Metallseele
Chapter 3: Five with Seven year olds
"Madame Crawford," an old woman in her fifties tenderly got hold of an elbow of Brad's mother and steered her onto a corner, while the wee child was sitting on a plush chair, arms neatly folded on his lap, giving him the look that separates him from the other children.
"Madame, your child is wonderful," the woman said quite breathlessly, her eyes glinting all the while. "We checked his test first, from your request, of course, and Bradley got a perfect score. The test was even not suit for his age, it was the typical test given to those who wanted to go to the first grade of school -"
"That is fantastic!" Courtney cried out, clapping her hands on the news. Earlier, she was feeling a bit sullen about her son's weird intuition about everything, particularly that night after their dinner in the restaurant. Yet now, all she had in mind was her son's brilliant intellect and nothing more. She glanced at Brad's way, smiling radiantly then taking both of the old woman's hands. "And so he could start tomorrow, then?"
"Yes, absolutely. Here're the requirements," the woman handed two pieces of paper with a long list. Courtney mindlessly tucked it in gratefulness in her coat, then bid goodbye to the old woman, lastly taking Brad's little hands.
"We're going shopping, Bradley... You're absolutely going to shine for tomorrow. Aren't you a bit excited?" Courtney's smile was so big like she won the lottery. "It's a real treat for your birthday the day after tomorrow." Opening the car door, Brad was slid inside by her mother, the child still thinking deeply.
Brad waited for his mother to slid in the driver's seat, amber eyes looking impassively at Courtney.
"About your question, Mom, I think I'm not excited," Brad uttered.
Courtney started the engine, still smiling widely, then chuckled gaily, steering the car towards the mall. "You just think you're not, but eventually, you will be. It will be a great thing for you, because, of course! You're only four, and then you're with first grade when, in the first place, you should be in preschool!" Courtney's gray eyes sparkled at Brad's direction, while the child was taking in all the words innocently. "You'll be admired... looked up to... be their inspiration... Oh, I'm so proud of you, Bradley..."
The raven haired child looked outside for a few moments, then said to her mother in a neutral voice, an opinion for his elders, but a conclusion for Brad: "I might not be treated like that at all."
For the second time, his mother let out an amused chuckle.
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"So I heard," Stephen hissed from the entrance of Brad's room, the scornful older brother inclined on the door frame, with one hand on the door handle for balance. The child was changing to his black uniform of his new school with no difficulty, then briefly glancing at Stephen before continuing with dressing.
Stephen, already in their navy blue uniform sighed then sat on the chair parallel to the bed, watching Brad's minute movements. "You're the pride of the family, Bradley," The frizzy-haired boy spat, emphasizing the word 'pride' largely.
Brad, already dressed in the little black jacket and baby-colored yellow ribbon, turned and looked at his brother, his face a grimace of somewhat an expression of puzzlement. "I don't quite understand."
"And I thought you were intelligent! Oh my God. Okay, nevermind that now. Mom mandated me to walk you to school, as my school is just a few turns from yours."
"Thanks for agreeing. I would have a pretty hard time dodging buses and cars if I were alone," Brad replied silently, the tone of being naive prominent in his little voice. The child slung the backpack on his small shoulders, then walked to the door, where Stephen was looking amusedly down at his little brother.
"You know," Stephen said, part wondering. "For a four year old, you sound different. Weird." With that, Stephen ran down the stairs to the kitchen, followed by the small steps of his brother Brad. As expected, their father was already there, coffee steaming hot and the usual newspaper covering his whole upper body.
"Good morning," both said simultaneously, heading to their positions in the kitchen table.
Stephen was halfway to getting his cereal when a certain thought occurred in his mind. "Where's Mom?" Stephen blurted out, then regretted the question when the newspaper stirred a bit, and apparently, their Dad didn't like the interrogation at all. Stephen looked down, then nervously brushed his frizzy locks back from his forehead.
"Yes Dad, where is she?" Brad echoed silently, already pouring his milk on the cereal. With the little child's voice, Alan put down his paper and looked at the child with softened eyes.
"Well, I guess she departed quite early today. Probably eager to get out from work, for, of course, your birthday, Brad," Alan smiled, then emptied the coffee mug. Brown eyes glared momentarily at Stephen's direction before Alan stood up. He neatly folded the newspaper, carrying it until he reached the door, then bid goodbye to the both of them.
Stephen finished his breakfast, hastily putting the bowl on the sink, all the while yelling for the maid. He was entirely glad that the tension was over, it was extremely uncomfortable being in that position. He grimaced. "Hey, Bradley, we've got to go. Or we're going to be late. You don't want to be the smartest late-comer, do you? Or do you want to be trashed by those nasty -"
He was cut off by Brad's voice coming from his back, startling him quite a bit. "We're already late, come on," Brad pushed his older brother towards the door, little hands flat on Stephen's back.
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The walk towards school wasn't very pleasant for Stephen had too much to say about Brad's performance in the test, and in school. All Brad heard from his brother was, 'weird' 'unexpected' and so much doubting statements. The child mistook his brother's intentions, and thought Stephen was praising him. And so the older brother took off with mild annoyance, upon reaching Brad's destination.
Bradley's trip inside the school wasn't all too nice; the guard has to get the principal to prove Brad's really going to the first grade. Brad was very patient, until they got to the classroom, where he started to feel... different.
It was different in the sense that he haven't experienced something like it in his whole life. Something unexpected from a person like Brad, whose indifference over certain matters can rule over curiosity just for the reason that he already know. But the feeling he's experiencing was alien to him.
"Class, you have a new classmate. Come on, introduce yourself," a redheaded woman with big, circular glasses, who introduced herself as Mrs. Russ coaxed Brad in front, with the curious gazes of his supposed classmates.
Brad was almost shoved to the front of the class, and instantly felt his heart thumping inside his chest, which is the first time he'd felt in his four years. All the stares were on him, others smirking dangerously, others staring unbelievably, others calm and the few looking somewhere else, daydreaming.
"Introduce yourself," the sharp voice of Mrs. Russ just gave an intense punch on Brad's heartbeat.
Erasing his nervousness, Brad scanned the room in an interested way, then said in his silent voice: "I'm Bradley Crawford. I hope to know you on the following days."
Someone in the back raised a hand, swaying for attention.
"Yes, Mark?" Mrs. Russ asked the student.
"Bwad, how old are you?"
The students stirred in giggles and whispers. Brad raised an eyebrow, thinking that the source of their excitement wasn't that amusing or entertaining. Sure, he was four, and they were seven, so what's so hilarious about that?
"I am four, turning five tomorrow," Bradley told the student simply, and then his heartbeat returned to the painful thumpings once again.
"Mrs. Russ! He's young to be here!" protested a boy, followed by its echoes of protests. Brad's heartbeat hurts him now, but his face remained the same: innocence tainted by confusion.
"Settle down, children! Calm down, now," when the teacher's voice didn't work, she gripped a stick and slammed it repeatedly on the desk until the students calmed down, while Brad winced at the noise it brought. Mrs. Russ placed a hand on Brad's shoulder gently.
"Sit beside Charles, on that vacant seat beside the window. If you need something, or you have a question to ask, then approach me. Okay?"
"Yes. Thank you," Brad returned the tight-lipped smile to the woman and proceeded to the seat beside the massive boy smirking at him, then to the other large boys behind him.
"Hey did your Dad have money to put you in first grade?" a murmured question was heard from Brad's back. Then a silent snicker.
A big hand landed on Brad's table, causing amber eyes to look up at the cold blue ones belonging to the hulking boy. "Bradley, you're into so much fun. Promise you!"
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Bradley wasn't even surprised to the kids who bullied him wherever he went. His appearance was worth taunting, for he was only a kid, height dramatically inferior to his classmates, plus his mere presence an insult to their intellectual status.
It was also a slight torture to introduce himself in front of the class each period, with the immediate loathing and shock shown in each student's face. Brad took it all in a positive way, and tried to forget it as soon as the class started.
He wasn't even affected when no one came to befriend him, he had expected that, even the girls he saw which left an impression to Brad as the goody-two-shoes kind had nothing to say to him. In a strange world like this, no one must expect the best treatment, for, evidently, Brad was painfully out of place, let alone his intelligence.
Few mentors held their admiration towards the boy, but everyone else was either uncaring or doubting of Brad's position in the first grade. Probably the only class which gave Brad a bit of special treatment was Mr. Roencraft, a teacher in Arts.
Brad picked up his backpack, and blended in the crowd of first graders departing from the school. There was no one attempting to talk to him, resulting to his solitude.
Suddenly a large hand came in contact with his right shoulder, steering him forward, almost hitting the wall. Bradley turned to the assailant sharply, hurt printed in his face, much to the amusement of the hulking boy in front of him. Steel blue eyes stared down at him, a hand raised, as if threatening to hit Brad on the face.
"So… so, the new boy!" Brad remembered him called Charles, the one he's beside with in homeroom. He felt his heart beat fast, as more of the bullies came into view.
"Oooo… I guess you're very intelligent, you! But will you know what will come now?" after the other boy's statement, a hand shoved Brad on the side, toppling him to the ground. Brad startingly looked up, eyes wide in surprise. The bullies burst into boisterous laughter, as the small child attempted to get up.
"Why are you doing this? Have I done anything wrong to you?" Brad silently asked, amber eyes anxious. And an alien feeling again surged through him… Fear… Fear towards these people who might give him casualty.
All of a sudden, Bradley wasn't seeing his hulking classmates, instead he was seeing a dark room, and three figures, one small… and raised hands, striking through the air. The child shivered, oblivous of the slaps on his biceps.
"Oh yes, mister!" Charles raised a hand again, then a voice stopped him, making the large boy lower his hand.
"Boys, what are you doing? Aren't you going home yet?" Brad turned to look at the tall man with auburn hair and dark eyes.
"Mr. Roencraft!" Charles exclaimed, then gulped. "Yeah, we're going home. Goodbye, teacher!" he said to the mentor, then to Brad: "Goodbye… some other time, okay?" then they walked out of the school with suppressed snickers and laughter.
This time, Brad got up, brushing his knees and gathering his backpack. His raven hair was a bit unruly from the bullying, but he ignored it and instead went to the mentor, who was already smiling.
"Are you okay, Bradley?" Mr. Roencraft asked, smiling down at him. Bradley nodded promptly, not daring to say another word about the boys. He wouldn't want to get them in trouble, they might go after him.
A black Jaguar sped towards the entrance of the school, and Alan Crawford stepped out of the car, beckoning Brad to go in the car at once.
"Thank you, Mr. Roencraft, goodbye," Brad said, and walked to his father, and slid on the passenger's seat.
His father was beaming while driving the car. "So, how was your first day in the first grade?"
Brad contemplated on his answer. It would be bad to lie, but it would be a bad thing also if his father knew about what happened. "It was uncomfortable," he said instead, lowering his amber eyes.
"It is at first, Bradley. You will soon enjoy it, believe me," the car stopped in front of Stephen's school, and the frizzy-haired boy got into the back seat at once, wiping sweats off his brow, then lighting up when he saw Brad.
"So how was school, Bradley?" Stephen tried hard not to sound mocking. And was successful for his father hadn't uttered a single word.
Brad sighed, clasping his hand rather tight on his lap. It was getting pretty hard to let the truth slip, so he just said: "Nice, Stephen."
And his vision became black as the replay of the earlier image came. This time it was so vivid that he swayed on his seat… Silhouettes three big boys holding rulers and pencil cases, and a crouched body looking up innocently with big, caramel eyes…
Bradley gasped.
What was… that?
TBC.