Set in 1999 Seattle, this origin story of Kyle Kelly reveals the uncomfortable truth about bullying: it’s born not from cruelty, but from fear, shame, and the desperate need for control.

A Story from The Great American Eagle Hunt Universe

Author’s Note: Kyle Kelly is one character in the novel The Great American Eagle Hunt, releasing this year. This is his origin story. Please subscribe to be notified when the full novel releases.

Seattle: Queen Anne High School: November 1999: Thursday 

Third-period chemistry ends. As usual, Kyle has an open study hall period followed by lunch. While the 1,700 kids at Queen Anne High School hurry from class to class, building to building, Kyle takes his time, letting the crowd thin out. 

Kyle doesn’t at once head to the library for study hall. First, he takes a detour up to the third floor. He knows that every Thursday after third period, the third floor is the least occupied. He heads into the boys’ bathroom at the end of the hall, just across from the staircase. Here, it’s easy for him to slip in and out with little chance of being noticed. 

Today is a typical day filled with stress, causing his I.B.S. to flare up. Kyle knows that here he can take care of business in this third-floor bathroom without his condition being discovered. He has every open bathroom and open time throughout the school memorized. On Tuesdays, he uses the basement bathroom. On Fridays, he uses the boys’ locker room. 

In the third-floor bathroom, Kyle makes it to the last stall, unbuckles his belt, drops his pants, and sits down just in time. Nausea sets in, a sweat breaks out, a headache begins to pound. He drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes. 

“I fucking hate this,” he moans quietly. 

He hates taking pills every day, the antispasmodics for the pain. He hates the constant diet monitoring; nobody knows what will trigger his system next. He hates the stress from sports, scouting, and advanced college prep classes, all of it making his condition worse. 

But most of all, he hates the secrecy. Kyle knows he can’t talk about this to any of his friends. High school is cruel enough. If his problem gets out, he believes he’ll be the school’s laughingstock, the kid who nearly shits his pants. That’s why it’s worth the trek up to the third-floor bathroom. That’s why it’s worth it to be late for study hall. It’s worth getting a reprimand every week for being late. 

After a few minutes of breathing and relaxation, he slowly regains his composure. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head. Normalcy is returning. 

Looking at the stall door in front of him, he sees graffiti scratched into the paint: 

ARNAUB PATEL = CURRY STINK. GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM. 

Kyle knows who Arnaub is. He’s a first-year scout in the same Boy Scout troop at Queen Anne High as Kyle. Arnaub is part of a patrol named The Magnificent Seven. Kyle can’t stand that patrol, thinking they’re a bunch of troublemakers who constantly undermine his authority as the Assistant Senior Patrol Leader. At almost every meeting, The Magnificent Seven patrol makes Kyle lose control of the proceedings. They prevent him from keeping order.  If it were up to Kyle, The Magnificent Seven would be gone. 

He puts his hand on the door and tries to rub off the graffiti. Even though he can’t stand Arnaub, he hates graffiti; to Kyle, defacing property disrupts the order of things. 

He tries to rub the graffiti off with the palm of his hand. It only smudges a little, the slur is still perfectly readable. 

“Well,” Kyle thinks, staring at the scrawl, “Better him than me,” he rationalizes. 

Even though Kyle barely knows Arnaub, a new student who just moved from Bangalore, India, he knows he doesn’t like him, simply because he’s part of that rival patrol, The Magnificent Seven. 

Cleanup, flush, pants up. Kyle checks if the coast is clear. A quick trip to the sink to wash hands and face and he’s out. No witnesses. 

He bolts to the stairwell and down three flights to study hall. 

Safe in study hall, Kyle finds his usual back table with his group, The Red Devils. This is his main gang, the guys who do everything together. They’ve been together since grade school.  They play varsity soccer and believe they can make it to state finals this year. They’re in the same scouting patrol, determined to lead the troop to an All-District camp championship. Everything they do together is focused on winning. It’s the ultimate resume builder for college. 

The usual members are there: the Delvecchio twins, Timmy and Tommy, known throughout the school for their sadistic sense of humor. They have a reputation for pushing students into lockers or knocking books out of hands for a laugh. They’re currently suspended from the wrestling team for being too violent, apparently, they thought it was going to be more like WWE than Olympic sport. 

Seated next to them is Clark Gibson: elitist, swim captain, straight-A student, and possible D1 scholarship winner, and Johnny Rogers, co-captain of the soccer team. 

As Kyle sits, he notices Timmy Delvecchio scribbling and drawing. Papers are everywhere, Timmy is always drawing. Even though Timmy is a middle-class white boy from the affluent suburbs (both parents working at major tech firms), he’s convinced he’s the next street artist like Banksy, Keith Haring, or Basquiat. Markers and pencils are scattered across the table. 

“What are you doing?” Kyle asks. “Your shit is everywhere. Can I get some room?” He grabs a handful of magic markers to make space for his books. 

“Stop!” Timmy lunges, grabbing the markers. “Those are my new pens. This one cost me sixty bucks!” He holds up an extra-thick black marker with a one-inch felt tip. As with all his markers, Timmy has taped a piece of red duct tape at the base to help him spot them and prevent theft in art class. 

Timmy scoops his papers into a pile, jams the markers into his backpack, and goes back to work, this time scribbling on the inside back cover of a book. Kyle knows it’s a library book. Why is Timmy defacing school property like that? Again, it grates on Kyle’s need for order. 

“What are you doing?” He asks again. 

Timmy spins the book around to show him. On the inside back cover, etched in thick, black ink: 

ARNAUB PATEL = CURRY STINK. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM. 

Kyle recognizes the words, they’re exactly what was on the bathroom stall. The entire group leans over to see; they snicker as they read the slur. 

“That’s you?” Kyle asks. “I’ve seen this before.” 

“My work is becoming famous,” Timmy chuckles. “Dude, relax. Everyone knows it’s true. You can smell him a mile away.” 

“No, don’t do that. It’s borrowed property,” Kyle says, reaching for the book. 

Timmy slams the cover, nearly catching Kyle’s fingers. 

“What the fuck’s your problem?” He sneers. 

“I just don’t think…” 

“That’s right,” Timmy interrupts. “Don’t think.” The low laughter at the table tells Kyle to keep his objections to himself. 

“The only thing you need to think about is: Are you with us? Or are you a snitch? Because if you’re not with us, you can sit at another table. Clear?” 

Kyle knows this is complicity through silence. But he lets it go, he has too much to lose. Crossing these guys would mean no more friends, no starting soccer lineup, no troop leadership. All of that off his college resume. His parents would kill him. 

Kyle quietly shakes his head, looks down, pulls his homework out of his backpack, and gets to work. 

                                                                                            # 

Seattle: Queen Anne High School: November 1999: Thursday: One week later. 

One week later, Kyle notices that Timmy Delvecchio’s graffiti is everywhere. His eye has become trained to spot Timmy’s handwriting, he’s found slurs in library books, written on bathroom stalls, on bulletin boards, even on scraps of paper dropped in the hall for others to find. 

Over the last seven days, Timmy’s messages have spread beyond Arnaub. Kyle now finds slurs scrawled in nearly every bathroom, locker, stairwell, and outdoor bench. Nobody is safe. Timmy’s main themes have shifted to “Top 10 Ugliest Girls at Queen Anne,” “Who’s Getting Held Back This Year? (Losers List),” “Faggot Watch: Who’s Next Out of the Closet?” 

At this point, there’s a steady line of parents in Principal Snyder’s office, furious about what’s being written about their children. Arnaub’s parents are threatening legal action. The school is divided, some students think it’s funny, others take it seriously and contribute to the chaos, and the rest are angry and searching for the culprit. 
 
Teachers and staff are patrolling the hallways between classes.  Extra lookouts are posted everywhere.  But with a student body of over 2,000 spread across four buildings, they can’t protect everything at all times. 

“I’m staying out of it,” Kyle repeats to himself, heading for the third-floor bathroom. 

                                                                                                # 

That afternoon, Kyle attends soccer practice with Timmy, Clark, and Johnny. They push him hard, driving him to his limits. Every time Timmy and Kyle attacks the ball, Timmy mutters: 

“Are you with us? Or are you a snitch? Because if you aren’t with us, you can kiss this team goodbye.” Kyle keeps his head in the game, performing well and scoring twice. 

After practice, Kyle showers as quickly as possible. He just wants to get home and avoid the others. He’s not in the mood for their crap tonight. As he heads back to his locker, he notices a group clustered around someone’s locker. Alex Hunter stares at the locker door, he and the others are trying to scrub off the graffiti someone’s written: 

Faggot Watch: Alex Hunter is Next Out of the Closet! 

Alex looks over at Kyle. 

“Do you know who did this?” He asks in an accusatory tone. 

“No. I had nothing to do with it.” 

“I wish I could believe you,” Alex retorts. 

Kyle wants to say something, anything, but can’t bring himself to it. He lowers his head, turns, and walks two rows down to his own locker. There, his friends are snickering as quietly as they can. 

                                                                                          # 

Seattle: Queen Anne High School: November 1999: Friday Morning 

Kyle is hoping for a quiet day. As he arrives at school, entering building #1 from the main entrance, he plans to stop by his locker and use the bathroom before class. But he spots Mr. Snyder waiting in the hallway. Kyle looks away, hoping to go unnoticed. 

“Mr. Kelly,” Snyder calls out. “I need to speak with you for a moment. Please come to my office.” 

Kyle tries to stay calm. He hasn’t done anything. Maybe Snyder just wants to talk about homework or grades. 

“Just stay calm,” he coaches himself as he sits in Snyder’s office. He takes a deep breath as Mr. Snyder closes the door. 

“Mr. Kelly, I need your help.” 

“Anything,” Kyle replies, trying to act relaxed. 

“I’ll get right to it. There was an incident last night. Vandalism in the boys’ locker room after soccer practice. A slur was written on another boy’s locker.” 

“Yes, I saw,” Kyle mumbles. 

“You know this graffiti is everywhere,” Snyder continues. 

“Yes,” Kyle says. 

“You know we’ve been investigating,” says Snyder. “Whoever gets caught…” He pauses, leaning forward. “And they will get caught, they will be expelled. They’ll be responsible for paying to clean up all the damaged property.” 

“I understand,” Kyle says, eyes on the floor. 

“Whoever it is,” Snyder repeats, “will have a very serious and damaging incident on their record. No respectable school will admit a student with a vandalism charge.” 

“I agree,” is all Kyle can whisper. The stress and anxiety are eating him alive; his I.B.S. is burning through his stomach like acid. 

“Good. That’s why I need your help. My team is narrowing down a list of students we want to talk to, but without evidence, we can’t make a formal accusation.” 

“I understand,” Kyle squeaks. His stomach is raging; his legs shake. He thinks he’s going to be sick in Mr. Snyder’s office. 

“Good.” Snyder pauses, purposefully dragging it out. He can see Kyle is uncomfortable, maybe long enough, and Kyle will slip up. 

Kyle breaks into a full sweat. His breathing grows heavy; his heart pounds. 

“I’m asking you to help me,” Snyder continues. “I know you’re active in soccer, scouts, and student leadership. You’re building an impressive resume. That will look great on college applications.” Snyder puts on the pressure. “So, will you help me? Just keep your eyes and ears open. And if you see, hear, or know something, you, or anyone else, can tell me anonymously. The guilty party will never know who or what I was told. Does that sound fair?” 

“Yes,” Kyle answers. “I’m not feeling well. May I be excused?” 

“Of course,” Snyder says. “Have a great day.” 

Before Snyder can finish, Kyle bolts from his seat and rushes out. He needs a bathroom now. No time for his usual spots, he runs across the hall into the nearest boys’ bathroom. 

Inside, he searches for a stall, but stops, stunned. He’s not alone. Standing by the mirror is Arnaub Patel. One hand holds a rag, the other a can of cleaning spray. On the mirror is another slur: 

ARNAUB PATEL = CURRY STINK. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM. 

They lock eyes. Kyle doesn’t have time to speak; he runs into a stall, drops his pants, and sits down just in time. He groans as his stomach gives way. Heavy breathing. Sweating. Arnaub hears the distress and approaches the door. 

“Are you okay in there?” Arnaub asks. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Fuck off,” Kyle snaps. “Leave me alone.” 

“I understand what’s wrong. My brother is the same way…has the same condition,” Arnaub says. 

“I said fuck off!” Kyle yells, punching the stall wall. 

“Okay, I will,” Arnaub says calmly. “But answer me one thing first.” He pauses. “What did I ever do to you?” 

That single simple question cut Kyle deeper than any aggressive comeback Arnaub cold have thrown at him.  Kyle buries his head in his hands in shame. Kyle hears the spray can set down, and Arnaub starts to leave.  

“I’ll give you your privacy,” he says as he exits. 

                                                                                           # 

In high school, there are no secrets. The rumor mill moves fast. By the end of second period, every student knows Kyle Kelly was called to Principal Snyder’s office. All day between classes, Kyle hears whispers in the hallway. 

“Is he the guy doing it?” “I’m not sure, but he knows something.” “He can’t be the guy, he’s too much of a pussy.” “It has to be him, he’s always in the bathroom.” 

The end of the day can’t come fast enough. There’s a soccer game after school, and he believes it’ll take his mind off things. During the game, he plays hard, but everything feels off. The team, especially Timmy and Johnny, ignore his directions. Alex provides no support. Kyle is out there alone. His team lost 3–0. 

“I just want to go home,” he tells himself, on the verge of tears. 

In the locker room, the air is tense and silent. The sting of losing is the least of their problems. Kyle reaches his locker. Timmy and Johnny aren’t there, they must have left early. Kyle removes his uniform, wraps a towel around his waist, and heads for the showers. 

In the shower room, he finds his teammates standing and staring, shock on all their faces. They turn to look at Kyle as he enters. One step inside, he sees the words scrawled in ink on the tile: 

KYLE KELLY CRAPS HIS PANTS! 

Kyle is now the target.  This will fly through the school rumor mill in no time. 

Panicking, Kyle grabs his towel and tries to wipe off the words. No luck. He sprays water from the shower, but still nothing. The other boys leave as Kyle desperately tries to scrub away any trace. Still nothing. Completely broken, he collapses in tears, water running down his face. He feels ruined. 

Then his sadness starts to morph into anger. 

“Arnaub,” he whispers. “That little fucker did this. He wants revenge. I’ll fucking kill him.” 

Kyle picks himself up. Ignoring the stares and whispers from the others, he moves back to his locker to get dressed. 

“I’m going to find that little shit and pummel the hell out of him.” Seething, he punches his locker door with all his might. He quickly dresses, runs a hand through his short red hair, and sits on the bench to put on his shoes. 

It’s then he sees that the locker next to his has popped open, the force of his punch rattled it loose. This is the locker Timmy used earlier that day. Kyle reaches out to close it, but something is jamming it. Opening the door, his world turns upside down. 

The object holding the door ajar rolls out, it’s a thick-tip black Sharpie marker. Kyle’s seen this marker before, in study hall. It’s Timmy’s marker, wrapped with the distinctive red duct tape. He flashes back to earlier: 

“Stop!” Timmy lunges at Kyle, grabbing the markers. “Those are my new pens. This one cost me sixty bucks!” 

Now, Kyle stands, marker in hand, and walks back to the shower room. He inspects the graffiti: 

KYLE KELLY CRAPS HIS PANTS! 

He uncaps the marker, presses the extra thick tip to one of the letters, it’s a perfect match. Kyle is certain, his own teammate, Timmy Delvecchio, has turned on him. 

He returns to his locker, grabs his backpack, and starts to head out. 

“I wonder if Principal Snyder is still here. I can speak to him now. Timmy will be expelled by Monday,” he gloats to himself. 

Kyle hesitates, turning the marker over in his hand. Its weight feels different now, heavier. He drops onto the bench, thoughts racing. 

“If I tell Principal Snyder what happened, it’s over for Timmy and the others—they’ll get kicked out. And me? I might get dragged down too. They’ll say I knew the whole time that I went along with it. I might lose as much as they do.” 

But holding the marker, everything shifts. This is power. His shield. Timmy, Johnny, Clark, they’ll be afraid of him now. He can blow up their world, any time he wants. 

As long as he keeps this, Kyle holds the cards. With that, nobody can mess with him. At last, he gets to make the rules. At last, he gets to feel safe. 

Order. That’s what he’ll create, whether anyone else likes it or not. If the school can’t keep them safe, he will. He’ll use this power to protect himself, to call the shots, to make sure nobody gets in his way. 

Let them try. He’s done being pushed around. 

In that moment, something in Kyle changes. A bully, with real power, is born. 

# 

As Kyle leaves the school, the cold Seattle fall air stings his face. But tonight, it’s not going to bother him.  It’s not going to bother him that his brothers have a car, but don’t bother to wait and give him a ride, making him walk home.   
 
Across the parking lot, he sees four figures standing in the shadows of the tall elm trees.  He knows who it is. The guilty always return to the scene of the crime.  They want to see the fall out of their work. 

 Kyle, with no fear walks directly towards them. He’s not thinking of school rules or expulsions. He’s not thinking of being a good person. He is thinking of what it felt like to lie crumpled on the shower floor, water in his eyes while the others left him and laughed behind his back. He remembers the weight of every choice he has not made. 

The four stand there. They don’t come to meet him halfway. “This will be the last time I come to them,” Kyle thinks to himself. As he reaches the boys, he puts the marker up the sleeve of his raincoat. 
 
“You did it,” Kyle says. His voice is low, even. “You did all of it.” 

Timmy’s grin wobbles. “So what? It’s a joke.” 
 
Kyle stares into Timmy’s eyes. The directness throws Timmy off. He’s never been challenged by Kyle like this before. 

“Listen, we heard you snitched to Snyder,” Timmy tries to talk his way out of it. “It’s all good. They’ve got nothing on us.” 
 
“Think of it this way,” Johnny chimes in. “If one of us gets hit, that takes the focus off us for a while. You’re taking one for the team, buddy” 
 
But Kyle isn’t buying it. 
 
“It’s like what I said before. Are you with us?” Timmy tries threatening Kyle. 
 
“No,” Kyle replies.  “You’ve got the question wrong. The question you should be asking is, are you with me?”   
 
The boys look confused. They don’t know what he’s talking about. Then the look on their faces turns to confusion as Kyle slides the marker from his coat sleeve to his hand.  
 
Timmy looks down. He laughs at first. Then his laugh dies because he realizes the marker is not just a pen. It’s proof. It is a boot on his throat. Timmy can see the red duct tape. All four know this is a guilty verdict. 

Kyle thinks of every joke these guys told at his expense.  He thinks of college apps, and of parents, and of the long list of tiny betrayals that built this world. 

Power is not pretty. Power is simple. Power is protection. 

“You want to keep doing your art?” Kyle asks. He taps the marker against his palm. “You want to keep your spot on the team? You want your mom to keep smiling at school fundraisers? Then you stop. You stop and you say nothing. You keep making the little jokes with the twins. But you do not touch anybody’s locker. You do not touch Arnaub. You keep your mouth shut when someone asks. You do what I say.” 

Timmy swallows. Then he sees the hard set of Kyle’s jaw. He sees the way the boys still give Kyle space. Fear is contagious. Timmy nods once. 

Kyle tucks the marker back into his coat sleeve. He turns and walks away. He will use what he has found to build a wall. He will set the rules for who laughs and who is laughed at. He will be first with the shove, not the one who was shoved. He will be orderly. He will be feared. 

He has learned the single lesson the school and his parents taught him in a hundred quieter ways: power protects. He curls his fingers around the marker as if it were a sword ready to strike  

He has what he needs, their fear. 

“I’m not ratting you out, yet. I realize now power is knowing the truth and having the courage to use it to keep yourself safe.” He looks at each of them. “You will all continue as before. But now, you report to me. You are my protection. I keep the order. If any of you step out of line, if any of you so much as thinks about crossing me, I will use this pen to fuck up your lives. Understand? 

The four nod. No other words need to be spoken.  Kyle turns and walks away.   

The shame and panic that once fueled Kyle’s physical distress dissipate, replaced by a cold guarded focus. He knows everything is changing; his status, his friends who he realizes were never true friends. They are tools that can never be trusted.  But in this moment, he knows he found his ultimate weapon: leverage. He no longer needs acceptance; but he now demands obedience. Obedience keeps the order. The order keeps him safe. 
 
Kyle Kelly, the boy whose every action was once dictated by the fear of being seen as weak, declared the new world order. Kyle looks upon his silent subordinates and understands the ultimate truth of Queen Anne High: order does not come from rules; it comes from power. The nervous condition that defines his youth was now subdued by a far greater force, the boundless, cruel confidence of a new kind of bully. 

Author’s Note: Kyle Kelly is one character in the novel The Great American Eagle Hunt, releasing this year. This is his origin story. Please subscribe to be notified when the full novel releases.