"Settle down, everyone!" Donna yells over the hustle and bustle of people taking their seats.
I sit quietly in the front row and try my best not to attract any extra attention to myself. Out of the corner of my right eye I can feel the stare of Belinda the bully glaring at me. Her nose wasn't broken after all, but her eyes are pretty bruised from the impact of the log.
I spoke with Consuela briefly after it happened. My hope was to calm her down, but she just shrugged her shoulders and shuffled off. In her mind, the bully deserved the whack. In my mind, I think we'd do better if we all just got along.
The crowd begins to quiet and Donna takes that as her cue to start speaking.
"So, I guess most of you know what happened the other day -- and my hope is to have this meeting to address the issue with everyone's input, and also to lay some ground rules for the people who are invited to live here."
There's a few nods, but most eyes are intently watching Donna and waiting to see what she'll say next. "So, I think we can all agree that we don't want to live in a place where there is violence or aggression -- especially after what we've all been through."
I readjust in my seat as Donna speaks briefly about the incident between Belinda and myself. She gets feedback from the group who are fairly unanimous about the importance of working together; without any strife.
"Belinda," Donna says and focuses her attention on the rabid beast from god-knows-where, "how's your nose?"
Belinda shrugs her shoulders and gives a slight nod as if to say 'better'.
"Well, I am sorry that it escalated to that point -- but I think it should serve as a reminder that you can not bully anyone around."
"Violence," Donna continues and looks at me for a brief moment before panning her attention across the rest of the room, "will be completely untolerated. Any issues should be resolved with consideration and common courtesy. That means talk it out. We have no room for savage behaviour here -- and if you continue to prove to be disruptive to the town you will be asked to leave. We're going to create a town council with annual elections. This town council will be responsible for overseeing the governing of our day to day workings, and in extreme situations, be responsible for mediating conflict resolution."
"There's pencils and papers on the table to the side, and Jim is standing beside a ballot box. I want each of you to write the name of one person you would like to see on the council and the top twelve people with the most ballots will be our new council. Any questions?"
No one raises their hand. It's fairly obvious that we need some sort of structure if we're going to continue forward.
"Ok then, why don't we start with this side of the room and work our way across?" says Donna as the side that has Belinda gets up first to vote. We make brief eye contact as her and her pack walk past me. The tension between us is virulant. I'm still having a hard time understanding why she has so many issues with me.
When it's my turn to get up and vote, I write the safest name I know for town council, Jim's, before folding my paper and placing it in the ballot box.
As I turn back to take my seat, Belinda and her gang have chosen to leave -- which is fine by me. And as they begin to read out the names one by one and the chosen twelve are revealled -- my mind wanders to Belinda and her hatred, and my heart starts to fret.
People like Belinda have the ability to surrepticiously plant discord. They prefer to destroy the garden because tending to it disagrees with their nature.
I hope I'm wrong and it's just my fear getting carried away; but somewhere deep inside of me -- in a place that is governed by the accuracy of a strong internal compass, I am convicted. Dread taps away at the walls of my stomache, and I'm very concerned that despite the rules that the town has put in place to create peace -- Belinda will see to it to get her way.
