"Hey duck ching-chong!" he yelled at me. He put his fingers to his eyes and pulled them into slants.

"Bonzai!" he hollered.

I stood there, motionless. He was sitting in my desk. The bell was about to ring and I didn't want to get in trouble by not being in my seat.

"Bonzaaaai!" he howled again. I heard chuckles behind me. I turned around and saw some of the other students pointing at me. Some put their fingers to their eyes to slant them too.

I saw my Home Education teacher standing there. As soon as she saw me look at her, she turned away and went to her desk.

"Bonzaaai!" I turned back to my desk. Other students were trickling in now. All of them were staring at me, probably because my face was all red.

"Get out of my seat," I whimpered, barely audible.

"Ah, waw yew say, duck ching-chong?"

I felt my eyes burning. "That's my seat."

"Ah so, ah so, duck ching-chong!" he cackled. Someone was roaring with laughter behind me.

I heard the bell ring. It was time for class to start. I felt the heat blazing in my body, filling ever pore. The teacher was still sitting at her desk, mindlessly shuffling papers.

My jaw was clenched. "Get out of my seat," I repeated.

He let out a garble of gibberish. This punch line left the audience in glorious laughter. I looked around at the class and people were either gawking at me or looking straight down at their desks.

"Bonzaaai!"

Something snapped. Before I knew what I was doing, my clenched fist flew into his face. And POPPED him in the eye.

I heard a collective gasp behind me. He got up and pushed me down to the ground.

"You're dead after school, duck ching-chong."

I scrambled to my desk and took my seat. The bully sauntered over to his desk. The teacher promptly got up and began her lecture as if nothing had just happened in her class.

"Oh man, you're so dead," another student snickered at me.

I was shivering. My body was still smoldering. I tried to listen to the teacher but couldn't think about anything except the terrible gnawing fear festering inside me.

I kept my eyes on my desk, afraid to make eye contact with anyone else in the class. My pen could barely stay in my hand because I was shaking so much.

The class went by both in a blinding flash and in a creeping crawl. My mind played all kinds of worst-case scenarios. When class was over, it was a feat to stand up because my body was so numb and tired from it's trembling.

I packed up my books as quickly as I could and tried to run out of the classroom. But the bully caught up with me before I could exit.

"Hey," he started. I gulped and looked up at him. He had a black eye. "Look, I had no idea you'd take it so hard. I'm sorry man."

Then he turned and walked out of the room.

I stood there, motionless. The rest of the class exited. I grabbed my knapsack and walked out the door.

Though I was still nervous, I found myself holding my head slightly higher than I usually did.

. . .

Did you ever fight back against a bully?