Standing Up
Bored and restless, Mark Allen picked up Harry’s football in the front yard. “Let’s play catch,” he said to his brothers Harry and Eddie.
“Hey, that’s my football!” Harry yelled.
Mark Allen ran out into the street. He tossed the football in the air over his head and caught it several times.
Harry ran after him. “You give me my football!”
Mark Allen turned and tossed the football over Harry’s head to Eddie, who joined them in the street.
Harry waved both hands over his head. “Toss it to me, Eddie. Keep it away from Mark Allen.”
Eddie and Harry tossed the football back and forth between them. Mark Allen objected to being left out, and when Harry and Eddie ignored him, he ran between them and intercepted the football. The power struggle soon ended in an unspoken truce as all three settled down and tossed the football back and forth between them.
Minutes later, Mark Allen spotted Lee Albert Smithers coming down Eighty-second Street from the direction of Wornall Road. “Crap!” That’s all I need today is to run into the neighborhood bully.” he said under his breath.
Lee Albert crossed the streetcar tracks and walked past Mark Allen, Harry, and Eddie without a word, but instead of continuing up Eighty-second Street to Main Street, he turned and glared at Mark Allen from the front edge of the vacant lot across the street.
Mark Allen acted as if he didn’t notice.
Harry and Eddie kept their eyes on the football.
“You toss a football like a pansy!” Lee Albert yelped at Mark Allen with a snicker.
Mark Allen ignored the remark.
“Did you hear me?” Lee Albert said. “I said you toss the football like a pansy.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” Mark Allen said, clearly embarrassed that Lee Albert was being nasty to him in front of his family.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” Lee Albert said.
“Ignore you,” Mark Allen said, tossing the football to Harry.
“That’s cause you’re a pansy.”
Momma, who sat next to Papa in the two rocking chairs on the front porch, dropped the doily she was making and her crochet hook in her lap. “Papa, it looks like that boy is about to start a fight with Mark Allen. Do somethin’,” she said.
“Mark Allen!” Papa called out. “Stand up to that bully. Go over there and let him know you’re not going to put up with his crap. And if need be, smack him upside the head.”
“Papa!” Momma scolded. “That’s not what I had in mind.”
“He don’t bother me none, Papa,” Mark Allen said.
“Yes, he does. Do as I say.”
“But I don’t want to, Papa.”
“You’ve got to stand up to bullies. Do as I say!”
“I don’t want the boys fightin’, Papa!” Momma said. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Papa got up from his rocking chair. “Mark Allen, you either do as I say, or I’m comin’ out there and smackin’ you upside the head,” he said, raising his voice.
Harry tossed the football to Eddie and told him to take it up into the front yard. Eddie did as Harry said, then stood near the front porch and watched the drama unfolding in the street.
“You better do what Papa says, Mark Allen,” Harry said. “Go punch that creep’s lights out.”
Mark Allen glanced at Harry. “Yeah, you just want to see him beat the tar out of me.”
“Just do it, you big chicken,” Harry said. “And if you don’t, Papa’s gonna come out here and make you wish you had.”
Mark Allen took a deep breath. Then he trudged over and faced Lee Albert, who stood with his arms folded over his chest and a smirk on his face.
“Lee Albert, why don’t you just get the hell out of here and leave me alone?” he said.
“Cause I don’t want to, pansy, and you can’t make me,” Lee Albert said, unfolding his arms, and shoving Mark Allen with both hands.
Mark Allen stumbled backward but quickly regained his footing. It sickened him that he looked like a wimp in front of his family, and in a rush of adrenaline, he lunged at
Lee Albert with clenched fists and landed a single punch with his right fist on Lee Albert’s jaw so hard that his fingers felt broken.
Lee Albert grabbed his jaw, stumbled sideways, lost his balance, and fell to the ground.
He looked up at Mark Allen with a dazed look on his face. Blood oozed from his nose. Slowly, he got up and wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. Then he turned with the dazed look still on his face and hurried up the hill toward Main Street.
At the top of the hill, he turned and yelled, “Up yours, Mark Allen! Up yours!”
Harry ran halfway up the hill and shouted, “Come on back you big, fat weasel, and my brother will knock you on your butt again!”
Surprised and relieved at the same time by the outcome of his bold move against Lee Albert, Mark Allen headed for the front porch. He dropped down on the second step, took a deep breath, and said with a sigh, “I’m sure glad that’s over.”
Momma said, “Come up here, Mark Allen and let me see your hand. It must hurt somethin’ awful.”
Mark Allen opened and closed his right hand several times. “It’s okay, Momma. It just hurts.”
Papa beamed. “Now, that bully will think twice before he gives you a bad time again. See what happens, Mark Allen, when you stand up for yourself?”
“I sure hope you’re right, Papa. But I got a feelin’ I’m gonna have to stand up to him more than once to git him off my back.”
“Then you do just that,” Papa said in a final word.
Copyright © 2025 Frank Zahn. Published in Meat for Tea: The Valley Review, Volume 19, Hot Dog Issue 1, pp. 118-20, https://www.meatfortea.com/pdfs/meatforteav19i1.pdf