Lovemore (Part 3 of 3)

It wasn’t just name calling either. They threw rocks, spit at me, and one kid even tried to whip me with his older brother’s bull whip.
I did discover people who were gentler and kinder, though, usually the girls my age. They didn’t seem to engage in any name calling, and I took refuge in their friendship. Even though most of the time I didn’t want to be seen with girls, they seemed to seek me out and understand me. That would soon change, as everyone knows, but for a few brief weeks in third grade, most girls and I had an understanding.
As it usually turns out, the boys grew out of their name calling mood. I still had to deal with bullies from time to time, but gradually the jeering and scorning stopped. I wasn’t called Lovemore -- in a derogatory sense -- anymore.
Of course I was not the only one to be persecuted by my peers even though at that age I felt so alone. But I think it made me have compassion for other kids who were being treated in a similar fashion. In a way, those rude boys made me the kind of person I have been for the rest of my life.

Coming Tomorrow: The Trash Pick-Up