The Vitamin Warrior

Marcus stared at the mirror, counting every flaw. Sixteen and still scrawny, while Jake the human bull roamed the hallways like he owned them. Jake had made ninth grade miserable for everyone, especially the quiet ones. Marcus had learned to blend into lockers, become invisible, survive.

The vitamins were supposed to change everything. His mom had bought them—"for your growth," she'd said, hope in her eyes. Marcus had started taking double doses, then triple. Maybe if he bulked up, Jake would stop slamming him into walls between classes. Maybe if he looked less like a target, he'd stop being one.

Buster, his ancient golden retriever, waited by the door. The dog was the only one who didn't make Marcus feel small. Buster looked at him like he was already enough. They walked the same route every evening—past the old cable factory that had shut down three years ago, its rusty suspension cables crisscrossing the sky like abandoned spiderwebs.

"You're perfect, you know," Marcus told Buster, scratching behind his ears. "Humans are the ones with all the issues."

Buster just thumped his tail against the pavement.

Friday afternoon, Marcus found himself cornered behind the gym. Jake loomed over him, that familiar grin that promised pain. But then Jake's phone buzzed. His face fell. "My dog," he said, voice cracking. "He's sick. They don't know if he'll make it."

The bully's eyes were wet. Marcus saw it then—Jake wasn't a monster. He was just a scared kid with a dying dog and too much anger he didn't know what to do with.

"Buster had cancer last year," Marcus found himself saying. "We did chemo. It's expensive, but there's this vet clinic downtown—"

Jake's head snapped up. Really?

They sat there for twenty minutes, two boys who'd hated each other for years, talking about dogs and chemo and how much it sucks when things you love get sick. Marcus forgot about the vitamins, forgot about wanting to be bigger. He just sat with Jake and hoped a dog he'd never met would pull through.

Monday, Jake found Marcus at his locker. "Buster's fine," Jake said. "Thanks, man."

Then something weird happened. Jake nodded. Not a mean nod, not a threat. Just... acknowledgment.

Marcus stopped taking the extra vitamins that night. He wasn't big yet. Maybe he never would be. But somehow, for the first time, he didn't feel small.