Paul, Big, and Small by David Glen Robb

Author:David Glen Robb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shadow Mountain Publishing
Published: 2019-08-06T16:27:03+00:00

My stomach was in knots for the rest of the day. I sent Lily a text asking how she was doing, but she never replied.

Worse, I had to stay after school to get some help with geometry. I hated math, but the real problem was that the halls were extra dangerous after most of the people had left. Without a herd to blend in with, I couldn’t hide as easily.

After leaving my geometry class, I walked through the halls with my spidey senses on full alert. I’d almost made it to the front doors when I saw a red Hawaiian shirt sitting on the steps.

I was about to walk up to Big when I heard some snickering and shushing. My spidey senses started tingling like crazy. I looked up and saw Conor with two other jackals I didn’t recognize on a stair landing fifteen feet above Big’s head. They were shooting spit wads through a straw at Big. I saw a few white specks in Big’s hair where they had already successfully hit their target.

Big was leaning over, looking at something on the ground near his feet. Of course, knowing Big, it could have been anything from a smear of mud to a squashed piece of gum. Whatever it was, Big was oblivious to Conor and his pack. I really needed to teach him a thing or two about evading predators.

I hesitated. Nobody had seen me yet. I could sneak away, and none of them would ever know I’d been there. A few weeks ago, that’s what I would have done without hesitation—but then I’d made friends with Big and Lily. Now things were a lot less black-and-white.

I couldn’t sit there and let Big continue to get hit, but what could I do? If I said something, Conor would turn his attention to me. At the very least, I’d take a few direct hits from some spit wads and who knew what else. It occurred to me that I might even escalate the whole situation.

On the other hand, if I stayed quiet, chances were the jackals would grow bored and leave. Big would have to endure nothing worse than finding a few chunks of paper in his hair and wondering where they came from. That wasn’t so bad, was it? I decided to sneak away.

Then Conor quit shooting spit wads. Instead, he held a 44-ounce soda cup over the edge of the stairs. The other jackals grinned and nodded encouragement.

“Big! Look out!” I yelled and ran toward him. I didn’t know what I was planning to do. Dive in front of him and take the hit? Would that even work with a soda bomb?

I never got a chance to figure it out because I was too late. Before I was halfway there, the cup, which was most definitely full, exploded on Big’s head.

Conor’s loud and unnerving laugh echoed down to us from above. He looked at me, and we made eye contact for a long, weird second. His eyes were blue, intense and unstable.

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