Flash Fiction: The Story of The Kind Bully

Ananda Refina Maulida
180410160076

My name is Anna, I’m twelve years old, and I’m the tallest girl in my class. My Nena—grandma—said that I was pretty smart too. I was too smart, and the teacher became too stupid to let me get the first rank in class. I only got the second place every semester and that girl named Sarah always got the first place. People called Sarah a kind, smart, pretty girl—even though she was short, and everyone seemed to like her. Her papa was the one who sold bakso in front of our school. On the other hand, I was the granddaughter of the one who owned the school—not literally—I mean My Nena was our headmistress. If you ever watched a telenovela about the rich and the poor, well I could say that I was the rich, and Sarah was the poor.

I wasn’t saying that I was the bad one, but being the granddaughter of a headmistress made people thought making trouble on me would make them end up in another trouble. I kind of enjoyed it, and it was not my choice, it was just people who put it on the first place. Until one day, I heard people talked behind me.

“She is not that smart. She only got the second place because of her grandma, nothing’s ‘special’”.

“Sarah is definitely ‘the best’!”.

I didn’t really care at first, but what if they were true? I was sure enough I was too smart among kids my age. Maybe it was me who supposed to be on the first place instead of Sarah, but people would think that I didn’t do it myself, weren’t that what they were talking about?

So, I was planning to tell Sarah the truth. I’d tell her I felt terribly sorry for her that what she got these years were made-up. Then I heard, Sarah got a pink ribbon for her became the smartest one in school.

I was too angry because she got that pink ribbon—since pink is my favorite color—so I pushed her in the bathroom, then she slipped, her head hit the floor, and it made her eyelids bleed. Few people saw it, thankfully—or ironically—no one reported it as my doing, and I felt guilty.

It was a relieve because a week later she came back to school and she seemed fine. However, she still had the bruises in her face. Everyone was too afraid to be near her because they were afraid of “being infected by the disease” she had.

“Did you see her face? Is that an infection?”

“Just stay away from her, you guys!”

How could people be that stupid, it was just bruises. Then I realized they were never truly sincere when they were friends with me, and they were also not sincere when they better up Sarah’s intelligence. In addition, they were too stupid to distinguish which one is disease and which one is bruises.

“Hey Sarah! As the genius duo in this place, let’s just collaborate! You won’t regret it.” I asked Sarah when she was left alone. You could also consider it as my style of apology. In the end, I became the only one who was smart enough to be friend with Sarah.

Word count: 548

Illustration by: Aghnea Putri S.

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