9/11/2017
chapter two: Under the Oak
Anthony was crying again.
The bullies seemed to be slowly worming their way into every last inch of his life; and now he always felt a sick fear wherever he went, as if he had, and had never had a home. The great oak was his only solitude; and he always felt that, even now, it was only a matter of time before they eroded this spot too, filled it with hatred and fear. he was shaking as he leaned against the foot of the tree; great, fat tears sliding down the end of his nose.
The wind blew, and he thought he smelt autumn in the breeze; the smell of flowers and herbs and leaves. Anthony took huge gulps of the air, breathing in, relishing the fresh forest scent. But something was wrong. In the wind he thought he could catch a whiff of... was it cologne?
Shadows rustled around him, and Anthony felt the sudden urge to turn and run. He got up from his squat, and, wincing from the soreness of his legs, started away. Suddenly there was a swishing sound behind him. He felt himself being thrown to the ground, an arm around his throat. Yellow and orange leaves stuck to his knees as he opened his mouth to scream.
Peter looked among the hustling crowd for his brother; but Edmund was nowhere to be seen. No doubt in the art room again- Peter mused silently. He looked back at the cafeteria. It was crowded and filled with the smell of sweat.
No, he wouldn't go there. He would eat his lunch someplace else. In the far distance he spied a tall, grand oak.
It seemed like the perfect place.
A hand clamped down hard onto his mouth.
"Make a sound," a familiar voice drawled, "And I'll make it so that you won't ever walk again."
As Peter got nearer and nearer to the oak, he thought he could hear muffled sobs... screams... curses.
He hurried along the pavement.
Anthony was hurled on to the hard concrete. He rolled over, groaning. Fresh blood seeped from his knees and elbows. A foot kicked him hard in the stomach and he choked on his own saliva, trying to curl up. Someone kicked him in the back then, and he was thrown forward again. Everything became watery... but in the blue blur of the sky above he thought he could see five or six faces swimming into view now and then, sneering down at him.
Someone flipped him onto his back and climbed atop him. A punch was thrown into his face. Another. Then to his stomach. His arms and legs. Anthony could hardly see anymore... but he could hear clearly. Laughs, jeers that then stopped- hurried footsteps, panicked calls...
Peter rushed to the clearing; the sight he saw made him go tight inside.
Five boys had were kicking a boy in Edmund's class. Anthony, Peter remembered. One of them climbed on top of him and began throwing punches into his face and stomach. Anthony's head was thrown back, his eyes blind with fear. And all Peter could see was the resemblance between him and the long ago Edmund. Without thinking, he charged like an angry, blind bull...
Anthony felt strong arms around him. He was safe.
Peter picked up the boy carefully. He was deathly pale and thin. Hazy, soft and dreamy brown eyes peered up at him, and the mouth twisted into a sweet smile. Peter laid a hand on the smooth brown head.
Later they sat in the hospital wing. Anthony's head was still on Peter's chest, and he was peering tiredly at the bullies who had some to apologize. After they left, Anthony asked Peter warily:
"What if they come for me again?"
"They won't." Peter told him. "God is with you. He won't ever leave- and He is stronger than all."