Warnings: bullying and child abuse

Piers does not like the school at all. Too many kids look at him, and he knows that look all too well, even at seven years old. His mum looks at him like that. So does his dad. They don't want him here, and it shows in the ways they move away from him when he gets close.

One boy, Gordon, punches him so hard that it knocks the breath from his chest. The teacher doesn't see it, and Piers knows better than to tell her. Tattletales don't get happy endings, and he's certain Gordon would only make his life worse.

Piers hunches in slightly, trying to make himself small. Sometimes, when he does this and is as quiet as possible, his parents seem to forget that he exists. He hopes it works now; he hopes the kids will just let him slip away.

And they do. Piers sits in the shade of a tall tree, his back against the sturdy trunk. He tells himself that he's okay with it. He's never had any friends before, so why should it bother him now?

Still, as he watches the other kids in his class laughing and playing, his eyes become wet. He knows he needs to wipe the tears away. Boys don't cry. Boys are strong and tough.

He doesn't. No one is around, so why should he care if he cries?

…

His parents don't ask him about school. He doesn't expect them to. Piers doesn't think they ever actually wanted him at all.

He keeps his head down as his mum yells at him for tracking dirt on the carpet. Please let her just yell, he thinks to himself, because the alternatives are worse. Piers knows all too well what it feels like to be burned by a cigarette or smacked with the nearest object. Worse, still, he knows the panic of being thrown in the hall closet and locked inside until his mother decides he can behave.

"Look at you! Stupid boy! Quit slouching. Christ, you're a fucking embarrassment!"

Piers just mumbles his apologies and stands a little taller as he walks through the hallway and into his room.

Alone, he collapses onto his bed, a sob ripping through his throat.

This is the way it is, the way it's always been. Piers doesn't think he'll ever know what it's like to belong.

…

"Hey, Polkiss! Polkiss!" Gordon runs over, smirking as he eyes Piers up and down. "Why do you even come to school? No one wants you here."

Piers knows that already. No one wants him at all.

He just keeps his head down and walks away. Gordon calls him a coward and words that Piers knows only adults are supposed to use, but Piers doesn't look back. He keeps walking until Gordon's taunts no longer reach him.

…

Piers doesn't think it's wrong to want to have friends. Sometimes, when his parents don't notice he's there at all, Piers hides behind the couch and watches the telly with them. Kids are supposed to have friends, and seeing those smiling actors just makes his heart hurt.

There's something missing in his life, something he wants more than anything.

Still, Piers doesn't know if it will ever happen. The kids at school always look at him like he's some sort of freak. Time and time again, they make sure he knows he doesn't belong, and he's going to end up all alone.

At least Piers can pretend.

…

Gordon doesn't even wait until recess to begin his torment. Piers barely steps foot on the front lawn of the school when he feels a shoulder slam into him, knocking him off balance. Piers crashes onto the ground, his trousers ripping at the knee. Wincing, he looks down and groans when he sees blood. His mum is going to kill him.

"Gonna cry, Polkiss?" Gordon asks with a sneer. "Look at the little baby!"

Some kids have gathered to see what all the fuss is about. At Gordon's taunting, they laugh. Piers' cheeks burn with embarrassment and something else. Something darker. Something that's been building and building since the first moment Gordon started bullying him.

Piers doesn't even think about it. Fingers curling into his palms, he jumps up, swinging his fists wildly. In films, fight scenes are always so smooth, almost like a dance. This is nothing like that. Piers doesn't know what he's doing, but it doesn't seem like Gordon does either.

It's a clash of movement and shouting. Knuckles make contact, and bruises begin to form.

And then it's over, and Mrs. Hicks has Piers by the arms while Miss Donner pulls Gordon away. Both teachers scold them and fuss, and Piers feels his stomach go sour as he realizes what he's done.

He's dead when he gets home.

…

His father shows no mercy. By the time it's all over, Piers is bruised (but only in places where people cannot see, because no one can ever know the sort of people the Polkisses really are) and aching and crying.

His parents hadn't cared that he'd just been defending himself. His mother had insisted he'd had it coming for being such a little brat. His father had told him he ought to be ashamed of himself for acting like such an idiot.

All Piers can do is sob into his pillow and be glad they didn't decide to lock him in the closet for the rest of the week.

…

"Oi! You're Piers Polkiss, yeah?" The blond boy looks Piers up and down, lips pursing slightly like he has his doubts. "Bit skinny."

"Yeah. I'm Piers."

The boy grins. "Dudley Dursley," he says, holding out his hand. Piers hesitantly accepts it. "Saw you fight Gordon. Bit of an idiot, isn't he?"

Piers nods. He doesn't know what to say or why Dudley Dursley seems so keen to talk to him, so he just tucks his hands into his pockets and keeps quiet.

"He's not so bad, really," Dudley continues. "Wanna play together at recess?"

Piers waits for the joke. No one ever wants to play with him. Why would they? But Dudley just looks at him with hopeful eyes, like he thinks Piers is the coolest thing ever.

"You… You actually want to be my friend?"

Dudley snorts. "Yeah, stupid. Got a problem with that?"

Piers shakes his head. "No. I'd like that."

Piers still doesn't understand it. He's not special in any way, not the sort of boy people flock to. But Dudley puts an arm around his shoulder, and leads him along, and Piers wonders if this is what it feels like to feel wanted.