People might say I was mean in my handling of a classroom bully. It probably was mean. All these years later, I still do not have one ounce of guilt. Julie Benz was a bully, and she reminded me of Brutus. Julia taunted me daily. She would throw spitballs at me while we were in class and hit me with her fist when we were in recess. This girl would throw rocks at me while I walked home from school. As a result, I had bruises all over my body. I sometimes wonder if there was more to it than just her taunting me. It would be great if I could go back in time and find out.

On her way home, she would walk up the dirt road about fifty yards from my house. Being the mischievous boy that I was, I started searching for a way to make Julia pay for all that she had done to me. I thought of everything from placing thumbtacks on her seat at school to trashing her lunch box. None of that seemed nasty enough.

I had this BB-gun that I used to hunt rabbits in the woods. We had little and got food by whatever means we could. The lady who took care of me taught me many things about finding what you need in the woods. From picking mint and Polk Salad by the creek to getting leaves and bark from the sassafras tree to cure whatever ails you.

One day while cleaning my BB-gun a light went off in my head, and I knew exactly how I would exact my vengeance on Julia. I took about a week to think about how to get away with what I was going to do. Some say I had a devious mind as a little boy. I am not sure about that, but I got an education that I would never have gotten in any school. When Mr. Jimmy was caring for me, he had more on his mind than watching me. He exposed me to pool halls, juke joints, and brothels. I gained a fondness for the street characters that big society and the pretty people look down on.

The day came when Julia Benz was going to get her just due. I got out of school early by playing sick. I went home, grabbed my BB-gun, hid behind the doghouse, and waited. When I saw her walking up the road, I cocked the gun and waited for her to come further up the road. When she was about 40 yards away, I laid down and crawled to the edge of the doghouse until I could barely see her. I got her butt in the gunsight and took the shot. At first, I thought I had missed, but her mouth became wide open. Her wide-open mouth looked strange because there was no sound at first. In a couple of seconds, I heard her cry out and grab her butt. She went up the dirt road towards her home as best as she could. I could not stop laughing. The dog looked at me like I was nuts.

I knew that the police would come around, and I wrapped the BB-gun in a sheet and hid it in the woods. In a few hours, the police showed up at my house, wanting to look around. I was the only one at home and let them in. When they could not find the BB-Gun, they began questioning me. I did not admit to anything. I told them I did not know what they were talking about. I had learned from various characters to never admit to anything and to keep your business to yourself.

I never told a soul about what I had done. I kept it myself well into adulthood. A few days after I shot her in the butt, we were in the schoolhouse where I walked up to her and whispered that if she ever bothered me again, she would get a BB in her other butt cheek. She never said a word to me after that. That BB did its job.

I moved away when I was ten years old, but I went back forty years later to visit family and childhood friends. Nothing had changed. It was like time had stood still there. Most people I knew as a little boy had moved on, but I found out that Julia was still living in the house where she grew up. I walked up the street where she lived. She was sitting on the swing on the front porch. I stopped and studied her face. I knew who she was right off. I am not sure if she remembered me. I patted my behind on the same cheek I shot her in, smiled, and walked away.