The Break-up Prank: Part Eleven

When Bandy leaned over to him in their fifth period class, Ian pretended to be caught up in Mrs. Tinney’s lecture, though he could give two shits as to why Hester Prynne had to wear a stupid red letter. Finally, after the third, and overly emphatic, “PSST”, Ian glanced over. “What?”

“Have you seen Tony?” Bandy asked, looking worried.

“No,” Ian said with a small shrug of his shoulders. Bandy was so weird. He was a big kid, but not very athletic – or muscular for that matter – but he seemed to really look up to Tony. Ian sensed that Bandy wanted nothing more to be one of the guys but lacked both the ability and the personality. He was quiet, almost like a shadow, and he never seemed to have anything interesting to say. Usually he just repeated the last few words of whatever Tony had just said. No wonder everyone calls him Blandy, Ian mused.

“Oh. Okay,” Bandy said. “He said he was going to break up with Leann at lunch and I wondered if he really did.”

“Ya got me,” Ian said indifferently, turning his attentions back to Mrs. Tinney.

Bandy looked down at his notebook as his mind drifted off, thinking about Tamara. He knew everyone was surprised that he managed to land a girlfriend, even if she wasn’t exactly the hottest thing on two legs. But they seemed to fit together well – if you didn’t take their size disparity into account. Bandy wasn’t bad-looking, but he was a far cry from the kind of guy that would catch a girl’s eye like Tony or Trent or even Ian. He hated to admit to himself that Ian was in the same league as Tony and Trent because the guy made him feel so awkward whenever he was around. He was never outright mean to Bandy, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made it seem like he was just so much better than everyone. By contrast, Bandy considered almost everyone to be better than he was, to the point he came off as shy and mostly forgettable, like a damn wallflower. It was no wonder people referred to him as ‘Blandy’ behind his back. And yet, Tony was always cool to him and made him feel like he was worth something. In fact, Tony was the one who’d encouraged him to go after Tamara. So when Tony had casually let him in on the prank, Bandy felt compelled to join in, but only on the condition that Tony followed through.

He hated to think of breaking up with Tamara. She seemed to understand his natural, white-bread tendencies because she was of the same ilk. With her dirty blonde hair always hanging in her delicate face and those big round glasses she wore obscuring her soft brown eyes, it was almost as if she didn’t want people to notice her. But Bandy had noticed her and he’d seen past her hair and glasses and recognized that she was actually very cute. He was especially drawn to her full lower lip and, perhaps strangely, her tiny hands. As they’d begun to spend more time together she’d let it slip that she was very self-conscious about her hands and that she knew people called her ‘Baby Hands’. He remembered taking them in his own large mitts, amazed at their softness, and telling her anyone who called her that was an idiot. She must’ve seen the sincerity in his eyes because she’d leaned over and kissed on the spot. If he thought her hands were soft, it was nothing compared to her lips.

It wasn’t all physical for Bandy, though. Tamara had a kooky sense of humor and he was one of the few people she was comfortable with in indulging it. He thought she was quite hilarious. And there was the added bonus that she actually like his name. He’d always been rather embarrassed to be named Bandy. It was such an old-fashioned, archaic name. But when he heard the sound of it coming out of Tamara’s mouth, it sounded almost regal – like he was Sir Bandy to her.

Bandy sighed, and pondered his dilemma. He really liked Tamara and doubted he’d ever find someone else like her but he also had this unexplainable need to be one of the guys. Bandy glanced around the room hoping to spot Tony, that he’d somehow slipped in late. It was a ridiculous thought, he knew, as Tony could never just ‘slip in’ anywhere. However, in the next row and a desk behind his, Gina was doodling absently in her notebook. Gina, Bandy recalled, was a friend of Leann. Maybe she would know what happened.

“Gina. Hey Gina,” he whispered, leaning back as far as he could in his chair. She looked up and her nose wrinkled briefly. Bandy ignored her disgust and plowed ahead. “You’re friends with Leann so maybe you know. Have you seen Tony?” An imperious smile crept into her eyes and Bandy fought not to look away. To him it seemed ugly and repugnant.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing him for a while,” Gina leered.

“What do you mean?” Bandy asked, growing alarmed.

“Oh, let’s just say he tried to break up with Leann but the only thing that broke was Tony.”

The way Gina’s eyes seemed to bore into him made Bandy turn away despite his desire to know what had happened. But that awful, haughty look in her eye overpowered his need to know. He did know one thing, though. Tony had done the deed. His heart sank as realized he would have to as well and he spent the rest of fifth period psyching himself up.

When the bell rang, Bandy rushed out and made a beeline toward Tamara’s fifth period classroom. He spotted her coming toward him, her eyes glued to the floor. “Tamara,” he said, putting a hand on her upper arm.

“Hi Bandy,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Bandy asked, steering Tamara’s small fram toward the open doors of the empty gymnasium.

“What’s going on, Bandy?” Tamara asked, completely confused.

Once they were out of the crowded hall, Bandy looked down at Tamara and tried to speak, but to his surprise, his voice failed him. Say something idiot, Bandy chided himself, she’s waiting. And she was, staring at him with wide, innocent eyes. You can’t do it, can you, pussy, his inner voice taunted. Bandy’s face reddened a shade in response. Fine.

“Bandy?” Tamara asked hesitantly as she watched her boyfriend struggle to find the words he was trying to say.

He looked at her and then blurted, “We need to break up.”

Tamara stared at him blankly. “What?” Her voice sounded a million miles away.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Bandy reiterated, sounding regretful this time.

“Why?” Tamara’s voice was still small and far away.

Bandy cursed himself for not having a reason ready since he obviously couldn’t tell her about the prank and that he was just trying to be one of the guys. “I just am,” he said defensively.

“I..I don’t understand.”

It was heartwrenching to see the confusion in Tamara’s soft eyes as they looked up at him through those large, round lenses. He reached out to pat her hand, to offer a small gesture of comfort, but she yanked it back sharply making Bandy feel stupid. Tears started welling up in Tamara’s eyes and the sight of them made Bandy feel horribly guilty. She looked so fragile to him and he hated himself for hurting her.

Tamara sat down hard on the metal bleachers and buried her face in her hands. Bandy put his hands in his pockets and studied the floor as she cried. Time seemed to drag and though it was only a minute or so, it was the most uncomfortable minute of Bandy’s life. He didn’t know what to do. Should he leave her there? Should he try to comfort her?

With an unlady like sniffle, Tamara pulled off her glasses and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Carefully she replaced her glasses and stood, looking at Bandy with an eerie calm. In just a few seconds she’d gone from being hurt, to feeling sorry for herself, to being angry before finally settling on feeling indignant. She looked up at Bandy and saw the guilt and apprehension in his eyes. In that moment she understood that he really didn’t want to break up with her and that some other force was driving him to do what he’d done. But that knowledge just didn’t seem to matter to her and it clearly had no effect on her response.

Tamara leaned up like she was about to speak and Bandy leaned down, lowering his head to listen. As his face neared hers, Tamara flung back her arm and then slapped Bandy across the face causing his head to snap to the side. The crispness of her palm connecting with the flesh of his cheek echoed loudly throughout the empty gym like a gunshot. Bandy grabbed his cheek and met Tamara’s gaze with shocked and wounded eyes. It felt amazing to slap him and suddenly Tamara experienced a strange sensation, unlike anything she’d ever felt. Tony, Trent, Jack and the other guys would’ve recognized it immediately since football was such a savage game, but Tamara had never experienced bloodlust before. Her adrenaline was pumping and her heart was racing, and yet, time seemed to be standing still. She felt like she wanted more – craved more – but had no idea what that meant.

“I’m so sorry,” Bandy stammered, holding his cheek.

“Save it,” Tamara said, sternly but devoid of anger. Her voice was confident and sure of itself in her own ears and Tamara enjoyed the way it sounded. And just like that, a new Tamara emerged, like a butterfly from a cocoon, except this butterfly packed a punch.

With her small fingers curled tightly into a fist, Tamara decided she would get more. As Bandy stood holding his reddened cheek stupidly, Tamara pulled back her right arm and drove it forward directly into the inverted vee where his legs came together. She felt the give of soft tissue as her tiny fist drilled into its target with pinpoint accuracy. Bandy let out a grunt as his body caved in on itself. Tamara watched as his hand dropped from his cheek straight to his groin. His other hand gripped his knee as he doubled over, all the while articulating his pain with pitiful moans.

Behind her watching eyes, Tamara’s head was spinning. Where had that come from? She’d never even considered doing anything like that. It was like instinct just took over and she knew exactly where to strike. Had it been in her all along? As much as it surprised her, it delighted her, too. Slapping Bandy felt good, but this? To see Bandy clutching himself, barely able to breathe, an expression of pure pain searing his face, made Tamara feel absolutely divine. It was like a drug and suddenly she wanted – needed – to punch his balls again. But first, she needed to clear his hands.

The solution was simple. Tamara reared back and cracked his jaw with her small fist. Stinging pain ran up her arm as she did, but it didn’t bother her. In fact, she felt even more alive. Bandy yelped and grabbed his smarting jaw, trying to straighten and defend himself. Tamara was about to follow up her right cross with a lower jab but her freshly unveiled instincts asserted themselves. As if she’d been doing it all her life, Tamara, in one fluid motion, gripped Bandy’s shoulders and drove her knee into his balls with a natural grace, crushing them beautifully. When he sank to his knees, Tamara’s heart leapt. When he pitched onto his side, holding his face and his groin, it nearly exploded from her chest.

As she watched the agony twist and contort his face, Tamara laughed, thinking how surprised people would’ve been to see what happened. The truth was, no one could’ve been more surprised about what she’d done than Tamara herself. But god, was it a great surprise. The elation she was experiencing felt like a warm hug from a proud big sister. It seemed to say, Good job girl. You hit him right where it hurts most just like you should. Tamara was practically dancing inside as she looked down on Bandy’s quivering body. I did that! She thought happily. His balls hurt because of me!

After drinking in Bandy’s misery for longer than she should have, Tamara’s senses finally began to normalize. The gymnasium came back into focus as did the clock on the wall. She was late for class. Oh well, she thought, as she glided out of the gym, leaving Bandy alone with his pain, being tardy was a small price to pay for something so exhilarating as sending a boy to the floor, clutching his painfully wounded balls.

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