"Come 'ere, blockhead! I wanna talk to ya!"
The little boy stopped, clutching his books tightly to his chest. His heart was beating so fast as he tried to find out where his would-be assailant was - not so that he could face him face to face but rather so he knew what direction to run opposite from. His mother disapproved of him coming up with cuts and bruises, no matter if he pleaded with her to believe that it wasn't his fault.
Kids just a bit bigger than he came out of the shadow of the school building, surrounding him. As the big bully of the group confronted him, he realised he had nowhere to go. "Pl-please don't hurt me. Here! Here's some money!"
"I don't want your stinkin' pocket change, rich boy." The ringleader towered over him and, when he had a quick gesture, the smaller boy flinched back instinctively. When the boys that had been behind him grabbed his arms, he lost hold of the books he was carrying. As they fell to the ground, surely to get muddy, he started to cry. "Oh, rich boy's cryin' because his books are getting all messy. 'ere, why don't we make them a matching set?"
The band of boys flung the boy into the lake, laughing as he tried to get his books out of the muddy puddle. The little boy was relieved as the matron called the children back into class, for it spared him from further ridicule and harassment.
Later, after a harsh verbal scolding from his mother and a few cracks of the paddle from his father for coming home with books and clothes destroyed, he cried in private to his nurse, who was getting him prepared for bed. "I don't know why all the boys pick on me, Lady. I'm nobody."
The woman grabbed him gently by the chin so that she could force him to look up at her. "Don't you ever let me hear you say that again, you understand? Those mongrels pick on you because they're jealous. You're going to be someone someday, mark my words. Now, get up here. Into bed with you."
As she tucked the covers under his chin, he smiled. "You're right. I will be somebody. I'll write books and be the most popular man around. Everyone will know who I am."
"That's more like it." She kissed him on the forehead before blowing out the candle. "Sleep well, Gilderoy."
The little boy stopped, clutching his books tightly to his chest. His heart was beating so fast as he tried to find out where his would-be assailant was - not so that he could face him face to face but rather so he knew what direction to run opposite from. His mother disapproved of him coming up with cuts and bruises, no matter if he pleaded with her to believe that it wasn't his fault.
Kids just a bit bigger than he came out of the shadow of the school building, surrounding him. As the big bully of the group confronted him, he realised he had nowhere to go. "Pl-please don't hurt me. Here! Here's some money!"
"I don't want your stinkin' pocket change, rich boy." The ringleader towered over him and, when he had a quick gesture, the smaller boy flinched back instinctively. When the boys that had been behind him grabbed his arms, he lost hold of the books he was carrying. As they fell to the ground, surely to get muddy, he started to cry. "Oh, rich boy's cryin' because his books are getting all messy. 'ere, why don't we make them a matching set?"
The band of boys flung the boy into the lake, laughing as he tried to get his books out of the muddy puddle. The little boy was relieved as the matron called the children back into class, for it spared him from further ridicule and harassment.
Later, after a harsh verbal scolding from his mother and a few cracks of the paddle from his father for coming home with books and clothes destroyed, he cried in private to his nurse, who was getting him prepared for bed. "I don't know why all the boys pick on me, Lady. I'm nobody."
The woman grabbed him gently by the chin so that she could force him to look up at her. "Don't you ever let me hear you say that again, you understand? Those mongrels pick on you because they're jealous. You're going to be someone someday, mark my words. Now, get up here. Into bed with you."
As she tucked the covers under his chin, he smiled. "You're right. I will be somebody. I'll write books and be the most popular man around. Everyone will know who I am."
"That's more like it." She kissed him on the forehead before blowing out the candle. "Sleep well, Gilderoy."