Centaur's Anxiety: Chapter 1

I'm not sure why I accepted his invitation. Maybe because I actually felt intimidated by him? But if he was angry enough to do that, does he have something horrible planned later? We bullied him so much that I can't believe every step I'm taking.

Almost at the address he gave me, a nicer part of town, but still suburbia. It doesn't make me any less nervous, even with all my club friends trailing one block away to back me up. Thoughts of those murderers who hide the bodies in their basements fill my head, hard as I try to push them away.

I come to a full stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Nearly the entire term plays back in my head.

I disliked him before I even met him. The new school year had started and he was able to join on a technicality, the academy required a certain human to monster girl ratio at the beginning of every term to avoid discrimination accusations.

That policy wasn't my or my friends' concern though, we just wanted to know what connections he had; everyone in school had at least one in this tight knit city community.

As it turned out, he had none and we put his place in the hierarchy somewhere between that boy with the Danuki used car saleswoman for a stepmother and the mole problem under the running track.

We ignored him at first, supposedly some students even had amicable conversations with him, but if they had happened, no one is willing to acknowledge they did. Not after the rumours.

Filthy rumours started, and I listened.
He did nothing to prove them wrong, so I believed them.
And so did everyone else.

He became a pariah, bullied mercilessly by the humans and monster girls alike and unaided by the faculty. All of us had power of some kind through connections and we wielded them well in the kingdom we called school.

After the first week and a half of harassing him,  we noticed something. He seemed to take everything in stride, never really changing his expression in any situation.

Jeannie headbutted him in the gut or groin whenever she saw him in the morning on their way to school, Emma tail whipped him as he turned corners between classes, Kelly would raise her body temperature steadily to almost unbearable levels as she sat next to him in math class, nothing really got the reaction we wanted.

The most anyone got out of him was startled eyebrows, never a cry or tears, only sighs or grunts breathed through his nose or muffled by his perpetual frown. It even got to the point that he could predict and dodge some attacks or prepare spare uniforms and other supplies for when he didn't.

It became a bet among all the students: make his face crack, get a real rise out of him and win the pot. Last I heard, all the attempts had made the pot climb to twelve hundred dollars and 10 free car wash coupons.

He became our entertainment.

The club I was part of, the Ranged Combat Club, had very little to do with the bullying really, but when he showed up with a filled application form, his own bow, and a half-full quiver, we made sure to distance ourselves as much as possible from him even though the club had to let him join to avoid looking racist in the club records.

He never did show during regular club times, but we were fully prepared to harass him if he did. For a while, we all thought of him as merely a member on paper as we never saw him after applying.

However, we later started noticing punctures in the targets none of the archers in the club had made and they obviously did not fit bullets and the mages swore they did not practice air lances on them. After some investigation, we realized that there is a half hour gap between the end of school and our club meetings most days. That left only one conclusion.

I volunteered to make him quit, to stay behind one day and confront him about his leeching off OUR resources when we weren't looking. So I did, with everyone in the club wanting to see the event.

They hid all around the grounds, eagerly waiting for the confrontation. Noriko had already placed a bet on the entire club's behalf, (girl was always loose with money), placing even more pressure on me to win. I had never spoken with him before, but I did not want to lose with so much on the line, even though everyone else before had failed.

I was actually nervous but tried not to show it. The day before, almost the entire school had heard me shrieking like a little girl when four moles had dug right underneath my hooves during P.E. and surprised me.

I needed to make people forget that and vent my anger, who better to do it on than the filthiest of men who probably laughs to himself at my embarrassment?

We didn't have to wait long, a half hour isn't a long time frame to steal anything in. I wanted to use the extra couple of feet in height I had on him, my dark skin and hair to make him think I was a demon out of a fairy tale. Sure, the masquerade club had tried to scare him before, but never with size. Imagine my annoyance when he reacted to my surprise presence with merely a small sigh and turning away to escape.

I called him out, nicknamed him "Shortstuff" after his height and dinky short bow, demanding him to answer for his crime by quitting the club. With a hint of frustration in his voice, he turned back and stood his ground, raising his head to look me straight in the eyes stating that he did not join to be denied access to the grounds.

I got closer and tried to make our difference in size a bigger deal, threatening him with a hoof to the chest if he didn't quit 'willingly.' Perhaps backing down would have been the better choice when he reacted with silence and crossing his arms across his chest, but everyone was watching and none of us expected what happened later. But if I'd chosen that, at least I wouldn't be on the streets.

I called him a parasite and a lousy archer, poking a finger in his chest that made him backpedal a step from my strength. "We'll settle this with bows, Shortstuff! You obviously can't fight me so I'll give you one small chance."

He simply sighed, “If that's how you want it,” and we set rules. Ten arrows, the highest total wins. This contest would be my last chance to get him to quit, if I tried anything else afterwards, win or lose, it would have just been embarrassing.

Every shot I took, he watched intently, closely enough that I accused him several times of being the pervert the rumours claimed him to be. He merely stayed silent, watching my shots fly.

Every shot he took, his body visibly relaxed... Then tensed right back up as I taunted him any way I could, finding or making up faults in his stance or performance.

He was getting more and more annoyed over time, his body language said as much. I was starting to feel giddy around my sixth shot, realizing I could get him to quit, save face with my peers, and be the person to finally win the school wide bet.

“Hey, Shortstuff! When you lose, leave your stuff behind! I want a trophy to remember your lousiness!” Something I'd hollered with glee as I prepared to take my ninth shot. I really did want a trophy, a broken arrow preferably to remember him cracking under pressure, imagined it hanging by splinters on one of the coathooks in my room.

The sound of heavy footsteps didn't break me out of my self-congratulations, but the punch to my stomach did and suddenly a hand had grabbed the collar of my jacket and an arrowhead was pointed right at my face. A roar filled my ears before I could recover.

“WHAT the FUCK is your problem?!” The hand not dragging my face torso down retracted, “WHAT the FUCK is everyone's problem?!” Then it came forward again like a nanny scolding a child, his arrow a disappointed index finger, “All I wanted from the start was to be left alone, but then I thought, HEY, there's an archery range, I can totally stand being SHREDDED day IN and OUT with a little peaceful hobby time, even after I expected to be called CANCER by all of you!”

He let go of me and started pacing back and forth with a manic step, he just kept talking and talking, ranting and raving about the student body and the bullying, whipping his hands around to emphasize every point.

I couldn't bring myself to interrupt him at all and none of the other club members could either. Everyone told me afterwards that we were all in the same state, starring with our eyes wide-open in shock as the school's favourite stone-faced target stirred a pot with his arrow while screaming, “simmering with RAGE,” throwing his arms up higher and higher with every again, “Again, AND AGAIN everyone throws SHIT at me,” making his face turn red and his knuckles white. I never heard so much profanity in one place and began really fearing for my life as he kept going while still holding onto an arrow. The real shock was how he finished though.

He stomped right up to me, waving that arrow at my paralysed face again like a wand as he shouted, “sometimes when I come in, I replace the targets that are damaged SO badly for YOUR benefit, 'cause I still feel a duty to this FUCKING club. Guess I shoulda made a FUSS about it like you are now about my THIEVERY, eh? EH?! But noooo, this is an unfair trade 'cause I guess like everyone else, you notice the BAD shit first and the GOOD shit never!" He took a deep breath while I held mine.

"And if I keep going at this point, I dunno WHAT I'LL DO, so we'll settle this over dinner tonight at seven pm! We can both calm down and maybe we can sort this out without YOU crushing my head like a melon or ME slitting your belly open end to end with this arrowhead!”

It didn't take long for his words to sink in, but I still couldn't find it in myself to react with anything other than a soft “what?” and a complete mess of a brain as he stomped off. The rest of the club was thinking the same thing because they didn't come out immediately, which turned out to be good I think, because he came back after a few seconds with a torn off piece of lined paper, a pen, and an embarrassed expression before writing out an address and his cell phone number.

He stammered out some words about how a designated place would actually help and to call if I couldn't make it. Then he ran out without retrieving his arrows left in the range.

And now I'm here, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, wondering if I should go through with this.