Fear is what I live with, fear that sometimes hibernates and sometimes claws me like a grizzly. I skim through the chapters, bypassing sexuality, dating, peer pressure, intercourse, and eating habits. But the section on parents pulls me in like it’s quicksand. Parents who drink or do drugs, parents who don’t parent but foist the job on their kids, parents who abuse their kids sexually or physically. Mouth dry, I read on.

Actual teenagers tell their stories, guys and girls. This makes it worse. But the advice is what caps it. Leave home. Don’t wait until the damage is permanent. Get help. Talk to a relative. Tell someone in a position of authority.

I can see me trotting into the RCMP detachment and fingering Floyd, Head Salesman at the GM dealership on Main Street and Treasurer of the Chamber of Commerce. Just the thought of it makes me sweat in places you don’t want to know about. Although now I have another name for it. Anxiety.

I shove the book back under my socks. Because my brain’s jittering, I can’t settle to sleep, so eventually I pull out the other book, the one about bullying in schools. In case you’re wondering, we’ve had sessions in assembly on bullying. Several, I guess. I’m guessing because I’m a straight-A student in the most valuable lesson school can teach you, which is how to tune out.

I read the blurb and the author’s credentials. This book isn’t on my junior-high reading list with a 250-word report due by Monday, five points deducted for lateness. I could drop it in the Return slot tomorrow and who’d know?

The first chapter defines bullying. Bullying involves the abuse of power, verbally or physically, by one person or a group. It can be low-key or severe, one-time or repetitive.

I don’t do groups, and verbal’s a waste of time.

Other words jump from the page. Intentional. Unjustified. Phrases and sentences snag my eyes. The bully hurts/humiliates/dominates the victim, often with enjoyment. The victim is usually smaller or in some way helpless. Typically, the bully denies what he’s doing, both to others and to himself.

No wonder I used to tune out in assembly.

I skip ahead, riffling through the pages. The bully is often socially isolated, doesn’t feel shame, and lacks empathy. Does the guy who wrote this book know me?

The truth creeps through my veins cold as a winter snake.

I’m a bully.

Me, Brick MacAvoy. A full-fledged, genuine, go-for-broke bully. I don’t just bug kids, or hassle them, or pick on them. I bully them.

Their faces parade through my brain: Lorne Meisner, Gary Sanger, Lucas Donovan, Samson Donovan, Billy Gottrich, Glenn Semple. Kicks, punches, wedgies, wrist burns, threats piled on threats. Wary faces. Terrified faces, tight with pain. Kids whimpering, sobbing, even, on occasion, screaming. Although not, of course, Glenn.