Colin Jacoby did not hear the morning birds chirping.
He did not feel the black fly tickling his arm, or the cool morning breeze
blowing through his wavy, bowl-cut hair.
More importantly, however, is what he did not hear approaching.
A fallen tree branch, just a few feet away, snapped under stalking footsteps.
Colin’s head jerked up. His book slipped from his hands, falling onto the muddy
ground, as the color drained from his face.
There was no escape.
Toady number one blocked him from the right, while toady number two blocked
the left, leaving the head bully blocking the pathway in front.
A sheer granite rock towered behind Colin.
“Hi –hi guys,” he stammered, putting on a fake smile. “I see you’re all camping
here again this summer, too.”
“Lucky us,” snarled the head bully bitterly. “Only thing good about it, is gettin’
to pound on little kids like you.”
Colin could not decide if he should be more upset over the impending
humiliation, or at being called a little kid.
“If you recall,” he began, hoping to distract them, “I believe I am actually older
than the three of you.” He laughed nervously after he had said it.
The head bully was easily a foot tall er and wider than Colin. The bullies face
boiled with rage as he furiously strode toward Colin, pushing him to the muddy
ground.
His two toadies pointed and shrieked with laughter.
Colin, defeated, prepared for whatever was to come next: a mouthful of mud, a
wedgie, or maybe this time, a black eye.
Then he saw it!
The thing Colin Jacoby dreaded the most.
The silhouette of a girl dressed in black.
“Not her too!” he uttered, letting his face fall into the mud.
The girl’s voice rang out tauntingly.
“I thought I made it clear that only I get to bully my little brother?” She stood
atop a nearby tree stump, her flame-red hair blowing in the breeze.
The head bully jumped back, startled, dropping his smug grin.
