After a near-sleepless night, Monday morning arrived, as it always did. Timmy’s eyes fluttered open for what felt like the twentieth time and he glanced at his clock. Thirty minutes until he had to get up. He groaned and stared at the ceiling, his stomach tying into knots. Blinking back the beginning of tears, Timmy wished he could go back to his old school where he had friends.
       Another Monday meant another week of dreading the ride to school … and the ride home … and lunch and recess. He used to love going to school, but now he hated it. By the time his mother called him down to breakfast, eight-year-old Timmy Hawkins had rolled out of bed, dressed, and gathered his books together. At the top of the stairs, Timmy bit back a whimper. Dragging his backpack behind, he grabbed the railing.
       Step. Stop.
       Just the thought of getting on the big yellow bus made his stomach hurt.
       Step. Stop.
       His knees shook and his bottom lip trembled.
       “Timmy,” his mom called up the stairs. “If you don’t get down here, your breakfast will be cold.”
       He marched down the rest of the stairs with stiff legs and left his backpack near the door. His favorite breakfast food—pancakes and bacon—sat on the kitchen table. Knowing he had to go to school, the smell made his stomach sick. He pushed the pancakes around on the plate, trying to hide his fear. Just thinking about school made him want to throw up.
       Because of Zeke McGee.
       Zeke was the biggest bully at Angels Harbor Elementary. He stood a head taller than Timmy and had wider shoulders than every other kid in the third grade. His blond hair had red tips, and it flopped over his beady eyes. With a pig-like nose, fists that hit like a hammer, and a permanent scowl, Zeke fit everybody’s picture of a bully. And that picture made Timmy’s life unbearable.
       “Hey, you haven’t even touched your bacon,” his mom said. “Are you feeling okay?” Her eyes filled with concern.
       Timmy’s lips slid into a pout. “My stomach hurts.”
       His mom leaned over and brushed Timmy’s bangs aside with her palm, feeling his forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Maybe a little food will help settle your stomach.” She ruffled his light brown hair. “You probably miss your friends from your old school. Give it time. You’ll make new friends here.”
       Like Zeke would ever let that happen.
       Timmy picked up a piece of bacon, but his stomach rumbled in protest. Instead, he forced down a couple bites of a pancake then put his fork down.
       “Not really hungry, Mom.” Timmy sighed. Too bad he didn’t have a fever. Then he wouldn’t have to go to school. Any day without Zeke was a good one.
       Timmy’s mom kissed the top of his head. “Okay, then. Go brush your teeth and get your backpack.”
       After cleaning up, Timmy plodded to the front door, put on his red ball cap, and grabbed his backpack.
       Hugging him tight, his mom said, “Try to have a good day, honey.”
       “Thanks, Mom,” Timmy mumbled as brightly as he could.
       He slowly walked outside and looked to see if the bus was coming. Just the thought of seeing Zeke’s piggy face made him nervous. Timmy would rather do anything than get on that bus.
       His knees knocked against each other when the bus turned the corner.
       Stop it. Zeke hits harder when you shake.
       His only hope was that Zeke wouldn’t be on the bus. Be brave, Timmy.
       The bus stopped and he heard the door hiss as it opened. Timmy trembled as he climbed on board. The bus went silent when he reached the top step. His hopes for a Zeke-free day were dashed when Timmy heard his evil laugh. Head down, he shuffled down the aisle.
       “Pick up your hat, loser!” Zeke smacked Timmy on the back of his head, knocking his hat off.
       Timmy cringed and picked it up.
       Zeke howled with laughter. “What’s the matter, toothpick-boy? Can’t take a pat on the back?”
       Timmy frowned. He wasn’t that skinny. He kept walking and bit his lip to keep from crying. Crying only made Zeke worse.
       The hulking driver kept his eyes forward and kept silent. Maybe he was deaf. Or maybe he cranked up the tunes on his MP3 player so he wouldn’t hear the kids behind him. Either way, the driver never did anything. Timmy didn’t expect him to anymore. He didn’t expect anyone to.
       Would anyone ever care what Zeke did?
       An Asian girl named Allison met his gaze while clutching a heart-shaped locket necklace. The sad expression on her face made him feel a little less lonely, and he started to sit beside her. But she pushed her glasses up and turned her head away.
       He’d never make any friends.
       Finding an empty seat, Timmy curled into it, keeping his head down. If Zeke couldn’t see him, maybe he’d forget about him. Being called names like toothpick-boy hurt. Sure, he wasn’t as big as Zeke, but neither was anyone else.
       What had he ever done to Zeke?