Tears ran down her dark-skinned face, eyes red and nose runny.  The school bullies crowded around her, racial comments dropping like bombs, destroying her self-confidence.  She was isolated and lost, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.  The bullies towered over her, waiting for that final scream, that final tear, that would feed and satisfy their hunger for power.  And here I was letting this girl suffer.

Amy moved from Africa with her parents and two sisters three years ago, when she was in Grade 6.  Amy never quite fitted in.  She always had her friends, but was never considered ‘popular.’  Well, that’s what the bullies thought.  At least Amy had friends – I spent lunchtimes alone.  Then one day at lunch when I heard cries of help from behind the library, I went around to see who was crying and that’s when I found Amy, drenched in tears, and the bullies standing over her like giants.

They were tormenting her.  They told her she didn’t belong and that she was different.  It shouldn’t matter where you come from or what your skin colour is, everyone is equal and no one deserves to be treated like this.  I looked around and I was disgusted and appalled by the kids who were standing around and encouraging the bullies.  I guess that standing, watching and doing nothing is just as bad.  Everyone watching was now involved and had to make a choice to be part of the problem or part of the solution.  I had to make this decision as well.

Amy’s screams grew louder as the crowd grew bigger.  Amy was being shoved, pushed and tossed around, like a football in a group of energetic boys.  She collapsed to the ground as they kicked dirt onto her dark skin.  Amy looked around, desperately seeking someone to jump in and help her.  I wanted to save her from this cruel torture; I knew that if something were to be done, it had to be done now.  But what would be the point? No one here would listen to me.  I’m just a nobody.  Two steps forward, two steps back, I just couldn’t bring myself to get involved.  It was like my feet were glued to the ground.  Should I get a teacher or would it just make me their next target?  Then suddenly the school bell sounded for last period.  The crowd slowly departed, as if nothing had happened at all.  Amy was left on the ground, distraught, and nobody went to help her, not even me.

The next day, it was announced that Amy wouldn’t be returning to school due to ‘an extreme bullying incident.’  At that point my heart dropped.  I was a witness of this torture.  It was just as much my fault as the bullies’.  Amy needed help and I simply didn’t even try.  I shouldn’t have what other people thought of me.  Amy couldn’t return to school or her friends and that is something I’ll always regret, as the fear inside me prevents me from telling what I had witnessed.  Could I have made a difference?  I’ll never know because I never tried.  I only hope that it never happens to me.