For a Brother

It had been almost a year since their mother's death. Scott had hoped that as time passed it would be easier, but his heart still got tight when he thought about her—and he thought about her often. More often than what he cared for. Not that he didn't want to remember his mom, but the thoughts would jump out at him at the worst possible times. Just like now.

He wasn't even doing anything. Just waiting outside of the school for his brothers. The problem was, he just realized that he was standing in the same spot their mother would stand when she would wait on them. It had been almost a year, yet he could still see her clearly—her warm smile and how she would push off the wall and squat down so that she could catch them all in a hug.

Scott took a sudden deep breath and shook the memory away. Let that thing run out and he'd be crying. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked over to one of the trees that dotted the front lawn of their elementary school.

There weren't many kids left on the lawn; the busses were still idling along the street, but they were preparing to pull away. Scott looked around again. John and Virgil should have been there by now.

Scott was in fifth grade and was in a different part of the school than the other two, who were in third and first. It had been Scott's job to make sure John made it to their rendezvous point, but last year, their mother had decided that with Virgil now in school John needed some more responsibility, so it was John's job to collect Virgil from his room and bring him out to the front where Scott waited. They would then wait for the busses to leave, and their grandmother to arrive and pick them up.

But they still weren't there.

"Did you hear? Mannie and Derick got a couple of kids out by the janitor's shed."

"Again? Man, when are they ever going to stop?"

"As long as no one stands up to them, they probably won't."

"Even if someone does, they probably wouldn't survive." The voices laughed as they faded into the distance.

Scott pushed himself off of the tree and watched the two kids. They were sixth graders, classmates of Mannie and Derick—two of the biggest bullies in the school. No one messed with those two. Everyone knew what they did, even the teachers. They had been punished time and again for picking on—well, everyone. The problem was, their parents didn't care, and the school could never get proof—their victims were too afraid to tattle on them. Even Scott had been on the wrong side of the pair—spent a month giving them money, only stopped when a new transfer student showed up.

Scott frowned. It was possible that John got sidetracked in the library, or that Virgil wanted to stop by the music room and play on the piano a bit. Scott didn't want to take that chance, though, so he made his way around to the back of the building and to the janitor's shed.

"I heard you said I was an idiot, you little punk."

John was shoved up against the rough bricks behind him. His backpack had already been pulled from his grasp and thrown to the ground. He was scared, but he didn't want to show it, not with Virgil being held like a sack of potatoes by the other bully.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you."

"Well, is that what you said?"

"Actually, I said you were a lumbering oaf." It wasn't the smartest thing to say, but John hated it when people misquoted him.

"Leave my brother alone!" Virgil, meanwhile, was struggling against the other bully, his arms and legs flailing in the air as his captor just laughed.

"Best be careful, twerp, or I might hurt those hands of yours. Then you wouldn't be able to play your precious piano."

Virgil clenched his hands into fists and glared at the boy holding him.

"Why don't you let him go? I'm the one that called you an oaf." John's head was stinging a bit from the impact with the wall.

"Why would he do that? I got you, so he's got to have someone to play with as well."

John frowned. These boys were a lot older than him—a whole three years, which mathematically wasn't a lot, but from where John stood seemed like three times a hundred. They were taller than him, and wider as well. He had heard of them, hence the comment, but he didn't think that offhanded remark would make it all the way to the sixth grade.

The bully grabbed the front of John's shirt again and picked him up, slamming him against the wall again. "You better listen closely, because I'm going to tell you how this is going to work. From here on, you are going to give me whatever money you have on you each morning. I know you lot are rich, everyone knows. And don't you go 'forgetting' it either. Each day you don't bring your dues, your little brother will get a damaged finger, if you get what I mean." He laughed and flung his head back.

John frowned deeper and tried to wipe the spittle that had landed on his face on his shoulder. His feet were dangling in the air, and he couldn't take in a proper breath of air because of the pressure on his chest holding him to the wall.

"Do we have a—" The bully didn't get to finish his sentence. Something came from the side and ran him over.

"Take your hands off my brother!" Scott was on top of him, one hand in his shirt, the other pointing at him in warning.

"Or what?" The bully laughed in Scott's face.

Scott paused—he hadn't thought of an answer to that, but a glance back at John wheezing on the ground was enough of a reason not to think. He tucked his fingers back into a fist and let it go.

He wasn't paying attention to where his punch landed, hadn't ever learned how to punch in the first place, he just tried to hit him as hard as he could. He got three good punches in when he was pulled from his victim by the other bully.

The second bully had Scott's arms locked in his own and would have pulled him off of his feet if Scott hadn't been the same height as the two sixth graders. He did get a good look at his damage—not much, unfortunately: a busted lip was the only blood he got.

"You are going to pay dearly for that."

The first bully grabbed him by the shirt and pulled his fist back, but Scott wasn't about to back down yet. In one quick motion, he brought his knee up and slammed it right in the bully's crotch. He went down hard.

The second bully didn't back down, didn't run to his friend. No, he swung Scott around so that his face met with the bully's fist. Scott was down on his back before he had realized what had happened, the bully on top of him, his knee on his chest. His hand was raised ready to hit again when he was knocked over by the gangly redhead they had forgotten about.

"F'in—" He was already on his knees, John's shirt in his fist.

"Freeze!"

They all looked up. Three men were running in their direction—one of the first grade teachers, the vice principle, and the music teacher. "You finish that, and I assure you, you will regret it."

They reached the group slightly out of breath but didn't pause, and the two teachers reached down and hulled the two bullies to their feet and marched them off.

Scott reached over, tugged on John's shirt, and pulled him into a hug. "Are you okay?" His voice was thick and muffled. He couldn't breathe, and he could feel the hotness of the blood as it ran down the back of his throat. John didn't reply, but sniffed and nodded his head as he buried it in Scott's own sore chest.

"Look up, let me see the damage." The vice principal was kneeling down before them and gently took Scott's chin in his fingers. "Broken nose more than likely. Can you stand?"

"Yea. Come on, John." They both stood as the vice principal gathered the three bags that lay on the ground around them.

"Virgil!" John gasped.

"He's fine. Waiting on you in the office."

John sighed and sagged a little next to Scott, who wished he was just a little bigger and could still carry him like he used to.

Their grandmother was waiting on them when they got to the office and dropped to her knees, Scott's face in her hands when she saw him. "Scott Carpenter Tracy! What in the world where you thinking!"

"They were going to hurt John and Virgil."

"No they weren't." John sniffed a little, trying to sound just as grown up as his brother.

"Like hell they weren't."

"Scott!" Their grandmother's eyes widened, and Scott was wise enough to look abashed at his words.

"Sorry."

"Come along, all three of you. Looks like we'll have to stop by the ER on the way home." She gracefully took the three bags and herded them towards the door.

The vice principal cleared his throat to get her attention. "I will be calling their father."

"Of course. I'll give him a heads up to expect your call." She nodded politely at the man as they left.

They had spent almost three hours in the ER getting Scott and John looked at. Scott had to get his nose set, and they both had chest x-rays once their grandmother finally got the whole story out of them—she didn't want to chance any cracked or broken ribs; too easily could that lead to pneumonia in young ones.

When they finally got home, it was past dinner time. Gordon was running around the living room, closely followed by Alan, and their father was in his office.

"I am so sorry, Marilynn!" Grandma Tracy was grasping the young girl's hand in hers, a fifty dollar bill tucked inside. "I never dreamed it would take that long to get these two looked at."

"It's no problem, Ms. Tracy. I'm just glad to see they're okay." She smiled at them all. She was from the farm down the road—newly graduated from high school with no idea what she wanted to do, and was always willing to help look after the boys when asked. "I went ahead and put the casserole in the oven and fed these two wild things. Mr. Tracy hasn't eaten yet, said he'd wait on y'all."

"You didn't have to go to all that trouble."

"Nah, it was my pleasure." She smiled and turned to the two youngest. "Now you two behave yourselves, ya hear."

"Yes, Mari!" The two didn't stop as they zoomed around the furniture.

"Mom? Is that you?"

"Yes, dear, we're home."

Jeff was in the doorway in an instant, looking over the lot of them, and let out a breath he had been holding when he could see for himself they were all there and safe. "Scott. My office."

"Yes, sir." Scott sighed; he knew this would be coming, but that didn't make it any easier. "Virgil, you need to stay behind." Virgil had been clinging to Scott ever since they had met back up with him in the office and still would not let go.

"Come along, Virgil. Scott needs to talk to your father." Grandma Tracy reached down to pry Virgil's hands off Scott's shirt, but Virgil just moved to the other side and shook his head.

"It's okay, Mom. He can come."

Scott and Virgil made their way into their father's office and sat down in the lone chair, Virgil curled up on Scott's lap.

His father scrutinized his appearance—his shirt rumpled with blood stains down the front from his nose and his eyes already black behind the white bandage. "Your grandmother already told me what you told her, and I've already talked to the vice principal. Do you have anything else to add?"

"No, sir." Scott didn't look at him, but squeezed Virgil a little bit for comfort. Virgil said nothing, but snuggled as close as he could to his brother.

"I know you did this to protect your brothers, and I'm thankful you would go to such lengths for them. However, I do not approve of violence."

"I know, I just—" Scott voice was muffled, his nose still swollen. "I didn't know what else to do."

"That's where we need to work, then." He wove his fingers together and leaned his chin on them. "When you are faced with a situation, fight the urge to jump to violence. It will solve nothing. You must find the peaceful means to end a situation. Only then can things truly be fixed."

"But those bullies, they only know violence."

"Because that's the only way people have dealt with them. They don't know any better."

"So what am I supposed to do? This won't be the last time I have to deal with them."

"Find the peaceful means. It's there."

"I'll help, Scooter." Virgil reached up and wrapped his arms around Scott's neck. "I don't like it when you fight."

"I'm sorry, bub." Scott squeezed him back.

It was a week later before they saw the bullies again. Behind the school, Scott and his brothers waited. He had gotten a letter in his locker stating the appointment that morning. Students all over the school were talking about it; even Scott's teacher pulled him off to the side to make sure there wouldn't be a problem.

Scott reassured him, but he didn't know what would happen. He tried to think of an answer all day, tried to think of the peaceful means his father spoke of. However, he now stood before them, John and Virgil at his side, and no answer in sight.

"I like the look." Derick smirked as he elbowed Mannie beside him.

"I don't know, I think it looked better when it was crooked and bloody."

"Why did you call me here?" Scott was grinding his teeth.

"Because we have something to finish, and if you don't, we'll come after your brothers."

"Don't want that, do you?" Mannie cracked his knuckles and leered at John.

Scott clenched his fist. How could he find a peaceful solution when dealing with people like this? They only knew violence, and the only way to stop them was with violence.

Virgil pulled on Scott's taut arm and looked up at him. "No, Scooter."

Scott took a deep breath and relaxed. He realized suddenly maybe what his father was talking about. People say to fight fire with fire, but that just causes more destruction. You fight fire with water. He just wasn't quite sure what kind of water to use.

"No, I don't want you to hurt my brothers. However, I don't want to hurt you either."

"What?" They laughed, but their brows were drawn together as they glanced at each other.

"You are both really intelligent. You have some of the best grades in your class. You could be anything, and I don't want to stop you."

"You think you could stop us?" Derick laughed out loud.

"Physically, probably not. I don't really know how to fight." Scott shrugged. "I'm not that great of a negotiator either."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

"You do nothing, and we'll come after your brother's. It's as simple as that."

"You come after my brothers, and I will protect them."

"And how will you do that if you don't fight?"

"I'll find a way. I'm not sure what it is right now, but I will."

"Yeah, we'll see. Just watch your back, Tracy. Next time it'll be more than your nose."

Scott nodded his head and shrugged. He turned, took Virgil's hand in his, and led his brothers away.

The two bullies never bothered them again for some reason, Scott never found out why, never really cared. All he was worried about was his brothers' safety. If anyone ever bothered them, he wasn't sure if he could follow through with his father's advice, but he would try. And if for some reason he couldn't, if anger and violence was the only thing he could think of, he always had Virgil.

They had lost contact with Gordon a while ago, and no one was picking up at the excavation site. He and Virgil had landed, and Scott made his way to the site's leader—he would know what was going on. Only he had left them to die, more concerned with the pyramid's treasure than the lives inside of it. His brother was there, and his friends. He could not forgive this guy, could not see a peaceful means for showing his anger, and raised his fist to show him the other way.

But Virgil was there once again, as he always was. There to pull him back, to make him see sense. They could still save them. That was what they had to do, save and protect, not harm. That was the way they did things. That had been what their father had taught him all those years ago.