Rewind to 1952.
Black rainclouds hung low above the South Central town of Travis County, Texas, a storm was brewing in the air. From between the thickening clouds, gurgles of thunder made its warning loud and clear that it was going to be a bad one. It didn't wait long at all to follow the fast cracks of lightening glimmering in the still light sky.
The rumbles had almost overpowered the sound of a school bell, but nonetheless students emerged from their school building gleefully. It was Friday and school had been dismissed- the week was over. Whereas majority of the students ran out excitedly, rushing as far away from school as possible eager to be playing in the puddles all weekend with their friends, one kid in particular didn't share the same excitement.
Thomas Hewitt hung back behind the thick crowd of exiting students, keeping to himself and clinging to his schoolbag for comfort. He didn't like the kids in school, they all either teased him or ignored him and both hurt just as much as the other. He made his slow exit behind the students, being passed by others ignoring him and keeping their distance. In his mind he could hear them saying to each other, "It's that freak!"
A hard elbow to his side caught him off guard from one passing kid, "Hey Hewitt!" The kid laughed as he kept running, "Hurry up, you retard!" The kid looked back at Thomas picking up his bag from the ground and laughed again before running to join his friends by the school gates. These kids were all so happy, Thomas wished he could be included in that feeling.
Instead of that happiness that those kids were all so familiar with, Thomas was trembling with fear. He hated storms and he had no friends to play with. He still walked behind his peers to the school gates, hoping to go unnoticed so he wouldn't have to begin his weekend with the taunts from bullies fresh in his mind. He was excited though to spend Saturday in the kitchen with Mama baking and sewing. She promised to teach him how to sew a mask. She was his only friend.
Perhaps next week, he'll show up to school with a brand new mask and nobody will notice that it's him. Maybe instead of being teased, they'll like his new face and want to get to know him. They would know that was really nothing wrong with him.
Another crack of thunder escaped urgently. It was becoming angrier and angrier. Thomas stifled a whimper as he passed the school gates and began to hurry his feet along the dirt road in attempt to beat the rain, it was a solid thirty minute walk home so he had to be quick. Charlie would be so mad if he ruined his shoes in the mud, so Thomas took the shortcut through a vacant lot behind the Last Chance gas station.
Thomas rushed through the small paddock between the school and the gas station. He could see the sign of the Last Chance nearing closer and he hurried his feet along high enough off the ground not to ruin his shoes too much. His plan to get home before the storm settled in for the night was ruined.
"Well, lookee who we have here…" A voice came from behind him.
Thomas spun around to see the owner of the voice. It was Skip Tonkin- Thomas' main tormentor.
He could feel his heart sink to his feet- into the mud. Droplets of rain began to douse his skin in heavy beads. He grew suddenly cold, frozen in fear. Skip had him cornered just as he promised he would time and time again. Behind him emerged his two other cronies armed with sticks and a slingshot.
Skip stepped forward, "Told you we would get you, you freak."
His friends, Noog and Diggy laughed between themselves.
"No!" Thomas yelled, "I-I-I…" He stammered, beginning to feel a lump in his throat.
The boys mocked his stutter, "He- He- He He's a-a- a freak." The three boys laughed at Thomas' expense and Skip broke away, his switchblade clicked between his fingers as he stepped towards him. He didn't know what to do, transfixed on Skip's menacing gaze trying to figure his next move.
"I'll show you what we do to freaks like you." He whispered behind his blade.
Thomas' threw his schoolbag aside and ran. He ran where his feet would take him with the wet ground squelching beneath his every step. He scaled and jumped a wire fence leading back to the paddock behind his school.
"Throw rocks at him!" The voices echoed behind.
The thunder was closing in on him too becoming louder and louder. Thomas screamed. But nobody listened.
Still running, he turned behind him to see the three stooges were still close behind. He was trapped between Skip and the thunder, slowed down by the mud, blinded by the rain and chased by the lightening. The sky was darkening, everything closing in on him.
Thomas was dodging flying rocks from all angles. He ran back to the schoolyard, the safest place he could think of. Too ashamed to run to Alfredo at the gas station for help or comfort. He was a stubborn boy, unaware of his strength. Unaware of his potential like a beaten down dog. He was still a puppy.
His back and arms were stinging from where he had been hit. He didn't realise that he was bleeding, or crying. He had been running for some time before he no longer felt the pelts from rocks being aimed at him. The sound of shuffling feet behind him had ceased. He swirled around, almost losing balance. Eyes widening in disbelief. They were gone.
Looking down at his feet, he let out a howl of hopelessness. Charlie was going to hide him as soon as he saw Thomas' shoes, the anticipation for more beatings made him lose his balance. Falling to his knees on the grass of the schoolyard he wiped his face with bloody hands.
A small voice broke the sudden silence. "Hewitt?"
Thomas stood up, ready to run or fight. The recognition of his own name filled him with dread. He couldn't see past his dark hair that stuck in thick strands across his sweaty and bloody face blocking his sight. He fought against his hair to wipe it away from his face with one hand, his other was made into a fist balled in defence. He finally saw the owner of that sweet voice.
She was a slender girl, although her uniform was tight. She probably wore that same dress since first grade. She looked a couple of years above his grade, he had seen her around the school. She stood with a log in her hands, "I don't think they'll be awake for a while." She said, turning her head towards Skip, Noog and Diggy who were slumped on the ground a few feet away.
She turned to Thomas, "Thomas?…" He panicked when they made eye contact, she dropped the log by her side.
The shouts from Uncle Charlie were heard from the gates, "You leave him the hell alone!" He was standing at the school gate, pointing an accusing finger at the small girl.
He had come to pick up Thomas from school, knowing how his nephew feared storms.
"I know you!" Charlie continued, "You're Iris. Gwen's young daughter. You wait until your father hears about this!"
"He's alright Mr Hewitt." The girl called in the distance, shielding her eyes from the rain and unthreatened by the older man.
Thomas straightened himself up, looking over his blood streaked shirt. Why did this have to happen to him?
The girl approached him carefully unsure how he would react. A look in his eye told her he might lash out but she wasn't certain if he would for sure. He was such a sweet boy.
She closed the gap between them, Charlie was calling from the fence to hurry on up.
"Here." She handed him a tissue from her pocket in case if in any way it could even help the stain.
He offered her a slight wordless smile. She didn't flinch. Instead she returned the same unsure grin.
"Come on now, Tommy. Don't get Mama worryin' – won't stop her damn belly achin'."
The two parted ways. She gave him a pat on the back and watched him exit the schoolyard head down, feet splashing in the mud in defeat.