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The clang of the metal is drowned out by the loud noise of students in the hall as his small body is slammed into the lockers. Nobody pays any attention to the blond boy who’s about to be beaten up for the umpteenth time. This was a daily routine for the group of boys. Roger was being held up by his shirt collar, his feet quite a few inches off the ground. He was at eye level with the bully. He had gotten used to being in this position. Each school day, right before lunch, the top bully and his group of friends would crowd the younger boy at his locker, beating him up before taking his lunch money. Two of the boys would take the fourteen-year-old boy’s backpack and search through it, taking whatever they wanted. The top bully would attack Roger, while the rest made a circle and kept an eye out for adults. This had been going on since Roger had gotten into high school, which would make it about three years- almost four. The group of bullies were two years above him, so they were obviously much bigger and stronger than Roger at any given age.Roger was on the smaller side, both in weight and height. His weight was less than what it should be- it was almost unhealthy. It was Roger’s high metabolism that denied him any large amount of weight gain, no matter how much food he ate. He could eat a ten-course meal and only gain two pounds. But Roger wasn’t made fun of for his weight. He was made fun of because of his height. Most of the boys his age were already growing taller; and on a rare occasion, some boys grew to over six feet. But Rog was under six feet, and by quite a lot. He was five-foot-four, currently. Or at least he was the last time he went to the doctors, which had just been last month. Yes, he was growing. Slowly but surely. His doctor said that if he kept up his same diet, he could grow to at least five-foot-eleven How he hoped. The bullies, being two years or so older, were much taller than Roger. The top bully himself was pushing six-foot-four, hence why he lifted Roger so much off the ground. Eleven inches off the ground, to be precise. Each time Roger was raised into the air, his heart pounded from not being able to feel the floor. ( He later admitted to himself of having a fear of heights. )Roger turned his gaze to the boys shuffling through his backpack, furrowing his eyebrows. He saw the look of frustration on their faces and decided to say something, “Front pocket, the smallest one.” The boys stopped looking through his back and looked up at him, glaring. Roger smirked. He didn’t care that they took his lunch money, he just wanted this to be over. The two boys looked at their ‘leader’ and nodded. The top bully growled, “So, you got a mouth on you, huh?” His face was now an inch closer to Roger’s. “You won’t be able to say much after I knock your teeth out…” The bully gripped onto the younger boy’s shirt with just his left hand ( not surprisingly, Roger weighs like an ounce to him ), making a fist with his right. He brings his arm back, getting ready to punch the small and helpless boy. Just as he’s about to swing, a noise shoots throughout the hallway. He lets out a sigh of relief as the bell rings, telling the large group of boys that it's time for their last class of the day. The older boy lets go of him, glaring. "This isn't over, Taylor. Your ass is mine later, mark my words," The bully drops him, and Roger falls the eleven inches to the ground with a small thud. He knows a bruise is forming on his bottom. His backpack is thrown at him, ransacked through. He's just glad they don't take his homework. Roger gets up and dusts himself off, pretending nothing happened, just like he does every day. He turns in the direction of his classroom and notices a pair of eyes on him. It's an older boy who's unfamiliar to Roger. He looks about sixteen or so, judging from the matureness in his face and his height. The boy's gaze isn't a harsh or judgemental one, it's more sympathetic. Roger can't help but feel comfortable when he looks at the boy's eyes. Roger realizes why he's looking at him, and he puts his head down, walking faster, his feet shuffling on the tile floor.He can't wait to be home.