dealing with bullies

It was the 1970-71 school year and I was in the 7th grade. I started that year at the juinor high school in Taylorville Illinois but at some point my family decided it was time to move. I am not sure if this move was before or after the Christmas break so I don't remember if it was 1970 or 1971, but the important thing here is that in the seventh grade I would be transfering to another school, this time mid-year.We were moving to Virden Illinois, which was not all that far, but it was another town and we knew absolutely no one. I remember the afternoon my parents took me into the school to get regestered and signed up for my classes, which I would be starting the next day. I was so angry with them for moving, and the idea of starting at another school, that on the ride home I was in tears and I remember taking the class list and ripping it up into little pieces and throwing them out the car window. That didn't help because the next day after the bus ride to school, I had to go back to the office and ask for another class list. I was the 'new kid' again and over the next few weeks when I was not being picked on I was being ignored. I was isolated in a school full of kids. I honestly can't remember a single persons name from that school, partly because I was not there that long, we only lived there for two or three months, and partly because I had not a single friend. I never got into any 'fights', but there was one bully and his two toadie friends that went out of their way to pick on me. I didn't like fighting but over the years have had more than my share, some I won and some not. My dad always told me if I ever ran away from a fight, he would kick my ass.
One day school was let out early but I had to stay around and wait for the school bus because we lived several miles outside of town. There happened to be a basketball game going on in the gymnasium so I went in to watch the game while I waited for the bus. The gym had those pull out bleachers and I walked up to the top row of seats to watch. There were only 20 or so people there, but after a few minutes the the bully and his two friends came in and sat down in the bleachers about half way up and a little to the right of where I was sitting. I tried to ignore them but I could see they kept looking back at me and whispering to each other. Suddenly there was a loud 'pop' right next to my head. The bully was using a large rubber band and shooting tightly folded pieces of paper at me. The first one struck the wall behind me but didn't miss by much. He was holding the rubber band over his shoulder and one of his friends was pulling and firing the paper projectiles, one every minute or so. They were doing this without turning around and looking at me but they were hitting very close to me. I tried to ignore this but I was getting angry, and after 3 or 4 misses one struck me in the face. I really stung and it didn't miss my eye by much. I sat rigid, almost shaking with anger. I remember thinking and telling myself that if they shot one more paper wad at me I would make them regret it. It only took a minute or so and another one popped right next to my head. Something inside me snapped, I stood up and casualy walked down to where they were sitting, stopping on the bleacher seat just behind the one they were sitting on. I can still see the bully turn his head, not looking straight at me but looking at me from the corner of his eye and smirking at me. Without really thinking about it, I drew back my right leg and kicked him in the left side of his head. I kicked him just above his left ear, not really hard, but hard enough that his head snapped. I had only hesitated there long enough to kick him, probably only 3 or 4 seconds, then continued on my way. Either no one noticed or no one cared, and the bully surely never told anyone about it because I was never called into the office or confronted by anyone in authority about it. That one act seemed to solve the bully problem, for the rest of my time there those three never as much as looked at me. Oh, and did I mention that I was wearing cowboy boots at the time. That had to hurt.