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A story about a thirteen year old boy who just wants his life to make sense and break free the bonds of his Christian town and strict mother.
Couldn’t Do It Alone…
Chapter 1: Uncle Rich’s Funeral.
Today was my birthday. It was also the day of my Uncle Rich’s funeral. I hardly knew him. My birthday did not really matter. Despite turning thirteen only happened once and having the pleasure of not wearing a tacky and itchy new suit. My Aunt Gladys had picked it. The moment she saw me within the suit she had tears in her eyes and said I was the splitting image of Uncle Rich. Apparently, it was the same kind of orange plaited suit Uncle Rich used to wear. The moment my Aunt had said that I resembled Uncle Rich in the suit, I had an image of Uncle Rich wearing the same kind of suit in his coffin. I shuddered at the thought, not wanting to resemble a dead person, relative or not.
My mum practically had to drag me on the way to the car to attend the funeral at the town church. I put up a great struggle but eventually gave up. On the way, I kept fiddling with my orange bow tie. The high collar kept on threatening to strangle me and I kept on scratching, which only made the itchiness worse.
“Don’t fiddle with it, Henry,” stated my mother in a disapproving manner as she kept on driving.
Huffing slightly, I crossed my arms in a disgruntled manner and glanced out the window.
(to be continued...)
Couldn’t Do It Alone…
Chapter 1: Uncle Rich’s Funeral.
Today was my birthday. It was also the day of my Uncle Rich’s funeral. I hardly knew him. My birthday did not really matter. Despite turning thirteen only happened once and having the pleasure of not wearing a tacky and itchy new suit. My Aunt Gladys had picked it. The moment she saw me within the suit she had tears in her eyes and said I was the splitting image of Uncle Rich. Apparently, it was the same kind of orange plaited suit Uncle Rich used to wear. The moment my Aunt had said that I resembled Uncle Rich in the suit, I had an image of Uncle Rich wearing the same kind of suit in his coffin. I shuddered at the thought, not wanting to resemble a dead person, relative or not.
My mum practically had to drag me on the way to the car to attend the funeral at the town church. I put up a great struggle but eventually gave up. On the way, I kept fiddling with my orange bow tie. The high collar kept on threatening to strangle me and I kept on scratching, which only made the itchiness worse.
“Don’t fiddle with it, Henry,” stated my mother in a disapproving manner as she kept on driving.
Huffing slightly, I crossed my arms in a disgruntled manner and glanced out the window.
(to be continued...)
71/82
(part 45)
Chapter 5: D.C.S
The car ride was as quiet as the day we drove home from Uncle Rich’s funeral. It seemed like forever, but that was only two days ago.
My mother had not brought up the lighter incident. I felt no need to bring it up either. I just glanced down at my knees, tugging lightly at the corner of my grey shorts leg. I hated sitting in this outfit. It was like getting a wedgie but you were sitting down instead of standing up and the wedgie itself was self-inflicting rather than having somebody pull at your underwear.
The car idled along, a short sputtering coming from the overwrought engine with the metallic clink from the dent almost sounding like flint stones being knocked together.
It was not long until we were passing the suburb neighbourhood. I glanced out the window and had a quick glimpse at the school bus that was awaiting passengers.
I know why I did not get to go on the school bus. Or even why I was not allowed to go on my bicycle to school. My mum said it was not good principle. I did not buy that. I reckoned it was just an excuse so she knew she could keep an eye on me to school. My mother was a bit cautious, but not for my sake. She was just afraid I’d get up to trouble and her status as a Christian would be more tarnished then it already was.
With this sour thought in my head, I felt distant to the rest of the children, at least the ones that were allowed to be able to get to school almost independently.
(to be continued...)
Chapter 5: D.C.S
The car ride was as quiet as the day we drove home from Uncle Rich’s funeral. It seemed like forever, but that was only two days ago.
My mother had not brought up the lighter incident. I felt no need to bring it up either. I just glanced down at my knees, tugging lightly at the corner of my grey shorts leg. I hated sitting in this outfit. It was like getting a wedgie but you were sitting down instead of standing up and the wedgie itself was self-inflicting rather than having somebody pull at your underwear.
The car idled along, a short sputtering coming from the overwrought engine with the metallic clink from the dent almost sounding like flint stones being knocked together.
It was not long until we were passing the suburb neighbourhood. I glanced out the window and had a quick glimpse at the school bus that was awaiting passengers.
I know why I did not get to go on the school bus. Or even why I was not allowed to go on my bicycle to school. My mum said it was not good principle. I did not buy that. I reckoned it was just an excuse so she knew she could keep an eye on me to school. My mother was a bit cautious, but not for my sake. She was just afraid I’d get up to trouble and her status as a Christian would be more tarnished then it already was.
With this sour thought in my head, I felt distant to the rest of the children, at least the ones that were allowed to be able to get to school almost independently.
(to be continued...)
72/82
(part 46)
I glanced away from the window.
“Mum?” I suddenly asked her.
My voice was almost timid. I had not talked like that since I was eight years old.
“Hmm?” was her queried response, not taking her eyes off the road as I glanced over at her.
“Do you mind if I walk home from school?” I asked, my throat feeling dry as I knew the answer already.
“No, Henry. You know you need adult supervision,” she responded automatically.
There was no hint of anger in her voice but I detected the stern note she most normally used when dealing with me or Dad.
“But, I’m thirteen now. I Don’t need adult supervision,” I said, a hint of a whine escaping from my mouth.
“Frankly, Henry, you do,” she had said quite plainly, detecting my whine as a sign of rebellion.
I did not respond, hanging my head down again. She was almost blatantly hinting about the lighter incident. I knew I could not win this point.
We continued for the next few minutes in silence until we stopped outside the school gates. The car sputtered and coughed but settled down to finally stop by the curb.
I got out with my issued satchel and closed the door behind me. I did not glance back at my mother because she did not stay. She just gave a smash to the dashboard as the car would not start. It burst into life and with a jump start she was out of here like a bullet out of a gun, leaving a small trail of smoke in its wake.
(to be continued...)
I glanced away from the window.
“Mum?” I suddenly asked her.
My voice was almost timid. I had not talked like that since I was eight years old.
“Hmm?” was her queried response, not taking her eyes off the road as I glanced over at her.
“Do you mind if I walk home from school?” I asked, my throat feeling dry as I knew the answer already.
“No, Henry. You know you need adult supervision,” she responded automatically.
There was no hint of anger in her voice but I detected the stern note she most normally used when dealing with me or Dad.
“But, I’m thirteen now. I Don’t need adult supervision,” I said, a hint of a whine escaping from my mouth.
“Frankly, Henry, you do,” she had said quite plainly, detecting my whine as a sign of rebellion.
I did not respond, hanging my head down again. She was almost blatantly hinting about the lighter incident. I knew I could not win this point.
We continued for the next few minutes in silence until we stopped outside the school gates. The car sputtered and coughed but settled down to finally stop by the curb.
I got out with my issued satchel and closed the door behind me. I did not glance back at my mother because she did not stay. She just gave a smash to the dashboard as the car would not start. It burst into life and with a jump start she was out of here like a bullet out of a gun, leaving a small trail of smoke in its wake.
(to be continued...)
73/82
(part 47)
I glanced up at the large iron gates in front of me. It seemed to mock and scoff at my small stature every day I saw it. The doors were open now but once school started, I knew those gates would close and stay shut until four in the afternoon.
Above the iron barred gate doors was the plaque of our school, the large letters D.C.S embroidered with iron whilst the crest was resting inside the bronzed plaque. The silver-coloured large cross almost looked like a beacon of sorts. It plainly stated, “Yes, we are a religious school”.
Despite this, it was still a co-ed school, mixed with boys and girls of different races. But all the students are of Christian faith. Some just took it more seriously than others.
“Well, if it isn’t Henry Dawson. Gonna burn the school down, ya freak?” asked a conceited drawling voice I knew only too well.
I turned my head sharply in the direction of the voice. Yep, it was Billy Watkins. The smug git was smiling like the cat that got the cream. His friends, Ted and Roger Fairview were guffawing lightly to each other. I glared at the three of them but did not respond. I clenched my hand that held my satchel into a fist as I walked past the gate and the three of them into the school grounds.
It was against Priggs Policy to strike another student, whatever the reason.
(to be continued...)
I glanced up at the large iron gates in front of me. It seemed to mock and scoff at my small stature every day I saw it. The doors were open now but once school started, I knew those gates would close and stay shut until four in the afternoon.
Above the iron barred gate doors was the plaque of our school, the large letters D.C.S embroidered with iron whilst the crest was resting inside the bronzed plaque. The silver-coloured large cross almost looked like a beacon of sorts. It plainly stated, “Yes, we are a religious school”.
Despite this, it was still a co-ed school, mixed with boys and girls of different races. But all the students are of Christian faith. Some just took it more seriously than others.
“Well, if it isn’t Henry Dawson. Gonna burn the school down, ya freak?” asked a conceited drawling voice I knew only too well.
I turned my head sharply in the direction of the voice. Yep, it was Billy Watkins. The smug git was smiling like the cat that got the cream. His friends, Ted and Roger Fairview were guffawing lightly to each other. I glared at the three of them but did not respond. I clenched my hand that held my satchel into a fist as I walked past the gate and the three of them into the school grounds.
It was against Priggs Policy to strike another student, whatever the reason.
(to be continued...)
74/82
(part 48 )
Needless to say, that did not stop Tom from being a “trouble-maker”. No matter how many Hickory twigs thrashed him or sermons berated him for his sinful ways of violence and rebellion.
But, despite the jeers following me to my first class as people also kept a wide berth of me as if I was contagious, I know my reputation was hardly getting any better within the school yard. So, even though my short nails had pierced my skin with seething rage at Billy Watkins and his cronies, I knew it could do no good to my community standing. That and I did not know what my mother would do once I got home if I got in trouble at school. Most likely the best scenario would be that she’d get drunk out of her mind and collapse on the sofa again. But I did not want to risk it. I had to show them it was not getting to me and continued walking through the Assembly Hall towards my first class of the day.
But I did not get very far. I spotted them just as they saw me. Four older boys of Priggs. Upper Boys that took their Priggs attire and religion seriously by the looks of them.
I thought about walking past them. But once I saw they acknowledged me walking towards them they seemed to glare at me before starting to break into running steps.
Gulping, I stopped walking as they came at me. Their tidy hair was getting mildly tussled as they saw me start to back away and then I turned and ran from them.
(to be continued...)
Needless to say, that did not stop Tom from being a “trouble-maker”. No matter how many Hickory twigs thrashed him or sermons berated him for his sinful ways of violence and rebellion.
But, despite the jeers following me to my first class as people also kept a wide berth of me as if I was contagious, I know my reputation was hardly getting any better within the school yard. So, even though my short nails had pierced my skin with seething rage at Billy Watkins and his cronies, I knew it could do no good to my community standing. That and I did not know what my mother would do once I got home if I got in trouble at school. Most likely the best scenario would be that she’d get drunk out of her mind and collapse on the sofa again. But I did not want to risk it. I had to show them it was not getting to me and continued walking through the Assembly Hall towards my first class of the day.
But I did not get very far. I spotted them just as they saw me. Four older boys of Priggs. Upper Boys that took their Priggs attire and religion seriously by the looks of them.
I thought about walking past them. But once I saw they acknowledged me walking towards them they seemed to glare at me before starting to break into running steps.
Gulping, I stopped walking as they came at me. Their tidy hair was getting mildly tussled as they saw me start to back away and then I turned and ran from them.
(to be continued...)
75/82
(part 49)
But it was too late. I was yanked back as the foremost of them grabbed a hold of my swaying satchel. Immediately, they were upon me, one of them hitting me squarely in the gut. I doubled over and dropped my satchel. The four older boys grabbed it and ran, taking their spoils as spite against me.
I clutched my stomach, having pain where the guy hit me. I was on my knees, my eyes slightly watering from the pain. This was the first time I was in a fight, due to the strict rules of our Community I was not brought up to defend myself. Well, now I felt the desire to leave this terrible town as soon as possible. But I needed to recover first.
I let myself fall prone onto the floor, allowing time to mend me as I rested upon the smooth polished floor of the Assembly Hall.
I must have passed out because as soon as I came to, I saw a face above me, a girl’s face. A look was etched upon her face, not one of pity but of concern within her pale blue eyes. It was Jenny.
Jenny gazed at Henry Dawson, her voice caught in her throat as soon as she had found him prone upon the floor of the Assembly Hall. She felt conflicted for a moment, her thoughts dizzy as she considered calling for the school nurse but found she instead automatically walked over towards him and knelt by his side.
Jenny had a crush on Henry since the beginning of last year when she heard him sing for the first time in the church choir.
(to be continued...)
But it was too late. I was yanked back as the foremost of them grabbed a hold of my swaying satchel. Immediately, they were upon me, one of them hitting me squarely in the gut. I doubled over and dropped my satchel. The four older boys grabbed it and ran, taking their spoils as spite against me.
I clutched my stomach, having pain where the guy hit me. I was on my knees, my eyes slightly watering from the pain. This was the first time I was in a fight, due to the strict rules of our Community I was not brought up to defend myself. Well, now I felt the desire to leave this terrible town as soon as possible. But I needed to recover first.
I let myself fall prone onto the floor, allowing time to mend me as I rested upon the smooth polished floor of the Assembly Hall.
I must have passed out because as soon as I came to, I saw a face above me, a girl’s face. A look was etched upon her face, not one of pity but of concern within her pale blue eyes. It was Jenny.
Jenny gazed at Henry Dawson, her voice caught in her throat as soon as she had found him prone upon the floor of the Assembly Hall. She felt conflicted for a moment, her thoughts dizzy as she considered calling for the school nurse but found she instead automatically walked over towards him and knelt by his side.
Jenny had a crush on Henry since the beginning of last year when she heard him sing for the first time in the church choir.
(to be continued...)
76/82
(part 50)
She knew his reputation by word of mouth, but she did not believe him to be all that bad as the grown-ups thought. But her father, despite his own faults, would have none of it.
“A girl like you has no need to mess with a boy like Henry Dawson, understand? You are respected in this community. Best to set a good example,” he had said after she tried talking the matter over with him.
Sometimes, Jenny wished her mother was still alive. She would have known what to say whilst saving Jenny embarrassment. It wasn’t as if she was going out with Henry Dawson. Besides, he did not seem interested in her innocent advances that she picked up from seeing Henry’s mother use on that kind Brother David. And the whole conversation she had with Henry about her being sexy did not go over too well either. She had been ready to give him up in her heart until Fate had intervened and brought her feelings out as she saw him helpless in the Assembly Hall.
She had to help him, she could see that now. The school nurse was a gossip like the rest of the school staff. By lunchtime the whole school would know that Henry Dawson had been in a fight in Priggs and that would be bad. It would be bad for Henry, bad for his mother and most of all bad for Jenny herself. She did not want to be the cause of more grief for the boy she adored. He already was dealing with his reputation as a bad influence and apparently for starting a fire.
(to be continued...)
She knew his reputation by word of mouth, but she did not believe him to be all that bad as the grown-ups thought. But her father, despite his own faults, would have none of it.
“A girl like you has no need to mess with a boy like Henry Dawson, understand? You are respected in this community. Best to set a good example,” he had said after she tried talking the matter over with him.
Sometimes, Jenny wished her mother was still alive. She would have known what to say whilst saving Jenny embarrassment. It wasn’t as if she was going out with Henry Dawson. Besides, he did not seem interested in her innocent advances that she picked up from seeing Henry’s mother use on that kind Brother David. And the whole conversation she had with Henry about her being sexy did not go over too well either. She had been ready to give him up in her heart until Fate had intervened and brought her feelings out as she saw him helpless in the Assembly Hall.
She had to help him, she could see that now. The school nurse was a gossip like the rest of the school staff. By lunchtime the whole school would know that Henry Dawson had been in a fight in Priggs and that would be bad. It would be bad for Henry, bad for his mother and most of all bad for Jenny herself. She did not want to be the cause of more grief for the boy she adored. He already was dealing with his reputation as a bad influence and apparently for starting a fire.
(to be continued...)
77/82
(part 51)
Jenny felt a bit hesitant towards that, at first not believing it that Henry would do such a thing. But upon later reflection she had to admit that she had no proof either way and just had to be content with that for the time being.
Jenny saw Henry start to stir as he was coming around, his eyelids fluttering open and watched as he focused his attention to her. A feeling of relief flooded Jenny but she was still concerned for him.
Gulping back the tightness in her throat, Jenny was able to form words once again.
“Are you alright?” she asked him, her voice light in tone as she looked at him starting to rise.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” mumbled back Henry, as he raised himself slowly into a sitting position.
I glanced at him in a way I knew was not right. I could not help myself. It was so nerve-racking being around him. And just as soon as I had put him out of my mind, I stumbled across him. I began blushing after he sat up. His eyes seemed to pass through me as if I was hardly there. He probably felt vulnerable. I know I would be in his position. Henry was having trouble just sitting up but I did not say anything, not wanting to hurt his feelings. But, my heart ached as I watched him. I hated seeing people in pain. I moved as if to help him but stopped as he shook his head stubbornly. I sighed but did as bid, thinking what fools boys were sometimes as they were just so prideful in their egos. My father was no exception to this unwritten rule.
(to be continued...)
Jenny felt a bit hesitant towards that, at first not believing it that Henry would do such a thing. But upon later reflection she had to admit that she had no proof either way and just had to be content with that for the time being.
Jenny saw Henry start to stir as he was coming around, his eyelids fluttering open and watched as he focused his attention to her. A feeling of relief flooded Jenny but she was still concerned for him.
Gulping back the tightness in her throat, Jenny was able to form words once again.
“Are you alright?” she asked him, her voice light in tone as she looked at him starting to rise.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” mumbled back Henry, as he raised himself slowly into a sitting position.
I glanced at him in a way I knew was not right. I could not help myself. It was so nerve-racking being around him. And just as soon as I had put him out of my mind, I stumbled across him. I began blushing after he sat up. His eyes seemed to pass through me as if I was hardly there. He probably felt vulnerable. I know I would be in his position. Henry was having trouble just sitting up but I did not say anything, not wanting to hurt his feelings. But, my heart ached as I watched him. I hated seeing people in pain. I moved as if to help him but stopped as he shook his head stubbornly. I sighed but did as bid, thinking what fools boys were sometimes as they were just so prideful in their egos. My father was no exception to this unwritten rule.
(to be continued...)
78/82
(part 52)
He saw me as his little princess that would do no wrong. Believe me, if it was not a moral issue of the community I would abandon this town and live by my own rules. But, as it was, everybody’s expectations of me were so high that my own agendas hardly mattered anymore. The one thing I was concerned with was Henry Dawson. It seemed absurd at the time last year, but he was no longer just a short boy to me but a guy I felt comfortable being honest to. My flesh just tingled whenever I heard him sing in church and his casual hatred of this town just set him apart from the rest. Even the black sheep Tom Eccles seemed to go through the motions whilst Henry appeared to lead his own life despite his mother’s over-bearing nature.
“Do you ever wanna just leave this place?” he had spontaneously asked me after a service at Church.
I did not know exactly what to say at the time, especially since Brother David was right behind us as he was escorting people out. I nervously had glanced at my yellow ribboned white dress that I wore before answering Henry.
“I...I guess so, maybe, some day,” I twittered foolishly, glancing up and noticing Henry grinning at me.
I cursed myself for getting flustered but he seemed to just shrug it off as if it was nothing.
“Forget about it, Jenny. We ain’t ever gonna leave this place...even if they let us,” Henry had replied casually but whispered the last part so Brother David could not hear.
(to be continued...)
He saw me as his little princess that would do no wrong. Believe me, if it was not a moral issue of the community I would abandon this town and live by my own rules. But, as it was, everybody’s expectations of me were so high that my own agendas hardly mattered anymore. The one thing I was concerned with was Henry Dawson. It seemed absurd at the time last year, but he was no longer just a short boy to me but a guy I felt comfortable being honest to. My flesh just tingled whenever I heard him sing in church and his casual hatred of this town just set him apart from the rest. Even the black sheep Tom Eccles seemed to go through the motions whilst Henry appeared to lead his own life despite his mother’s over-bearing nature.
“Do you ever wanna just leave this place?” he had spontaneously asked me after a service at Church.
I did not know exactly what to say at the time, especially since Brother David was right behind us as he was escorting people out. I nervously had glanced at my yellow ribboned white dress that I wore before answering Henry.
“I...I guess so, maybe, some day,” I twittered foolishly, glancing up and noticing Henry grinning at me.
I cursed myself for getting flustered but he seemed to just shrug it off as if it was nothing.
“Forget about it, Jenny. We ain’t ever gonna leave this place...even if they let us,” Henry had replied casually but whispered the last part so Brother David could not hear.
(to be continued...)
79/82
(part 53 )
I had said nothing to that, feeling a bit foolish to have let it bug me at the time and yet also knowing Henry was right. We lived in a close knight community town. Despite the name, Dunsville is protective of its heritage and deep religious Roots.
We had not talked again until the next Sunday and even then it was just small talk because my father and Henry’s mother were accompanying us out.
“Jenny, can ya give me a hand?” Henry suddenly asked me which brought me out of my memories of our times together in Church.
I nodded and demurely got up with care not to wrinkle my school skirt that went down to below my knees. I beheld Henry’s hand as he was reaching up to get himself upright. His hand felt strong but soft. It was a warm feeling that for the moment I could hold within my own hand. It felt nice and as he yanked himself up with hardly much effort I almost thought it was only an excuse for Henry to hold my hand. But after those few seconds, he let go as he winced and held his stomach with his left arm. His right arm pulled up my satchel I had forgotten I let fall to the floor upon seeing Henry and running to his aid.
“Oh....thank you,” I said with sincerity as I took my satchel from him. “But, where’s yours?”
I glanced around where Henry had fallen but could not see his bag anywhere.
“The punks that beat me up stole it. But it’s no big deal. Forget about it, Jenny,” Henry had responded hoarsely before smiling grimly at me.
(to be continued...)
I had said nothing to that, feeling a bit foolish to have let it bug me at the time and yet also knowing Henry was right. We lived in a close knight community town. Despite the name, Dunsville is protective of its heritage and deep religious Roots.
We had not talked again until the next Sunday and even then it was just small talk because my father and Henry’s mother were accompanying us out.
“Jenny, can ya give me a hand?” Henry suddenly asked me which brought me out of my memories of our times together in Church.
I nodded and demurely got up with care not to wrinkle my school skirt that went down to below my knees. I beheld Henry’s hand as he was reaching up to get himself upright. His hand felt strong but soft. It was a warm feeling that for the moment I could hold within my own hand. It felt nice and as he yanked himself up with hardly much effort I almost thought it was only an excuse for Henry to hold my hand. But after those few seconds, he let go as he winced and held his stomach with his left arm. His right arm pulled up my satchel I had forgotten I let fall to the floor upon seeing Henry and running to his aid.
“Oh....thank you,” I said with sincerity as I took my satchel from him. “But, where’s yours?”
I glanced around where Henry had fallen but could not see his bag anywhere.
“The punks that beat me up stole it. But it’s no big deal. Forget about it, Jenny,” Henry had responded hoarsely before smiling grimly at me.
(to be continued...)
80/82
(part 54)
“Forget about it, Jenny,” he had said. Those were the same words he told me a year ago. What a fool I felt then and what a fool I felt now. Henry Dawson lived by his own rules but it was obvious to me now, the way he lived was in his own mind. He somehow had shut out the world and lived the same boring day over and over. I could see it now in his piercing eyes, below that was a dull sense of emotional suffering. And that scared me. It thrilled me. But most of all, it made me love him even more. This boy I loved was not afraid to speak his mind.
I had never felt this way before. It was a weird sensation. I blamed the punch I got to the gut for this feeling. I held my stomach as best as possible after I stood up and handed Jenny back her satchel. I felt a bit insecure as I was standing beside Jenny. Even she was slightly taller than me. It did not help that I was practically in a state of helplessness around her. It also felt weird to me, making me feel like a short idiot.
But I put on a brave face for Jenny’s sake. She was obviously worried about me, which made me also uncomfortable around her.
“Well, listen, I...I gotta go,” I muttered to Jenny with difficulty.
I thought I detected something in her eyes but after a second, she just gazed at me in a calm manner.
“Oh, of course. But, are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asked in a concerned voice.
Yep, I could see it, pity. It was plain on her somewhat pretty face.
(to be continued...)
“Forget about it, Jenny,” he had said. Those were the same words he told me a year ago. What a fool I felt then and what a fool I felt now. Henry Dawson lived by his own rules but it was obvious to me now, the way he lived was in his own mind. He somehow had shut out the world and lived the same boring day over and over. I could see it now in his piercing eyes, below that was a dull sense of emotional suffering. And that scared me. It thrilled me. But most of all, it made me love him even more. This boy I loved was not afraid to speak his mind.
I had never felt this way before. It was a weird sensation. I blamed the punch I got to the gut for this feeling. I held my stomach as best as possible after I stood up and handed Jenny back her satchel. I felt a bit insecure as I was standing beside Jenny. Even she was slightly taller than me. It did not help that I was practically in a state of helplessness around her. It also felt weird to me, making me feel like a short idiot.
But I put on a brave face for Jenny’s sake. She was obviously worried about me, which made me also uncomfortable around her.
“Well, listen, I...I gotta go,” I muttered to Jenny with difficulty.
I thought I detected something in her eyes but after a second, she just gazed at me in a calm manner.
“Oh, of course. But, are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asked in a concerned voice.
Yep, I could see it, pity. It was plain on her somewhat pretty face.
(to be continued...)
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