by Leigh Flayton

My fourth grade classmate Davy was something out of the 19th century. I remember him as a boy 1）dandy who once wore an 2）ascot and had a face so pale Im surprised he didnt die young from 3）tuberculosis. He had a concave chest， ruddy cheeks and a runny nose， and his voice， deep yet nasal and sing-songy， made me think of poetry when， tomboy that I was， Id rather be playing 4）kickball.

Maybe thats why I bullied him.

That sunny afternoon when we were 9 years old， Davy and I were 5）milling around with some other kids during 6）recess， doing nothing much on a concrete stoop near the playground. I dont know why or whose idea it was， but we told Davy to lie down on the ground， and we took turns walking on him. I knew Davy better than some of the other kids—wed performed a magic show together on Meet the Teacher night—and I remember taking a few steps and then becoming angry with him. Why wasnt he fighting us？ We soon let him go and that was the end of that. Davy never said much of anything to me again.

Then， a few weeks later， I realized I was actually angry with myself. I was ashamed， also scared that people would find out. How could I have done such a thing？ What kind of awful， evil person was I？ And what would my parents think if they knew—or my teachers or the principal？ And how would they punish me？ The entire incident only took a few minutes but I found myself thinking about it for what became my very own eternity.

At school I studied the other kids who walked on him with me， but they all seemed fine. Even Davy was the same， except a little quieter. And he never looked me in the eye.

I was walking down the hall one day when I saw some kids trying to knock the books out of Davys hands and Davy was snarling back at them with that quavering， oddly 7）melodious voice. I stepped in front of him and told the kids to leave him alone. They did， but Davy didnt thank me. He just righted his books and went on his way. As I watched his hunched little body 8）skulk its way down the hall， I remember promising myself that， no matter how hard it might be， I would always do my best to stick up for 9）underdogs.

A short time later， our teacher announced that Davy was moving， and I wondered if it was because of me. I hated the thought as much as I hoped this would make everything finally go away. I decided to make up for my behavior； I would say goodbye to Davy and hopefully wed part as friends. If I could muster enough courage I might even apologize for what Id done.

I went to his house and knocked on the door， terrified. His mother answered. Davy wasnt home. I thought the whole neighborhood could hear my sigh of relief. I asked her to tell Davy that I wished him luck in his new town. She thanked me for being “such a good friend，” and I just stood there unable， or unwilling， to move. Davys mother waited for me to say something else， but I couldnt. She slowly closed the door.

I ran all the way home， thinking she couldnt have meant what she said， could she？ What did she know？ Did Davy tell her what I did？ My heart 10）throbbed in my chest. I was sorry I didnt get the chance to say goodbye， but I was relieved that I didnt have to face Davy. I ran into my house， went straight to my room and thought that maybe now I could get on with my life.

But then I thought of Davy. What would he think when his mother told him I had stopped by？ What if she told him that she thanked me for being his friend？ I felt sick and wondered if the feeling would ever go away. And then I wondered how Davy would go on with his life， knowing he had laid himself down on a concrete stoop all those years ago， on that sunny afternoon when I was a bully.

我四年級時的同班同學戴維簡直就像那些19世紀的古人。我記得他那時系著寬領(lǐng)帶，一副花花公子般的模樣，臉色蒼白，我都驚訝他怎么沒因肺結(jié)核而夭折早逝。他胸部凹陷，兩頰紅潤，鼻子流涕，嗓音低沉卻帶著鼻音，像哼著歌兒似的，那讓我想起了詩歌，而那時的我“假小子”一個，寧可踢足球去也不舞文弄墨。

可能這就是我欺負他的原因。

那年我們九歲。在那個明媚的下午，我和戴維，還有其他幾個小孩在課間到處轉(zhuǎn)悠，在操場旁的水泥梯級上沒什么可做。我不知道原因，也不清楚是誰的主意，但我們叫戴維躺到地面上，然后我們一個個輪流踩在他身上。我比其他孩子更了解戴維——我們曾一起在“老師見面之夜”表演過魔術(shù)，我記得自己踩了幾腳，然后對他生起氣來。為什么他不跟我們打起來？我們很快就放他走了，事情就這么完了。戴維自此再沒跟我多說話。

然后，過了幾周，我意識到其實我是在發(fā)自己脾氣。我感到慚愧，而且害怕別人發(fā)現(xiàn)。我怎么會做出這種事來？我是個多可怕、多丑惡的人??？要是我的父母——或者我的老師、我的校長知道了我的所作所為，他們會怎么想？他們會怎么懲罰我？整件事只發(fā)生了幾分鐘，但我覺得自己一輩子都會在想這件事。

在學校，我觀察了一下其他和我一起踩過戴維的孩子，但他們看起來都毫無異樣。甚至是戴維也一樣，只是比以前更安靜了。而他從不正眼看我。

有一天，我沿著禮堂走，看到一些小孩試圖將戴維手上的書打翻，戴維則用他那顫抖的帶著奇怪韻律的聲音對著他們怒吼。我走到他前面，叫那些小孩別惹他。他們走開了，但戴維卻沒有謝我。他只是收拾好他的書，繼續(xù)走他的路。當我看著他那弓著背的小身子灰溜溜地沿著禮堂走，我記得自己許下承諾，無論會遇到多大的困難，我永遠都會盡我所能為弱者抗爭。

沒過多久，我們的老師宣布說，戴維要轉(zhuǎn)學了，我疑惑那是不是因為我的緣故。我討厭這種想法，但同時也希望他的離開會讓所有的事情煙消云散。我決定為自己的行為作出補償，我想跟戴維道別，希望我倆能以朋友的身份道別。如果我能積攢足夠勇氣的話，或許我還能為自己的過錯道歉。

我走到他家，敲了門，心情恐懼。他媽媽出來應門了。戴維并不在家。我想所有鄰居都聽得到我釋懷的嘆息。我請她跟戴維說，我祝福他在新的鎮(zhèn)上交上好運。她向我道謝，說我是“這么好的一個朋友”，而我只是站在那兒，不能，或者說不愿意，離開。戴維的媽媽等著我說些其他什么的，但我說不出口。她慢慢地把門關(guān)上了。

我一路狂奔回家，想著她說的一定不是真心話，會是真心的嗎？她知道些什么呢？戴維跟她說了我的所為嗎？我的心在胸口抽搐。沒有機會說再見，我很遺憾，但同時我也很是釋然，因為我不用面對戴維。我跑進屋子，徑直走到我的房間，想著或許現(xiàn)在我就可以繼續(xù)自己的生活了。

但接著我想起了戴維。當他媽媽跟他說起我曾造訪的時候，他會想到什么呢？如果他媽媽跟他說，她謝了我，因為我是他的朋友，他又會怎么想呢？我感到惡心，并且疑惑這種感覺是否會消失。然后，我想知道戴維將如何繼續(xù)自己的生活？當他明白到多年前，在那個明媚的下午，他自己曾躺在水泥臺階上，而我是一個欺負他的人。