An Update to "On Bullying among Young Boys"

There has been a small development since I published my post "On Bullying among Young Boys." Every year we ask the school to place our son Daniel in a different classroom than his two bullies, but this year there's a designated class for the advanced kids and both our son and his primary bully, Michael, are in it. The placement overrode our request, which we didn't know about until the start of school.

At first we were worried, but Michael, being a cunning bully, learned long ago to not conduct his bullying in front of adults and so behaves relatively well at school. Daniel also tends to play inside now and so does not encounter Michael or Robert with any frequency outside of school. 

But he did meet them at the nearby playground last month.

I was there to watch, to be sure Michael and Robert didn't try to pull anything. Our son was playing with some other, younger children when the two of them showed up. They asked him and another boy to play a four-person baseball game with them. At first our son was hesitant, but he decided to try. 

Daniel hasn't really played baseball, doesn't know the rules, so there were many awkward moments, but Michael was extremely nice to Daniel the whole time, explaining everything to him. Daniel even accidentally hit Michael with the ball when throwing, and there was no fighting or screaming. Robert seemed a little confused and tried to start some low-level drama with Daniel, but Michael didn't go along and, since Michael is the leader, Robert did not persist. I cannot emphasize enough how nice and helpful Michael was with Daniel while they played.

But I've read a bit about how white southern evangelicals raise their kids. I know from his past actions and statements that there's abuse in Michael's home, definitely emotional and very likely physical. What has happened is that Michael has matured enough that he has fully encapsulated the anger and fear and violence inside him. He has learned to adopt his mother's exterior pose. Everything is great, always be friendly, always act happy.

There is no doubt in my mind that the child who choked our son and repeatedly harassed and hurt him in increasingly sophisticated and sadistic ways for over a year is still there. He didn't get better, because his parents are still the same people. At his core, he is his father, but wrapped in the camouflage of his mother's cheerful exterior. He is still capable of doing terrible things, and the terrible thing inside him will come out when it wants. He is still a danger to our son, and will go on to be a danger to many, many more people as he grows up and moves out into the world.

In thinking this through, I was reminded of a character from Peter Watts' novel Starfish. Karl Acton is a psychopath, sent to work with other psychopaths and severely traumatized individuals at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, near the Juan de Fuca Ridge. Lenie Clarke is a woman who has a history with such psychopaths. Watts' descriptions seem apt for the sort of personality that Michael may be evolving toward. Trigger warning: Abusive relationship dynamics.

Behind her, Clarke feels Brander turning for the hatchway.

"Maybe my etiquette is out of date--" Acton says.

His voice is suddenly very quiet. Nobody else seems to notice.

"--but I've always through it was--rude--to walk away when someone's talking to you."

There's no obvious threat in the words. Acton's tone seems pleasant enough. It doesn't matter. In an instant Clarke sees all the signs again: the reasoned words, the deadened voice, the sudden slight tension of a body rising to critical mass. Something familiar is growing behind Acton's eyecaps.

"Brander," she says quietly, "why don't you hang around and hear the man out?"

Behind her, the sounds of motion stop.

Before her, Acton relaxes ever so slightly.

Within her, something deeper than the rift stirs in its sleep.

"They're a snap to install," Acton says. "It takes about five minutes. GA says deadman switches are standard issue from now on."

I know you, she thinks. I don't remember but I'm sure I've seen you before somewhere...

A tiny knot forms in her stomach. Acton smiles at her, as through sending some secret greeting.

A few pages later, after Acton attacks her and others come to her defense:

"Stop it," she mumbles.

Caraco hits Acton's temple twice in rapid succession. Acton's head snaps sideways, he snarls, but he doesn't release his grip on Brander.

"I said stop it!"

This time they hear her. The struggle slows, pauses; fists remain poised, no holds break, but they're all looking at her now.

Even Acton. Clarke looks up into his eyes, looks behind them. She can see nothing staring back but Acton himself. You were there before, she remembers. I'm almost sure of it. Count on you to get Karl into a losing fight and then bugger off...

... (next page)

Acton collapses on her pallet. He stares at the deck, avoiding her eyes. "Don't you know when you're being fucked over?"

Clarke sits down beside him. "Sure. Getting punched out is pretty much a giveaway."

"I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to help all of you." He turns and hugs her, body shaking, cheek pressed against her, face aimed at the bulkhead behind her shoulder. "Oh God Lenie I'm so sorry you're the last person in the whole fucking world I want to hurt--"

She strokes him without speaking. She knows he means it. They always do. She still can't bring herself to blame any of them.

He thinks he's alone in there. He thinks it's all his own doing.

Briefly, an impossible thought: Maybe it is...