Ashland elementary was once the old city hall of the town, but when they constructed a new building in 1950, they simply converted the older one for the school rather than build a new school. However, the building was showing its age in more ways than one. The town was smaller back in 1950, so that size was perfect to house an elementary, but now the town was outgrowing the Victorian structure, but the town didn't see the need to raise taxes to build a secondary school. Despite the size of the school, it had its' own charm about it; perhaps that's why no one wanted to demolish the old thing.

Kids were pouring into the building as the buses and parents dropped them off; having a hard time pulling away from the building because of the congestion of cars and kids weaving in-between them. Driving in these conditions is stressful in itself, but when you throw in a old lady with a lead foot who's driving capabilities were spastic at best...then you're in for one dashboard-gripping ride. Wybie's grandmother darted between cars and past people without hardly slowing down, then came to a dead stop as the breaks squealed in front of the school. She put the car into park and turned to face her grandson, who's hands were clawing the dashboard and his teeth beared and clenched tightly together and eyes as large as dinner plates.

"Now don't act like you're going to die Wyborn," she said with a small glare, "you only have two weeks left of school."

"Y-Yeah." He said glancing over at his grandma and lowering his hand to nervously rub together. He reached for the car door handle and opened the door and was about to step out when his grandma said:

"Aren't you goin' to kiss your grandma goodbye?" He paused, not that he didn't want to kiss his grandma goodbye, he just didn't want to do it out in public with everyone staring. He rubbed his hands again and swallowed hard, but turned around and quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek and mumbled quietly and quickly:

"Kay-I-love-you-bye." and jumped out of the car and closed the door and quickly walked toward the school. She shook her head, and put the car in drive and stepped on the gas...at least she thought it was drive; she nearly backed into a school bus before catching herself, then putting it in drive did she finally leave.

Wybie glanced over his shoulder to see if his grandma was still there, then he sighed out thinking that maybe...

"Hey Wyyyybooorn," called out an irritating voice; he turned to see that it was Jonas Dillen, "can I have a kiss too?" he smirked and walked away from Wybie. Jonas Dillen was the only one who would actually pick on Wybie, even if it meant going out of his way to do so. Blushing from the fact that someone did see him kissing his grandma, he quickly shoved it out of his mind and reached into his pockets. His grandma would have had a fit if she knew that he would always were his trademark gloves to school, but he felt naked enough without his jacket. He put on his gloves and with a bit of renewed confidence, headed for class.

Every year, the last 2 weeks of school are usually pointless for the majority of students, and for teachers. The teachers would give out easy homework assignments that would be easy to grade, just so that they could keep the kids busy and the kids were more or less just required to show up. For the kids who were failing, however, the last two weeks are crunch time, working their butts off trying to get make-up assignments done so that they would not experience the horrors of horrors: being held back. Each class was just about the same: the teacher would either give an easy assignment that was expected to be turned in by the end of class, pop in a movie for the kids to watch or just talk about what to expect the next school year. Wybies' class was in the middle of the latter.

"Next year" said the teacher with his hands on his hips, "will be your last year in elementary school. Now I know that may not seem like much now, but when you do go into middle school...." Wybie tuned out the teacher, he could catch the speech next year or later on that day...or week for that mater. Wybie was in the middle of going over his notes that he had taken on his last exploration through the woods, comparing them to what he had found the previous year to see if there were any subtle changes. After a while he put his notes away and took out a blank piece of paper and started to draw. He started to draw different variations of his bike on how he was going to paint it, or where he was going to mount the motor on it.

As he was doing this, he could feel paper wads and little paper footballs being flicked at the back of his head. He sighed and tried to continue on his sketches, having Jonas sitting right behind him really sucked.

"Yes....Wybie," said the teacher, Wybie looked up quickly at the teacher, "can you tell us the answer?" Wybie chocked, and quickly looked a the clock, a full half-hour had passed and he had missed half the lesson. To make things worse, the teacher asked him for the answer. His eyes darted to the whiteboard and looked at the math problem...oh, good...it was an easy one.

"X=3.25." He said quickly and looked back down at his drawings.

"....Yes, it is." said the teacher slowly, looking hard at Wybie; then continuing the discussion. Soon enough the bell rang and everyone started to gather up their stuff and head out of class. Wybie packed his things in his backpack and was on his way out of the class when the teacher called to him.

"Wybie, a moment please."

'Oh crap,' thought Wybie, 'I've been busted for not paying attention.' Frowning and slouching further down while clasping his hands together, he turned around and walked up to the teachers' desk. Mr. Anderson looked at Wybie with full sincerity and asked:

"How did you solve that math problem earlier today, Wybie?" Wybies' hands fretted all the more and his trade mark stutter returned.

"I-In...m-my he-head." he said quietly. Mr. Anderson had left the problem on the white board just for this. He picked up the red marker and handed it to Wybie.

"Show me." he said inquisitively. All the more nervous, he took the marker and looked at the problem on the board:

1/2x + 1/3 = 5/6x - 3/4

It wasn't that hard of a question to him, but he did as the teacher told him to do and showed his steps that he did in his head. As he wrote down the steps Mr. Anderson didn't say one word and once Wybie put down the pen and took a step back, Mr. Anderson looked at him and said:

"Wybie, do you know that this is an algebra question that you haven't been taught yet?"

"Y-Yes," he stammered, "b-bec-cause you w-were teaching..."

"I wasn't teaching it," said Mr. Anderson, "I was showing you what you would be doing in the next few years." Wybie knew he had been caught not paying attention in class now, he slouched even further (if it was possible) and tried his best to apologize.

"I-I'm-m-m s-sorry for n-not paying attention." he said as he looked away from the teacher. Mr. Anderson bent down and said:

"No, I'm the one who should apologize to you. I now know why you never really listened to me in class, because you already knew it." Wybie looked at the him then had to turn away while backing up; hands nervously clasping each other all the while.

"Look," said Mr. Anderson while pulling out a paper and then stuffing it into an envelope, "I wrote this while everyone worked on the assignment I gave out today, I want you to give this to your grandma. You're not in trouble," he said seeing how freaked out the boy was, "I just want to talk to her, that's all." Wybie frowned again and sadly took the letter and placed it in his backpack, thanked Mr. Anderson and turned to leave the classroom. Wybie sadly put his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet as he walked out the door, things couldn't get worse today for him.

"Way to make us all look stupid Wyborn," said Jonas shoving him hard with a smirk, "see you in gym." Wybie groaned, things just got worse. It's not that he hated gym for the physical aspect. Actually he liked gym, especially running around on the indoor track, it reminded him of running around the woods, but not as much fun. He also liked playing dodge ball and basketball, but what he didn't like was the locker rooms.

In the boys locker room, everyone was changing into their gym clothes and the typical jokes and conversations were going on. One boy took the liberty of wetting a towel and rolling it up and whipping it at people, which of course resulted in a swirly for him. Other boys were talking about what they were going to do in the summer time and who was going to go where and other random conversations that mingled and merged together. The only one who wasn't talking was Wybie, he was too busy looking around to see if anyone was watching.

He use to take his gym clothes into one of the bathroom stalls and change in there, but ever since the day he dropped his pants into the toilet bowl, he stopped doing that. He nervously looked around, seeing if anyone was staring at him, but everyone was too busy with their own things to pay any attention to him. He reluctantly opened his locker and took out his shirt and placed it on the bench and after glancing around one more time, started to lift off his shirt.

"Hey WyyyBooorrrn." said Jonas popping up from the side. Startled, Wybie quickly let go of his shirt and backed away from Jonas while clasping his hands and looking away quickly.

"Ah," said Jonas walking up to him, "and here I thought you were going put on a show for us. Come on, let's see it," he said grabbing his shirt and trying to lift it off of him, "let's see your trademark."

"Cut it out Jonas." said on of the boys. Most of the boys in the locker room had stopped talking to each other at this point to watch. The other boys had gotten over the fact that Wybie had a hunchback clear back in kindergarten; Jonas was the only one who would still tease him. However, they didn't try to stop him from teasing him, they more or less just wanted to watch the show.

"Why should I," said Jonas grabbing Wybies' shirt again, "I'm just joking."

Wybie had put up with this everyday for years, and every day he would shrug it off and continue on, but today instead of reluctantly backing down, anger started to boil inside of him. Without thinking he shoved Jonas away before realizing it and when he did, the slouched again and started to mumble a apology, but it was too late. Jonas lunged forward, grabbing Wybies' shirt and hair at the same time while ramming him into the lockers and picking him up slightly.

"Oh, so you think you're tough huh," said Jonas letting go of his hair and grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, "you wana fight or somethin' freak?" Wybie tried his best not to whimper, but one escaped his lips anyway. He closed his eyes, waiting for the blows, when:

"Enough," yelled out the coach, making the locker room quiet enough to hear the showers dripping, "let him go Dillen." The coach marched over to the two boys and yanked Jonas off of Wybie and looked hard at him.

"You're done," he said pointing to the door and to the assistant coach, "go with Miss Smith to the principles' office, now." Jonas more or less shrugged and started to the door giving Wybie one last glance that said, 'You're mine' and then left the locker room. The other boys at this point had gotten ready and the coach told them to go out and start stretching. All the boys ran out and the only ones left in the room were the coach and Wybie. Wybie more or less had stayed where he had fallen down and sat there, confused. The coach walked up to him and kneeled down and looked at him with concern.

"Are you alright, Wybie?" Wybie looked up at the coach and started to his feet, legs shaking all the while.

"Y-Yes," he said trying to straiten his shirt, "j-just messing a-around."

"Look, Wybie," said the coach, "if you don't want to do gym today, I won't say anything and you can do a packet to make up for it, if you'd like."

".....I think th-that I'd like that." he said, relaxing slightly. The coach nodded and went to his office and grabbed a work packet for him to work on. After 15 minutes, the packet was completed and Wybie had the rest of the period to think about what happened. Not with Jonas, but what had happened with him. He had not felt like that ever, and it sort of felt good...to push him back, but it was wrong and he knew it. He pushed the idea out of his mind and decided to continue his drawings of his soon-to-be bike and then try to figure out what else he should get for it.

All he knew for sure, was that Jonas was now determined to fight him, and Wybie tired his best to avoid him. Wybie constantly looked over his shoulders while waiting for his grandma to pick him up, to see if Jonas was approaching him. Suddenly, he could hear breaks squealing and the motor rattling. His grandma pulled up quickly almost rear-ending the car ahead of her. Wybie ran up to the car and slammed the door shut and slumped into the seat while glancing out the window. This odd behavior, even for him, had not gone unnoticed by his grandmother and as they were driving she asked:

"Is everything alright Wyborn?"

Wybie didn't say anything, not really wanting to talk about it. She looked down at her grandson and knew exactly what to do. Instead of heading for home, she took a sharp U turn back towards town and drove right to the local malt shop. Wybie knew what she was doing too, and was going to do his best not to give in, but in his heart, he knew he would falter in the end. She ordered his favorite: a chocolate malt with whipped cream and almonds and a cherry on top. She ordered herself a soft served vanilla ice cream cone and then they drove to the town park and parked underneath an old oak tree and ate their treats in silence. He knew that they only did this whenever she wanted him to open up and talk to her, and he wasn't going to, not this time.

"Now," she said gently after eating her cone, "are you goin' to tell me what's bothering my little man?" He tried not to look up at her, rather swirl the straw in the malt, but her soft wrinkled hand reached over and gently took up his chin and moved his face slowly so that he looked into her wrinkled smiling face; that's all it took to open him up like a book.

"T-There's this boy in school," he said setting aside his malt and clasping his hands together in his usual manner, "you know Jonas Dillan?" She nodded, not wanting to interrupt him.

"Well," he said rubbing his arm nervously, "I---I think he want's to fight me, but I don't want to fight him....well....I-I don't know. He's been pushing me and pushing me to fight him all year, now that I think about it, and...grandma," he said looking up at her sadly, "I don't want to fight him, but at the same time I think I do want to fight him. I-I'm...." he said balling-up his fists, but then sighed and slumped back into the chair. She knew how much trouble he had been having with that other boy, and she knew that one day things would eventually boil over, but she remained quiet, letting him vent his frustration.

"I-I don't know what to do," he said looking at the dashboard, "I don't want to fight him because it's wrong to do so and then every day I have to put up with the same crap from him and every day I just get more and more frustrated and....and then on the other hand, maybe if I did...ah, I d-don't kn-know." he said running his hands through his hair, only to get them slightly tangled within for a moment. There was an uneasy pause, but she kept silent, waiting for him to react.

"Grandma," he finally said looking up to her, "I don't know what to do. If I go to the principal, I'll be even more....well," he said looking away, not wanting to go into that, "but if I do fight him....what should I do?"

That's what she had been waiting for.

"You listen to me, Wyborn," she said sternly, "no matter what, you never—never raise your fists to that boy. No matter how hard he dogs you or harasses you, you don't ever throw the first punch. Understand?" He nodded, thinking that's what she would say.

"However," she said still in the serious tone, "if he ever hits you...you beat the living stuffin' out of that boy." He looked up at his grandma, completely shocked.

"I mean it," she said sternly, "you never hit him first, but if he ever hits you, then you fight back Wyborn." And that's all she said about it. He looked up at the sweet old lady who had practically raised him, a little old lady who looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly, tell him to beat the snot out of someone if they ever hit him first. He looked down and thought about it, not really wanting to do that, but he figured if he lasted the last two weeks without and confrontation then things should work out ok.

She started the car back up and started for home. Wybie looked out the window and realized that grandma was right, it was going to rain today, as it had been raining all that time while they talked in the car. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to work on his bike or go exploring that day, he tried to think of things to do in the house while watching rain drops on the windshield race each other down it and eventually merging with each other at the bottom.

Ok, I cut this chapter in half...it was getting long. Thanks for reading!