Seigmund fred - Rumble Spoke in Class

>I remember this one kid in my second period class of my junior-year
>A freshman named Rumble.
>What can I say about the kid that hasn’t already been said?
>Quiet
>Always kept to himself
>seemed sad all the time
>weird
>Not everybody knew about him, but those that did either didn’t care, or picked on him
>The kid’s speech made it real easy to do
>He damn near mumbled everything that came out of his mouth
>that’s how he got his nickname
>mumble
>Some would just call him that when he came up in a conversation
>Others would just call him it to his face
> Whenever they did, he did what he always would
>Stared down at the floor, and said nothing
>So nobody would stop
>Hell, clearly I remember picking on the boy
>I liked to ask him those patronizing questions that no matter how he answered he would end up making an ass of himself
>As far as I was concerned, what could such a harmless little fuck like him do anyway?

>He had a crush on girl in the class.
>Another freshman
>I think her name was Silver Spoon, or something…
>She was one of the kids that had let their middle-school popularity get to their head
>She was even friends with some snooty little brat
>Every so often, when I’d look over to the kid, he’d be eyeballing her for a few seconds before looking back to the notebook he always kept with him.
>He carried that thing everywhere, as if he’d die if he put it down or lost it.
>One day, I decided to wait until he dozed off in class and snatched the notebook without him waking up.
>The moment I opened it up, I realized I’d taken his sketchbook.
>The thing nearly half full of drawings
>things like zombies, monsters, and swords stuff like that
>I had to admit, the kid was pretty talented.
>near the end, I saw something that almost made me burst out laughing, and at the same time made me a little uncomfortable
>It was a picture of Silver Spoon
>but wasn’t just a picture of her face, or her in a stance
> It was a picture of her lying in a “draw me like one of your French girls” pose
>And yes, she was buck-ass naked with a sort of “come hither” look on her face
>I snapped the notebook shut, face red as a tomato.
>As I relaxed, I thought that the picture could be used as more ammunition against him when I “harmlessly” poked fun at him later.
>I decided to look at the rest of the notebook while I still had it
>after looking at few more of the same stuff he had drawn in the rest of the book, I came to the last one
>It was a guy in bulky armor, holding a flaming sword in one hand, and holding up a severed head in the other
>At first, I thought it was pretty badass looking.
>But then, I noticed something
>the guy in the picture kind of looked like Rumble.
>Same hairstyle, hair-color, skin tone, everything.
>The part that really got me was his face
>His mouth was twisted into a wicked grin.
>I quickly put it back on his desk,

>later, at PE, I caught up with rumble as we were doing laps
>Rumble had readied himself for the insults about his inability to play any kind of sport.
>I really surprised him when I hinted that I knew about the nudes he drew
>Imagine the look on his face
>And imagine the look on mine when he hit me with a surprise left-hook to the jaw
>I wasn’t angry
>More like surprised, shocked
>I honestly didn’t think the kid had it in him.
>We were quickly spotted, and were escorted to the office by coach biceps

>I swear, I thought rumble was some kind of idiot.
>It was as if the moment after he hit me he slid back into silent mode.
>when questioned, I made up some half-assed lie about how I’d accidentally bumped into him and he just snapped
>And Rumble did nothing to challenge it
>I was sent back to class after that
>a class later, I went to take a leak, went I hear some guy balling someone out
>I turned the corner and saw Rumble standing in the middle of the hallway
>Yelling at him was a guy I thought was his dad, but would later find out was his brother
>He was complaining about having to leave work to come pick him up from school
>he said something along these lines
>”Well? Is there any fucking reason you had to pull some stupid shit like that and forcing me drag my ass over here to bring your scrawny ass home…. HUH?!”
>Rumble did what he always would
>Look at the ground, and said nothing
>His brother just scoffed, thumping the kid across the head, calling him a worthless little shit.
>Rumble had gotten three days of out of school suspension

After thinking about what had happened, I decided to talk to him, say I was sorry, give the kid a pick me up, anything I could offer.
>God knows what that kid had to go through at home
>I was disappointed to see that he was absent, but I’d figured I could just talk to him the next day.
>I never got that chance though...
>In the middle of class, I heard the door open
>Everyone looked up and saw Rumble, wearing his usual expression of perpetual grief.
>No one said anything as he walked to the front of the classroom.
>And for the first time, his eyes left the floor to look at all of us
>And for the first time, Rumble smiled
>And for the first time, he spoke without mumbling, clear as crystal
>”Try to erase this…”
>He went for his pocket
>And in that instant, I knew exactly what was about to happen…
>I held my arm over my eyes, shielding them from what was about to come
>There was a quick, deafening sound
>I felt a splash of warm liquid on the lower half of my face
>A dull thud was heard…
>…and then silence.
>Slowly, I moved my arm away from my face.
>everyone around me was staring wide-eye and speechless at the front of the classroom…
>…at what remained of the boy
>Rumble had painted his final masterpiece on the blackboard
>And though it would soon be erased forever
>no one in that classroom would ever forget it
>And no one would forget the day…
>…The day that Rumble spoke in class