3:
It was lunchtime next. The food, served by a young nun named Sister Clara, was pretty bland but it was food. The other boys scarfed down their baloney sandwiches on white bread, their little bowls of grapes, and their soup (Just beef broth actually). To make mine taste better, I began to tear up little pieces of my sandwich and drop them in the soup. The broth soaked into the bread, making it taste good as I ate.
Harold leaned across the table to see what I had done. "Cool! Hey guys check it out!" Suddenly I was the center of attention as everyone crowded around to look at my soup.
Harold tried it next. Then the kid next to him. Then the kid next to that kid. Soon everyone was doing it. Except one.
He was the only kid who hadn't gotten up to see my concoction. He kept eating his broth the same way. Then he looked up and glared at me.
He must be Vicious, I thought. He looked the same age as me, except he had white hair. White hair? On a thirteen-year-old? Weird. I smirked. I wonder what scared him so bad! He must've seen the smirk, because the glare turned positively icy.
I went back to my lunch. I wasn't about to let him ruin my meal.
After lunch was recess…of sorts. We were required to go into the courtyard and get some exercise. The other boys quickly divided up into teams to play kick-the-can, but I held back. Instead, I stood by the fence with my arms crossed behind my head and watched traffic on the other side.
There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned my head and before I knew what was happening, I had been belted in the face.
Vicious was cracking his knuckles. "Wanna laugh at me again?"
I checked my mouth for blood. There was none. I straightened up and glowered. "I didn't laugh at you!"
"Yes you did!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
The other boys had stopped playing and formed a crowd. Vicious swung at me again. This time I was ready for him and I ducked. His fist flew through the air and he nearly toppled. He turned to take another shot, and I kicked him in the face.
Vicious stumbled backward to the fence, and looked at me stunned. The other guys looked stunned too, but I didn't pay them any attention. Instead I held up my hands, ready to cream him. He lunged and punched me in the stomach. I recovered quickly and got a few hard jabs in before he nailed me with a swing to the jaw.
We continued to duke it out, until out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Mother Superior marching toward us, Sister Clara running behind her, lifting her habit so she wouldn't trip over it.
I turned to look at them and that's when the little punk tackled me. We skidded across the gravel, and when we stopped he hit me in the eye. I sat up and pushed him off and jumped on his chest. I hit him in the face again and again, moving so quickly he couldn't strike back.
Finally, I was out of breath. He was bleeding from the nose and he had a lump on the right side of his forehead. As I panted, the crowd of people gaped at us. Even the two nuns were shocked. Everything was dead silent; only the cars passing on the other side made any noise.
Then there was laughter. Vicious was laughing. And before I knew it, I was laughing too. I slid off his chest onto my knees and he sat up. We had a good long hard laugh.
Finally, he said, "You're all right, Kid! What's your name?" I told him and he grinned. Getting up, we walked through the mob and to the other side of the yard. "You know, Kid, I have a feeling we're going to be good friends…"