Indifferent - A Short Story

By Dena Elerian

Since Bianca died, life changed for me. It was like a tsunami had wiped out an entire town and I was the sole survivor left to rebuild and start over again. Therapy has been helping a little but it’s only part of my rebuilding.

The one thing to ensure that my friend Bianca’s death was not in vain is to make sure that no one in my community ever would be pushed to do what she did. I never wanted to face a tsunami again.

“Nothing’s going to change!” an old friend of mine, Travis, scoffs at me as I try to hand him a flyer.

“How do you know unless you try?” I ask him. I had never asked him this before.

“Whatever.”

I knew there was no getting through to that pigheaded idiot as he storms away with his friends and away from me. I kept my mouth shut and on. I would try again another day. I had to continue to remember that he wasn’t the Travis I knew so long ago.

I continue to walk through the halls of Miriam Lakes High School. I see seemingly endless lines of lockers & shined laminate flooring. I could hear the slams of metal locker doors and endless chatter of my classmates. The hallways were the only place that had not undergone remodeling. They had stayed the same since 1999. It wasn’t that the educational board of the city of McCullom Lake couldn’t afford the remodeling, they just choose not to remodel.

I stop periodically to approach people & hand them a flyer.

“Come join our club today and make a difference,” I would say. Sometimes I’d come off as sounding too rehearsed but other times my voice was as passionate for the club as it was on day one.

The flyers would always read like this:

“Make a difference, it could save a life. Join us for the Anti-Bullying club...”

Then it would list when the next meeting would be held.

Most of our classmates were familiar with the Anti-Bullying Club already but I felt like I couldn’t stop spreading the word about it.

One of the many changes that the club helped influence was the “safe table” in the cafeteria. The “safe table” could be used to help students who felt alone, bullied, or scared. I would usually sit at the table and then wait if anyone wanted to sit with me and a member of school security to eat lunch. I have met several different people this way and recruited members to the club. I had a hard time remembering their names. But I knew that when I would see them at the meeting with their name tags I would be given a second chance to remember their names later on.

On days like today, I go home after school and start some of my homework before hoping into the shower. Then I get dressed and ready to hold an “Anti-Bullying Club” meeting. I would wear a button-up blouse and a pair of jeans. The faculty supervisor of the club, Mrs. Ernest, said the way I dressed was “business casual”. There was no official dress code for our club, but I noticed more and more students who became members would arrive to the meeting copying my style (some would wear dresses or mimic my blouse and jeans combination).

Mrs. Ernest, myself, and other club members would take turns being in charge of the club meeting. Sometimes, we’d all take turns speaking. We’d play it by ear. Tonight, I was the one in charge of holding the meeting.

Mrs. Ernest greets me in the indoor school basketball court, where we held every meeting. She gives me a hug and then let everyone know I had arrived. After me and the members greet each other, we gather together to help set up chairs and a buffet table. Then, Mrs. Ernest would set up the platters she would pay for at the supermarket.

I once offered to pay her back part of the money, she outright refused to take it.

Once enough people arrive, I walk to the front and begin the meeting.

“Hello, welcome to the Anti-Bullying club.”

I go on to describe the basics of what our club was all about. I mention about the “safe table”, for those not familiar with it, inform people about volunteering for passing out flyers or other events, and fundraising. I then share the mantra of the group and hype up the crowd (an idea by one of our members who helps out in student government).

We average about 2-3 new members a night. We started with 5 members and now we have about 55.

...

Bianca became a statistic the month of August. It has been a few years now, but it seems like yesterday. It was the week before classes started up again. She had walked to the top of a parking garage and climbed on top of the ledge. She didn’t die from the fall but died on the way to the hospital. It would take a year of investigation for them to truly discover what had motivated her to commit suicide. When it initially happened, there wasn’t a suicide note or even a cryptic “goodbye” text. So, without knowing the true reason for why she did it, I would be left with just memories that still haunt my dreams every night.

I wish she would have told me more. I remember for about two weeks before she jumped she had been avoiding my texts. I assumed she was busy or she was going back to school shopping with her Mom. But what if she had reached out to me and I still couldn’t have helped her feel any better? How long had she felt so hopeless that she wanted to die? Did she regret jumping?

More importantly, I wish I would have listened to her when she was alive. Truly listened to her. Maybe she had not told me about the online bullying that skyrocketed before her suicide because I was a bad friend and she had given up talking to me. The pain of that thought makes me cry in the middle of the day if I dwell on it for too long.

Bianca and I were sophomores when the bullying started. The bullies were named Ashley, Tamba, Bambi, Tiffany, and my old friend Travis. One of the reasons why I constantly try to reach out to him is because if he is truly sorry for what happened to Bianca, he would go to a club meeting at least once.

The group would usually torment her when neither school personnel nor I were around. I did witness their bullying and harassment sometimes, however. Travis usually ganged up with one of the other girls since he rarely picked on Bianca by himself.

Ashley was the leader of the pack. I remembered she had bleached her hair platinum blonde so many times that it was as dry as the fluff from a cheap stuffed animal. Her face looked like a model gracing the cover pages in Teen Vogue. Her downfall was that she shaved her eyebrows and drew them on with light blonde eyebrow pencil. Everyone noticed, especially when Ashley had her hair tied back. Those who dared question her “style” were temporarily victimized before she would return to harassing Bianca. Ashley liked to pull on Bianca’s hair and then pretend as if her watch had gotten caught into her hair. She always wore a gold watch with a golden strap that couldget tangled into someone’s hair. Not as often as she claimed to do it, but it was possible. Ashley made sure intentionally get her watch tangled into Bianca’s hair, just to have an excuse to tug at it and rip a few strands out each and every time.

When Bianca asked Ashley why she just didn’t stop wearing that watch, Ashley would cry crocodile tears and say it was a gift from her late grandmother. Bianca apologized.

Ashley also enjoyed spilling food and drink over Bianca and then smiling at her as Bianca was frozen like a deer in headlights. If Ashley was caught spilling food and drinks or getting her watch tangled in Bianca’s hair for the millionth time, the school security would usually suspect foul play. She’d always act as if she were extremely clumsy. Bianca had accused her of lying a few times to the staff, but Ashley was an expert manipulator and convinced the adults that she was telling the truth and that Bianca was just “a resentful person”. Travis would usually laugh on the sidelines as all of this was happening. I remember once that Bianca told me that while Ashley was not far away, he ran up to her and threw a bucket of water against her shirt and said, “Go show Miss Ernest your wet t-shirt!” and then roared in laughter.

Tamba had hair as dry and cheap as Ashley except that it was wavy hair and not straight like Ashley’s. In addition, she had a terrible frizz problem. Tamba usually tagged along with Ashley while Bambi and Tiffany stood by as “cheerleaders”. Travis liked to pose next to unsuspecting victims and make funny faces or give a thumbs-up while Tamba took a picture of someone in an unflattering position. Tamba really enjoyed taking unflattering images of people, with or without Travis, and those images included those of Bianca. She’d post the blackmail images on Facebook or Instagram if the victim didn’t comply with her demands.

Tamba once stole Bianca’s wallet from her bag when she accidentally left it behind at the library. Tamba even had the nerve to return Bianca’s bag to her, minus the wallet. I remember that Bianca had a brief glimmer of hope that maybe Tamba was finally realizing that she didn’t have to always pick on people or blackmail them. The truth was, Tamba threw out Bianca’s wallet in the trashcan. I didn’t find this out until a Facebook post was revealed in court where Tamba bragged about her “feat”.

I remember that Bianca’s parents at the time were so pissed off when they had to replace her State I.D., her allowance for the month, and her student I.D. card. Bianca was upset all week from that, and it wasn’t even her fault. She had said back then that the highlight of her week was that Tamba found her bag and they had exchanged smiles together. I hope the guilt eats away at Tamba every day.

Bambi and Tiffany were sisters. They were the prettiest of the girls of the group with cascading red hair and green eyes. But inside, they had ugly souls. Bambi and Tiffany confessed to taking turns in trying to hit Bianca in the head with objects from the roof of school. I had always wondered why Bianca had such rotten luck with objects falling near her. I had to hold in my anger when I heard their confessions in court. Since then, school cameras have been installed where the girls had attempted to hurt Bianca.

Travis liked to walk with Bambi and Tiffany as if he were dating both women at once. They’d never do anything except kiss on the cheeks. Bambi and Tiffany would take turns slapping Travis’ butt day after day and when Bianca & I would catch them we’d start loudly making gagging noises. Sometimes we’d get caught “gagging” and Travis would shout at us to “Shut up!” then we’d laugh and leave the courtyard. Bambi also liked to accuse Bianca of texting her boyfriend (who didn’t exist) and then slap her across the face. She’d quickly run away while Bianca stood frozen in pain. I have no idea how Bambi was never caught.

Bambi and Tiffany were the daughters of the owner of O’Hara’s Pubs. They have additional younger siblings, but I have never met them and don’t know anything about them except that they exist. Bambi and Tiffany’s parents reached out to Bianca’s parents to apologize through a public interview with the local news. After this public apology, Bianca’s parents served the O’Hara’s a Cease and Desist letter. I can’t say I blame them. Nothing that they could say would ever make this situation okay.

Now Travis. My old friend.

Travis was the son of Wels Smith, a man who played for the Cleveland Browns decades ago. He was a bench player that no one had ever heard of, but he had invested his salary well enough to make a small fortune. He used that small fortune to start a construction business. Travis Smith had blonde hair and blue eyes. He was the crush of every young lady and young gay male. I would admit he had some attractive qualities, but his personality cancelled them all out. Travis liked to loudly laugh while Bianca was being picked on. He was the girls’ male cheerleader. When he wasn’t hanging out with the girls, he was working hard on football. He had once played soccer and basketball but decided on dedicating himself to football just like his father. No one would believe me if I told them he was once a budding artist. I met him in art class in middle school.

...

Bianca eventually confided in her parents about the struggles and they reported the bullies to the school. Bianca told me that she was relieved when they said the school would “take care of it”. However, this relief was short-lived. The school were passive on their action, as I would later discover most schools were. In court, the principal had documentation of contacting the parents to discuss this issue with their children. They had also called for a meeting between Bianca and all of her bullies, but nothing was ever arranged. The parents of all of the bullies all insisted they would take care of things at home.

This wasn’t documented in court, but the school likely did nothing drastic because of who the parents of the bullies were. As I just mentioned earlier, Bambi and Tiffany were the daughters of the O’Haras who owned several Pubs. Ashley’s parents were the biggest donors of the school who came from old money from Chicago. Tamba’s parents were in charge of the Night School for Adult Learners on our campus. The principal and others didn’t want to risk their reputation or their monetary donations for one student. I was glad when the Educational Superintendent asked our now formal Principal to resign. He and the former Principal also made a public apology to Bianca, to her parents, and to the community.

Bianca never told her parents about any of the bullies again, even when the bullying got worse. It was because, as she told me, “it would be no use”. Anything she or her parents said would have been disregarded like before. It didn’t make it right, or fair, but it was understood to be “the way it was”. After the fruitless report, the gang started to bully her passive aggressively at school and then torment her on Instagram, Tumblr, and Facebook. I knew about the bullying at school, but I didn’t know about any of cyberbullying. Everyone except me knew about the accounts. No one was brave enough to come forward; they were afraid of retaliation.

...

Bianca was a “bullycide” victim.

During the late stages of the prosecution’s presentations, it was revealed that the monsters had created Tumblr pages to torment her. Travis wasn’t involved in any of that, which is a saving grace for him. Travis knew they had been editing images on Photoshop on Ashley’s iPad, but he had no idea that they were publishing them online. At least, that’s what he professed in court. Their Tumblr page titled “stupid white bitch LOL” was merciless to my friend:

“Bianca is a waste of space!”

“The fat whale should go die,”accompanied by terribly photo shopped images of her with a pregnant belly.

“Bianca go kill yourself you will never amount to anything. WASTE OF SPACE!”

There were terribly edited images of Bianca and her “favorite teacher” Mrs. Ernest hugging each other naked. And much worse than that.

The girls each took time to edit at least one image. Ashley was the one who did the most images. I have to wonder her motivation towards such sick imagery. Society says that boys are usual mean to girls because “they like them”. I now believe that it doesn’t matter about the sex of the person; Anyone could be mean to someone to show “they liked them”. It hardly made it right.

I think if Ashely would have been honest and told Bianca that she found her attractive, a lot of heartache could have been avoided. Why do I think Ashley found Bianca attractive? Ashley edited several pornographic images of platinum blondes making out with a badly photoshopped image of Bianca. It sent chills through my spine and sent a severe sick feeling down my stomach.

Those girls had so much hatred, conflicting feelings, and free time on their hands.

The only thing that was stronger than my hate towards those evil girls was my drive to start the Anti-Bullying Club. My therapist says I should work towards forgiveness someday to start the healing process. We agree to disagree. I’ll forgive if and when I want to.

As I mentioned earlier, Mrs. Ernest was the teacher who agreed to be faculty supervisor of our club. She and Bianca had gotten along very well, and she was devastated by the loss of her. I believe she became the faculty supervisor out of obligation for a situation she still could have done nothing about.

I remember that sometimes Bianca would be accused of being Mrs. Ernest’s “pet” (which explains why there were photoshopped images of her and Bianca in compromising positions). Sometimes Travis would shout in the hallways that Bianca was “sexual with Miss Ernest”. No one ever took that accusation seriously. Well, maybe some shallow idiots who also took the wet t-shirt stunt seriously.

...

Travis and I have a strange history. We used to be friends in elementary school together. We hung out in art class, then any time we could be together, and we helped each other out. At some point, he drew away from me. He became more interested in sports than in art class. I’d ask him to hang out with me and he’d refuse then tell me he had to go.

He seemed to lose his sensitive side and then he somehow became who he is today. I sometimes have some hope for him, but most of the time I know better.

Travis was the only one who wasn’t convicted to jail time. His family had the better lawyers, I assume. That and the only saving grace he has is that he revealed that his female friends were the ones involved in the cyberbullying & telling Bianca to “go kill herself”. He insisted that he was “encouraged to tease Bianca” and “sometimes forced to, even when he got tired of it”. He insisted and swore under oath that he’d never tell someone to kill themselves. He also testified in court that he had “never meant to make her suffer” and he thought she was “a sweetheart”. That last statement stood with me long after the trial ended.

I confronted him about his statement in court when we had returned to school only months after the trial.

“Why did you bully Bianca if you thought she was a ‘sweetheart’?!”

He was silent.

I stormed up to him, ready to attack him.

“Answer me!” I demanded.

“I feel bad about what happened, too!’ he admitted.

“Why did you do it?!” I nearly screamed.

There were crowds of people surrounding us now.

“Listen. Bianca was a sweet girl but let’s face it now: she was a coward.”

I lost it. I attacked him and continued to claw at him even after security and other faculty members pulled me away from him.

“We need back up! We’ve got a ‘situation’!” I remember hearing a security guard requesting on his walkie talkie.

We were sent to the Principal’s office and I was forced to apologize to him. Not before I tried to attack him again. The police had to hold me back and sternly remind me I could be facing assault charges. I didn’t care. I was so angry that I cried.

“Now say you’re sorry to this young man,” Principal West repeated himself for the third or fourth time. He sounded like a broken record.

“I just want to know why,” I cried, as the police continued to hold me back from lashing out at Travis,

“Why did you do this to her?! You’re responsible, just like them!”

Travis muttered an apology to me as he began to tear up. We made eye contact and I saw that in his eyes he truly was sorry. He even shed a tear himself that his quickly wiped away. He was just like the old Travis I knew long ago. That apology from him was good enough for now.

I finally apologized. For what, I don’t really know. Was I apologizing for my anger? For my reaction?

“She needs a referral to a counsellor,” one of the faculty blurted out.

“We’ll inform the parents when they arrive,” someone else in the room said. I stopped giving eye contact to anyone as I kept my head down to conceal my pain and embarrassment.

That day gave me slight closure to a gaping wound.

...

I have to visit Bianca’s grave to feel any sense of closeness to her. It sounds insane because I know she is gone. But my heart still wants to be near her. She was like a sister to me that I will never know again. Being near her grave gives me the feeling that she “knows” I am making a difference, even if it’s far too late for her. I’ve known her since kindergarten. I knew her long than I had known Travis. It isn’t fair for myself or for her.

I remember the bright and beautiful spirit that she was. She was always the one smiling and remaining positive even when she was bullied in middle school. I thought the same way we had ignored the bullies in middle school would work in high school. The bullies in our middle school would eventually lose interest and would find new victims. The ones she had in high school were eviler and more vindictive.

I wish I would have known then what I know now. I wouldn’t have told her my old mantra: “Ignore them.”

I would have started the Anti-Bullying Club with her while she was still alive. I wouldn’t have worried about the retaliation she and I would have faced. We would have faced them together. Because the problem wasn’t always directly in front of me, I was able to remain indifferent. Having an attitude of indifference when Bianca needed me will always be my biggest regret in life.

It gives me some comfort to know that some changes have been made since her death. Students now face the possibility of suspension, being expelled, or being arrested for anything up to and including “bullycide”.

I sometimes fantasize about slowly torturing “the animals” (I will never refer to them as women) who caused her so much emotional anguish and hurt to make them pay for what they have done. That makes me no better than “the animals” themselves, I know. I rise above these dark thoughts and think of the greater good. I focus my energy into the Anti-Bullying club and to help people like Bianca know that we will no longer stand idle.

...

A Facebook post that Bianca had kept hidden so that “only she” could see it was what incriminated the bullies in court. I don’t remember the exact details. But it was something like:

“Okay Ashley, Tamba, Bambi, & Jessica. You win. I’ll go kill myself like I know you have been begging me to do. No one else calls me Miss Ernest’s “pet” or accuses me of being “sexual” with her. Your Tumblr page will go viral after this, which is all I know you four care about. I know that when I finally end my life, your torturing will finally end. Tamba, I’m sorry we could never be friends. I hated you for how you used to blackmail me, but I’ll never forget when you were actually nice to me. Ashley, I hate you for convincing me that I am truly worthless. Bambi & Jess...go eat shit. I hate you both too. I hope you are slapped thousands of times more than I ever was. To my best friend...I am sorry, I can’t go on any longer. Live on for me. To my parents...I know you tried. I’m sorry I’m an embarrassment. Know that nothing is your fault. The girls are right: I really am a waste of space & you will all be better off without me.”

I remember the reactions of people in the courtroom. The image attached to Bianca’s Facebook post was a screenshot of Ashley messaging Bianca that she would always be there to make sure she “knew her place” at school and that she shouldn’t “waste her time reporting them all to the school” because they were “important people”. The parents of all of the girls looks very uncomfortable, but also angry. Ashley’s parents were disgusted and didn’t even want to look at their own daughter. As the Prosecution read Bianca’s post, the parents would all periodically cross their arms or legs and look back and forth within the courtroom, as if they couldn’t tolerate listening to a dead girl’s last words any longer and they wanted to dive back into their privileged lives and forget about everything.

Ashley clenched her jaw in anger but swallowed, knowing she could say nothing. Bambi and Jessica looked uncomfortable and fidgeted in the courtroom. Tamba cried, especially when the part about her was read in court. Travis looked extremely regretful and distant. I look back on that memory and wonder if he was the only one wanted to take back all he had said and done to Bianca in that moment. At the time, I was still angry that he had called Bianca a “sweetheart” and didn’t think of that until long after our school fight.

When the message to me was read, I started to tear up. Those words would haunt me forever.

The last line addressing her family was when Bianca’s mother wailed in grief. She had to be escorted outside to calm down. Bianca’s father could barely keep a straight face as his face reddened and his tears leaked from his eyes. I still check in with Bianca’s parents from time to time, my parents and hers have become closer friends in this tragedy that has brought them all together.

My own parents tell me whenever I break down that “nothing was my fault.” It doesn’t change how I feel, but it relieves the guilt temporarily. My therapist tells me that I will forgive myself someday, but I don’t know.

After that final piece of damning evidence, the jury deliberated for about 30 minutes and then the girls of the gang were all found guilty of indirect manslaughter. Travis was found innocent because he wasn't involved in the cyberbullying that drove her to her final act. The local media made his innocent verdict a sensational news story for week after the trial. Once reporters were done harassing Travis and his family, the scandal was seemingly forgotten about.

Tiffany, Tamba, Bambi, and Ashley were each sentenced to 7 years in jail for indirect manslaughter. I hardly blinked. It was far less than they deserved, but it was good enough for me. Articles I read on the internet claimed that without the Facebook post from Bianca, they would have gotten six months in jail without parole. Despite the “hard to listen to” messages to all of us, I was glad she did that.

My therapist mentioned the other day that I should be glad that these “young women” would be getting the mental help they clearly needed, even if it was in jail. Part of me doubts they will take any advice. Some of the girls probably still feel a sense of “injustice”. In fact, some of their lawyers had even dared to say in court: “childish teasing has put their lives and well-being in peril.” The only person I give any feeling of sympathy for is towards Tamba. And it’s only because she cried. If she hadn’t had stolen Bianca’s wallet, I would be her pen pal for the next 7 years to honor Bianca. But her deception to my best friend was inexcusable. Not as bad as some of the other girls, but she didn’t deserve me as a pen pal to “redeem” herself. My therapist periodically discusses the possibility of me reaching out to any of the girls, but I honestly don’t see the point. I want to move on with my life as far as I can and forget them.

The only person I would, and still do, consider reaching out to is Travis. I can't give up on him, even if I know he still hasn't changed.

...

Before I know it, most of the week has come to an end. It is now another night for the weekly meeting of the Anti-Bullying Club. I recite the club’s mantra as our meeting begins: “We will no longer be indifferent to what is happening! We will address the issues and then take action!”

Suddenly, I saw someone I never expected to arrive: Travis.

I abruptly ended my speech, so that I could go see him, “Thank you, thank you!” I managed, “Now, I ask for one of us to take the stand!”

Perfect. Julie raised her hand.

“Please give a round of applause for Julie!”

One of our first original members, shy Julie, was brave and volunteered to take the stage. I could hear her speaking into the microphone as she meekly, but passionately spoke:

“Hi everybody. This is Julie. You all know me as the president of the book club...”

“Travis, why are you here? What are you doing here?” I asked when I finally was in front of him, feeling as if I was witnessing a miracle.

He said my name, then tightened his jaw.

“I had a dream about Bianca last night.”

Julie continued in the background: “If a girl like me can be brave and speak to all of you, then anyone can do it.”

“So, why are you here?” I repeated.

“I should have stood up for her,” Travis frowned, “I should have never let it get as far as it did.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Speak your truth!” Julie passionately proclaimed as the audience began to clap,“Believe that you can belong, and that you don’t need anyone’s permission!”

“Bianca she was…” Travis softly spoke, “She is…I…”

“Telling me won’t make any difference,” I blurted.

“Don’t be afraid to speak out!”Julie continued, “If you see something, say something!”

I began to hear applause again.

What I had just said to Travis sounded worse than I had intended it to be. Travis tightened his jaw again, holding in his emotions. I hadn’t seen a vulnerable side to him since our fight and I felt my heart quicken in pace. What was wrong with me? I decided to keep my new feelings held in, also. I maintained a poker face.

“I have to tell someone,” Travis finally responded, his voice clear and unwavering, “My parents don’t ever want me mentioning her name again.”

“We will not remain indifferent to what happens around us,”Julie passionately spoke, “Not anymore!”

“They view me as responsible for her death, too,” he admitted to me.

“Say it with me!”Julie declared in the background.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I sighed, trying to block what was happening on stage, “Listen Travis...since you apologized to me that day…I forgive you.”

There was a long silence between us as we looked into each other’s eyes again.

I hear continuous, loud applause. Julie finished her pep talk and so she went to pass on the microphone to Mrs. Ernest.

“Thank you, Julie,” Mrs. Ernest began, “What a great start to our meeting. I’d like to draw the attention to someone who’s joined us a little late.”

She pointed in me and Travis’ direction.

“How about you come up and introduce yourself?”

I quickly began to shake my head and wave my arms to say “No!”

She looked confused.

I heard Travis laughing softly.

“I finally came to the meeting and now you don’t want me here?” he asked.

“I want you here, Travis!” I quickly said, "I just—"

A long pause was felt between us.

“I’ve missed you,” I finally admitted.

We continued to stare at each other, not sure what to say to each other in that moment.

Mrs. Ernest finally repeated herself, “How about you come up and introduce yourself, Travis?”

She knew who he was.

The crowd below us begins to applause. One of the most both loved and resented of our classmates had decide to make an appearance to our group. It was an occasion worth celebrating and giving Travis the spotlight for. I gently rubbed my hand across his back and hugged him from the side. He hugged me back.

“Don’t be shy, young man!” Mrs. Ernest repeated, “We’re waiting for you.”