Still Waters
Prologue
Shot with jagged cracks, the slick asphalt road offered the passage to a tiny figure with no cover from the steady patter of rain. In the figure's arms were worn and torn books held, pencils with ripped off erasers and crumpled, lined pages from a notebook were tucked between the yellowed and crinkled pages of the books. The figure stopped the familiar trek when one of the pencils came loose, clattered unceremoniously to the ground, and rolled away towards a curb. c
Scratched shoes hesitated, then obligingly scuffed towards the fallen remnant of another tedious school year. Tempted to leave it behind, the figure shrugged sallow shoulders, abruptly jumping back when a horde of massive, shiny, expensive shoes stomped over the pencil, breaking it in half.
A pompous, yet quite high-pitched voice broke over the quiet drum of rain. "Hey, Bridge! We're really gonna miss you while you're off to secondary! Where'd you say you were going?" The boy, Piers-aptly named after his voice-taunted. Moving forward, he shoved the figure in the shoulder.
The figure clamped her mouth shut. She was a sickly waifish figure with ratty clothes and knobby knees to big for her own legs. Shaking her head, dusky flaxen hair moved to the side. She gripped the books tighter when Piers attempted to knock them out of her hands. They didn't budge. "Aww, no fun," he chuckled, self-satisfied.
A more familiar-and even less pleasant-boy, Dudley, made himself known as the ring-leader. He repeated himself several times, in an almost spoiled stutter. "Mummy and Daddy-Mum and Dad...Mummy and Dad didn't wanna waste their time sending her anywhere, a real dolt she is. I reckon they'll send her to that all girls school. You know? The one for the mentally delayed? They take charity cases all the time."
"Yeah! Right outside London!" An excited voice belonging to Malcolm squealed. "That's right! I've heard they take a few alley cats off the street. But I guess they're still cleaner and smarter than you. Huh, Bridge?"
Looking down, the girl tried to hide her bulging jaw. due to grinding her teeth. Still, she did not say anything.
"Alley cat got your tongue?" Malcolm prompted maliciously. Shoving her in the shoulder, she stumbled a few steps to the side, but managed to keep her balance. Due to that attack, she was unable to thwart Piers from whacking her school supplies all over the road. She looked around with wide eyes, hoping she appeared resolute.
The group of boys watched her with cruel fascination for a few more seconds until eyes became glazed over in boredom. Malcolm shifted back, avoiding her intense, wounded stare. "'S wrong with her, Dud?"
Dudley shrugged staring at her. He was always reluctant to call her his cousin. "Dunno. Brain damage I guess, on account of the car crash."
"Does she ever talk?" Piers whispered conspiratorially.
Shrugging again, Dudley kicked a textbook, successfully flipping it over and open, so the pages soaked up the rainwater on the road.
"Hey!" Malcolm chanted, jumping up once. "Let's go find her brother. At least he'll put up a fight. And he's not nearly as stupid as she is."
Nodding once, Dudley began to walk in the direction the girl was originally supposed to be going. The others followed behind him, like disciples, in a tangled cluster.
As soon as their backs were turned, the girl dropped down to the road to retrieve her supplies. Her skirt didn't cover her knees completely and caused the big, ugly things to turn red.
She grabbed a sheet of paper, only to have it fly out of her hand and sail towards the group of bullies. She went to grab for a pencil. Hand about to grab it, it shot out from under her and flew forward. Suddenly, all the school supplies were up in the air, bursting forward. The bullies began to yell when they realized they were being pelted. Piers was hit in the back of a head with a textbook, a paper sticking itself over Malcolm's face. A pencil knicked Dudley's cheek. He clapped a hand over the bleeding skin and viciously turned on his heel.
The school supplies were now lying in a pathetic pile at his feet, his dear, dear cousin scrambling up from where she knelt in the street. She could feel her knees protesting as she straightened both legs.
Pointing a finger at her, the other hand clapped to his cheek, Dudley took one, menacing step forward. Teeth bared, he snarled at her, "You're never gonna get out of that cupboard now."