March 10, 1925

James was leaving school when he heard a noise behind the building-yells, grunts, and the unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh. A fight. James froze, debating whether or not he should investigate. The logical side of him said it was none of his business. The other, more curious side, prodded him to go and check it out. Finally his curious side won out. He made his way around to the back of the school and saw exactly what he expected to see- a fight- although he hadn't expected it to be so one-sided. One of the combatants was twice as big as the other, so it wasn't so much a fight as it was a smaller boy being beaten up on by a larger one. Unfortunately, James recognized the smaller boy. He was pretty sure his name was Steven, but his classmates, typically in jest, called him Steve or Stevie, as in

Sickly Stevie

Can't come play

Always gets himself in fights

Cause he's too dumb to run away

They thought themselves terribly clever for coming up with that one, but as far as James was concerned it was just unnecessarily mean, especially considering what they already did to Steven on a regular basis. He'd always just kind of let it slide before, not knowing what he could possibly do to help, but not this time. This time he was going to do something about it.

"Hey!" he called." Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" The boy beating up on Steven turned.

"What, like you?" he asked. James spread his arms wide.

"Why not?"

The bully stepped closer to James, probably trying to intimidate him, but his tactic didn't really work considering he was shorter than James was.

"You don't want to get involved in this, Barnes," he growled. James moved closer to him, turning his own intimidation tactic against him. He took an unconscious step backwards, and James resisted the urge to smile.

"Don't I?" he asked. His voice was deathly calm. "Because the last time I checked, I didn't like it when the big guy beat up on the little guy just because the little guy couldn't fight back"

"Well, the last time I checked, the little guy who couldn't fight back shouldn't have been getting himself into fights in the first place," the bully countered with a sneer. Then he took a swing at James, a swing which he easily dodged. The bully's built-up momentum sent him stumbling, and James took the opportunity to punch him in the face hard enough to knock him backwards on his rear. He lay on the ground, a hand over his now bleeding nose, staring up at him in shock. James lunged forward and he scrambled to his feet, turned tail, and fled.

"You know, there is such a thing as running away," James said, walking over to Steven and holding out a hand to help him up. Steven lay spread-eagled on the ground, with a bloody nose and a split lip and the beginnings of a black eye. He propped himself up on his elbows and eyed James' outstretched hand warily, as if he was expecting it to close into a fist and hit him at any moment. Only when nothing happened did he finally grasp the offered hand and allow James to haul him to his feet.

"Are you here to bully me too?" he asked.

"No, obviously not, "James said. "Why?" Steven shrugged, a noncommittal, resigned gesture.

"Everyone else does," he said simply.

"Well, I'm not like everyone else"

"Then how come you don't ever do anything when they bully me?" There was anger in Steven's voice now. He straightened almost imperceptibly.

"I just did something, didn't I?" James demanded. Steven's only response was a shrug. James sighed.

"Okay, let's start over," he said. "My name is James, but you can call me Bucky if you want"

"None of them call you that, "Steven noted. James took "them" to mean their classmates.

"That's because none of them are my friends" Steven looked at him in surprise

"Am I your friend?" he asked quietly

"If you want to be," James replied. The smile he received in response, tentative and grateful, was the only answer he needed.