's up, man?”
“That's what I wonder,” Richie said. He tapped his chin with one finger. “I see two guys pushing one kid around. I'm thinking, Is this a fight? It looks like a fight. Looks like fun. Two against one. I'm thinking it would be even more fun if it was … two against two.”
Burke and Blanchette were already backing away. “You remember what I said,” Burke said to me, not looking at Richie.
I grinned. Burke's face clenched up, then he glanced at Richie. He turned around and started walking away.
“We'll see you guys later,” Blanchette said, smiling.
Richie and I watched them go.
They left their ball.
 
“What was
that
about?” Richie said.
So I told him. “Those two dropped my friend off that
bridge. My friend had to go to the hospital, and he's still not back in school. He got mad. So he told the story of what happened and broadcast it to the whole seventh grade.”
“What, on the radio?”
“On KidNet.”
“You can do that?”
“We found out you can,” I said. “But Elliot, that's my friend, he didn't tell people those guys' names. Now they're worried he'll tell. They're trying to scare us.”
Richie looked at the Rots, walking down School Street. Blanchette glanced back at us. Richie snorted.
“They're squids,” he said.
I grinned. “Yeah.”
“They got nothing.”
“Naw.” I looked at him. “You know, you didn't have to do that.”
“Look, kid, here's how it is. You disrespect me, you pay. You piss me off, you get hurt. Okay? You understand that, we'll do all right. All right?”
I blinked. It took me a second to realize he was talking about punching me.
“Um … I didn't mean about that,” I said. “I meant just now—with those two. You didn't have to.”
“Have to what? Two guys acting like they're going to take you down? Just one of you? Hey, fair is fair.”
I shrugged. “Well, thanks.”
“Whatever. Hey, you know what? You stood up to those two.”
“I did?”
He shrugged. “Not bad.”
“Well … thanks.”
He shoved his hands in his jacket.
“You stood up to me, too,” he said.
“What?”
He shrugged. “You asked me those questions. Remember?”
“Yeah …”
“It was okay, you asking me those questions,” he said quickly. “I mean, I didn't mind it.”
“You seemed to mind it,” I mumbled. “You hit me.”
“Well … you just got to ask the right questions.”
I said, “Huh.” I had no idea what was going on. As usual.
“It's all right,” Richie said. “Stand up to people, you get respect. And … listen, kid. If you want to ask me questions again sometime, it's okay. You can.”
I had no idea what to say. Richie picked up the basketball and handed it to me.
“Here,” he said. “Hold on to your balls.”
“Oh, it's not mine. You need one?”
His eyebrows clenched and he got in my face. “What are you saying? Are you saying something?”
“What? No!”
He scrutinized me. “You better not be.”
I blinked. “I don't know what anybody's talking about,” I said.
Richie drew back. “Sure you do,” he said. He kept on studying me. But I don't think he was looking for weakness this time.
“Put the squids in their place,” he said. “You get that, right?”
I nodded.
“Well,” he said, “what else is there?”
I shrugged. “I'm not sure.”
“Well, you figure it out,” he said. “I'm watching you.”
“I know.”
Richie looked me in the eye, and nodded. Then he turned and walked off.
“Okay,” Elliot said, now that Catalina was here. He'd been waiting to show us. He swung off his bed and hopped to his chair, which was a pretty cool, high-backed execu-chair from his dad's office, borrowed because it had casters and Elliot could roll around on it. He rolled to his desk.
“These came,” he said, poking the keyboard and waiting while the dinosaur screen saver dissipated. “I put them together so we could look at them.”
“At what?”
“Just look.”
The file that swam up on his screen had three messages.
Dear Bully Lab,
Once this kid started making fun of me because I got a 35 on a spelling test. She called me bacteria brain. On the bus she got these other kids to go “Dumb and Dumber, Dumb and Dumber, Dumb and Dumber.” Now she does it all the time.
 
 
Almost every morning this guy, he's in eighth grade, waits for me. Sometimes he has two people hold my arms so he can hit me. He hits me and hits me. Once he tripped me into a mud puddle, and I had mud on my pants all day in school. He makes me so mad I would like to hurt him really, really bad.
 
Hey Guys,
It's not so simple as good guys and bad guys, you know. One time I heard this banging in the hallway and I stuck my head out of the room and I saw this big kid throwing this little kid against a locker. He would grab him and throw him again, smash, like it was a game of catch off the wall. Then I started noticing that these two kids are always doing this. Outside at recess the big kid picks up the little kid, twirls him, and smashes him on the ground. You may think this is just cruel bullying and this is what I thought too, at first. But then I noticed the little kid would always scramble right up and say something teasing, like “You can't hurt me, that one didn't hurt”—and then the big kid would chase him and they would do it again. Other kids pick on this little kid, too. He eggs them on. He calls himself the Bouncer. He loves to get pounded. That's true, too.
“I don't get it,” I said. “These are from three different kids?”
“Yeah,” Elliot said, wiggling on his chair.
“Where'd they come from?”
“They came on KidNet. They were replies to my story. Here's a message that came with one of them …”
He worked his mouse and double-tapped.
“Dear Elliot,” it said, “here is one story I can tell. Please do the same thing with mine.”
“What does he mean, ‘the same thing'?” I said.
“He means, send it out. To everyone. Like we did.”
I looked at Catalina, who was sitting there wide-eyed.
“So these three kids just read your story,” I said, “and they sent you theirs?”
“It's amazing the way you're putting the pieces together,” Elliot said.
“Why can't they put their stories out themselves?”
“We're the ones who know how to do that, remember? Besides, this is what we do. Everybody knows that now.” He nodded, and crossed his arms.
I said to Catalina, “What do you think?”
She was just shaking her head. “I … well. Huh! I guess we should do it. And we should ask people for more.”
“Ask for
more?
Why?” I said. “So more kids can get pounded some more?”
“They sent me their stories 'cause they wanted to,” Elliot said. “Just like I wanted to send out mine.”
I shook my head. “That was crazy, what you wrote. You want to know how much trouble it's already caused? Burke and Blanchette were waiting for me, just a little while ago, so they could tell me they'll kill you if you put out their names.”
“Did they say that?”
“That was the general idea.”
“Did they hit you or anything?”
“Naw. I'm not scared of those guys.”
“Well, neither am I,” Elliot said. “So why shouldn't we help other people broadcast what's happened to them? Maybe they won't be so scared anymore either.”
I don't know—it bothered me. I was trying to think why.
“You know what it's like?” I finally said. “It's like one of those trashy daytime talk shows. I mean, okay, maybe we could make people famous for five minutes because they're victims. Everybody could read their stories and say, Whoa,
their lives are pathetic! And then what? Either these kids get their arms and legs ripped off because they've told on somebody, or a few kids feel sorry for them and everyone else just laughs.”
“Geez,” Elliot said. “What's the matter with you?”
“Nothing's the matter with me. I just don't think it's a good idea. It'll only make things worse.”
“That didn't happen for me,” Catalina said softly.
Elliot said, “No?”
“No. It's funny, but ever since we sent out my story, people have been treating me differently. It's like they see me now. Before I was … invisible. I didn't mean anything to anybody.”
Elliot folded his arms. “Yeah,” he said.
I shrugged.
“It's hard to describe exactly,” Catalina said. “Bethany stays away from me now. I don't know if she's embarrassed or ashamed or maybe just figuring out what to do next, but so far she hasn't done anything. And the regular kids, even some of the cool kids, they say hi to me now. That's a big difference, you know?”
“And I send my story out and get three stories back,” Elliot said. “It's something, Russell. We have to keep doing it.”
“But Catalina's story was different,” I said. “These kids are just telling about everyday school stuff. Kids who do this stuff
like
to get attention for it.”
Elliot sat back and thought. “Okay, how about this?” he said. “We broadcast the messages, but we take off the kids' Net names. No addresses, no authors' names. Then no one knows who they are.”
“What if other kids figure out who they are?”
“Russell, these guys
want
us to put their stories out,” he said. “They
asked
us to.”
“Only one asked.”
“They
all
want that,” he said. “That's why they sent their stories. Geez.” Elliot flopped backward.
But I felt stubborn. “I guarantee you. Putting out stories like this will only make things worse.”
“You don't know that,” Elliot said.
“I bet you.”
“Why don't we find out?” Catalina said.
We both looked at her.
“Well,” she said, “we're supposed to be the Bully Lab, right? We're supposed to be experimenting. Why don't we try this and watch what happens? We could put these stories out, anonymously like you say, and ask for more. If we get any more we can put
those
out, and just watch what happens.”
Elliot said, “Send these stories to the whole seventh grade, right?”
She shrugged. “Why not all three grades?”
“The
Bully Lab Bulletin
,” Elliot mused, sitting up again. “We can send it to every kid in school.”
“It's not a good name,” I said.
“Why not?” said Elliot.
“It's too … young.
Bully Lab
sounds like a little kid thing. It needs to be more powerful.” I have to admit, I was getting a little excited about the idea.
“Hmm,” Elliot said. “Like what?”
“I don't know. How about …
The Justice League?
”
“Name it after a superhero comic? That even sounds nerdy to
me
,” Elliot said, grinning now.
“Okay, okay. How about
The Avengers?
”
“TV show,” he said. “Really old. They made a movie out of it. Really bad.”
“All right, well …”
“
The Revealer
,” Catalina said.
We looked at her again. “Hey!” Elliot said. “Maybe so.”
“Because we're revealing the truth,” she said.
“Yeah?” Elliot swiveled to me. “What do you think?”
“It sounds like something on a supermarket rack.
The Revealer.
ALIEN BABIES WITH MULTIPLE HEADS!”
“It does not,” Elliot said. “Besides, people
read
those things.”
I shrugged. “I guess it's all right with me.”
We decided to use Elliot for the contact point, because he was home. This is what we wrote:
The Darkland Revealer
We are three Parkland seventh graders, Russell Trainor, Elliot Gekewicz, and Catalina Aarons. You can reach us at this address on SchoolStream: Troo
We have been the targets of mean cliques and nasty kids, and maybe you have, too. We have definitely seen how bullying and abuse of kids by kids is incredibly common at this school. In fact we think it is probably out of control. The school doesn't do anything about it, so it happens all the time. If you have been affected by it, you know. If you haven't noticed it, it's time you do.
We're not going to tell people why kids do this, because we don't really know. We're not going to tell you some kids are bad and the kids who get picked on are all good, because maybe it's not always that simple.
We just want to tell you true stories. We want to tell people
your
true stories.
We started with two stories of our own. We sent them out on SchoolStream. We didn't expect other kids to send us theirs. But three kids did.
So here are their stories. If you have been affected by evil behavior, send us your story. We will put it in the next
Revealer.
We won't divulge your name.
We are not sure what will happen from this, but we will be interested to find out. Maybe you will be, too—especially after you read about some of the things that go on.
To send us your story, all you have to do is write it in a SchoolStream message, or include it as a file attachment. Just report what happened to you. Tell us the facts.
 
Sincerely,
The Revealers
We didn't use the word “victim” at all. That was my idea. We added the three kids' stories at the end, with no names or addresses. We pulled down the Distribute menu, and looked at the choices for a minute. Then we chose All.
I thought it was pretty good, what we wrote. I didn't know what was going to happen. But when we got done with the distribution—we just hit the command, and there it went—Elliot spun around, hand up, and I gave him a high five. Then we had to grab him before he fell off his dad's execu-chair.

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