Beginnings by J.S. Frankel

Author:J.S. Frankel [Frankel, J.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YA Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Published: 2016-02-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The Awful Truth

Dreams were never about the real thing. They were only what you wished them to be. That was something Paul had read in a book long ago.

Reality decided to intrude and the events of his life rushed back in a series of kaleidoscopic images. The first days of St. Joe’s, listening to the drone of the teachers and enduring a rain of spitballs from the other jerks in the classroom. The teachers who’d ignored his pleas for a little fairness, they were there, too.

Of course, there had been the rotten food, barely edible. He’d learned to wolf it down and nod his head as if it were the most nourishing swill ever. He hadn’t been able to wait to leave the lunch table in order to toss it up.

Finally, there had been the punch-ups before or after class. Usually bloody one-sided affairs, the teachers—with the exception of Max—had never seemed to notice Paul’s bruises and cuts. No one had professed to having seen a thing. What happened in St. Joe’s had stayed there. As far as Paul was concerned, if there was a hell, he had a list of prime candidates on the A-train going straight down.

“Fight me,” one of the kids had said during recess. Twelve at the time, this kid, large, fat and redheaded, had been taunting him from day one. Paul had already gotten beaten up more times than he could count and of course, no one had ever stood by him. Why should they, when the entertainment was free and on a daily basis?

Laughing and hooting, the other kids had crowded around and formed a circle. The kid who’d made the challenge was a lot bigger and tougher. Once again, Paul had known he was out of his league. All he’d wanted to do was to read his book and not be bothered, but it seemed that life wasn’t going to go his way—again.

The redheaded kid had smacked him in the face. Paul had leapt up, taken out the bar of soap from his pants that he’d hidden in a sock and had whipped it around in a sharp, snapping motion. It’d caught the kid on his jaw and put him down. “Leave me alone. Why don’t you leave me alone?” Paul had cried, and jumped on the other kid, pummeling him.

“Holy crap,” one of the onlookers had whispered.

Soon, a cheer had started, and perhaps the home team would actually have gotten a victory for once. Unfortunately, the shouts had brought the teachers out. They’d broken up the fight, and he’d gotten sent to detention.

Bad luck sucked. Even when he’d won, he’d lost, and two days later, retribution had come from the fat kid’s friends who’d proceeded to trap Paul in a locker room and had beat him black and blue. He’d known better than to complain. No one would have listened to the king outcast of all the orphans.

When they’d gotten done, he’d staggered out of the room and made his way back to his room, blood streaming from a torn lip and numerous cuts to his face.

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