I find the boy looking downcast outside the main building.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, hurrying over to console him with a hug. He’s stiff as a board and trembling, so I squeeze him tighter.
Leaning back to face him, I ask, “what’s the matter?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He hangs his head in shame.
I pass him my handkerchief. “Let me be the judge of that. Where’s your bag?”
He isn’t carrying it.
“Those boys took it.” He replies.
“Why don’t you go get it?” I ask.
He gestures toward a group of older kids nearby, laughing among themselves. “Look at them. They’re high school seniors.”
“Those boys took your bag?” I look in their direction.
“Yes,” he sniffs, handing back my handkerchief.
“Stay here. I’ll handle it.” I say as I scan the premises.
“No,” he says quickly, voice trembling. “They’re bullies.”
“I don’t give a damn who they are.”
Two teachers are chatting nearby. If this goes awry, I can call for help, but not yet. I’m gearing up to take care of business. I slip into my lonesome cowboy fantasy. Here there is no fear. Squaring my shoulders, I mutter, “You can do this,” and stomp across the grass.
“Give me the bag,” I demand as I reach the group of delinquents.
They turn in surprise and laugh in my face.
“Give me the bag,” I repeat. “You heard me!”
“What did you just say, little girl?” one sneers.
Before I think better of it, I punch him square in the nose. The first punch is everything. While they’re stunned, I grab the bag.
“I suggest you never mess with me, or my friends, again.” I widen my eyes, willing myself to look unhinged. I shake my fist at them.
They blink. Silent.
Then one dares, “Or what?”
“You want to pick up your teeth with a broken hand?” I snap.
With that, I turn on my heel and march off. I don’t look back.
The boy is gobsmacked. “What did you just do?”
“I don’t know,” I grin, I am the one trembling now. “I socked him. Now we scarper.”
We run like hell and rush to our bikes, giddy and terrified. My hand throbs. “I think I hit bone.” I say. The boy says we can look at it when we get home.
By the time we reach my house, we’re breathless and high on adrenaline. Miss Mary tells me off no end:
“All that sass is gonna get you in real trouble one day!” she warns.
I nod solemnly, pretending to care. Miss Mary shakes her head.
“You’re like a fart in a hot skillet.” The boy says, laughing, as Miss Mary places a bowl of fruit in front of us on the kitchen table. “She sure is.” Miss Mary notes in a more serious tone.
Later, in my room, he grins. “Birdie Lionheart.”
I wear my new crown with pride.
“Doggone.” he says giggling. “You were so brave today.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” I smile, still glowing. I polish my invisible crown and place it on my head.
My novel GREAT ARE THE MYTHS will be serialised (one chapter each day) over the summer of 2026. If you would rather listen to the audiobook, the full story is available for free on all the usual platforms. Info and links HERE
My World of Interiors 