Chapter 3 {I}

The first incident that affirmed our main character's opinion about the coin's lucky abilities happened the next day at school.

The first half of school had gone okay. He hadn't worn the coin as a pendant, after all. But by the time it was break time, about half of the boys in class J6 were convinced Finian Relish was a descendant of the bravest and most feared military general in the second world war.

So, the child was in high spirits as he walked down the school corridor to his locker at break time. He could be seen with a pep in his step and a low whistle in his throat.

Then the bullies came.

The euphoria suffused from his face faster than a vacuum could have done.

It was not that the bullies had been a surprise. No, they came regularly, at most three times a week (Once in a while he was lucky to see neither hide nor hair of them for a whole week). But, alas, he had been so self-absorbed in his recent rise to recognition that the thought of his normal bullies had been erased, for just a moment. Because if not, Finian Relish would have brisked in and out of the locker corridor so as not to fall into the clutches of the bullies, if he were lucky.

No, it's not what you're thinking. Finian was not your typical weakling boy that got picked on all the time. The bullies, more openly known as The Bigs, or so, were a group of old boys that terrorized the other kids. Even some of the kids in the lower class were unfortunate enough to not be left out.

The Bigs were boys mostly in their teens already. Boys who had been dumb enough to have been asked to reread a class or two. When they talked about brawns and no brains, The Bigs were the definition of it. At least, most of them. They used their post-puberty and age to their advantage to bully the other kids.

What got Finian the maddest was that the boys' two-year-and-going reign had yet to be checked by an adult, be it teacher or parent. The adults were either too busy to mind much or didn't believe the children's accusations.

Some pretty dumb teachers even went as far as to make members of the group to be class leaders. Because they were too lazy to pick out a suitable person for the roles, they automatically assumed the bullies were fit because they were older and supposedly more mature, and therefore leadership worthy.

And all nonmembers of the bully group suffered from this. Right from primary five. Any class works got handed down to the class, camping trips, the other kids got cheated out of their stuff, field trips, and so on.

Forgive me, I didn't mean to digress so. I just wanted you to be aware of the temerity of the bullies in our main character's school life. I'd still take a moment to wonder how those boys later turned out.

It wouldn't be far fetched to guess it probably ended with dropping out and comeuppances. And maybe a few lucky CEOs, who knows.

Back to the track, I believe I had been talking about Finian's joy draining out of him. The boy found himself wishing he hadn't forgotten that important fact. Suddenly, he didn't feel so self-absorbed. He remembered a few of the bullies were in J6 and might have overhead his gallivatings.

He felt for the coin in the small breast pocket of his checkered shirt and the boy wished it'd save him from them. He watched as the group advanced, wide-eyed and swallowing. It was just too late to escape them. The group of seven advanced faster. He felt like a human infant slowly being surrounded by a pack of scraggly, hungry wolves.

He left his hand on the coin and backed against his locker, hitting it with a metallic clang. If it were possible, the boy would have sunk into the metal doors.

'If it's not Finnie, the soldier boy.' one of the boys started, flicking his hand at his forehead.

The remaining six laughed boisterously at that. One would think he had cracked a joke or thereabout.

Finish gulped. He could feel other eyes on him - boys and girls who braved the presence of The Bigs to watch a fellow student being tortured. They must have all figured it had happened or would happen to them at one point in time.

Then the leader of The Bigs stepped out. His name was Hansel. He was the biggest and burliest with heavily muscled arms and the stupid biceps he always flashed about. His voice had broken the deepest, which made him sound like a ruffian. His hair was a shaggy mess of brown-gold hair. He was the tallest out of the group.

There were rumours that he was the oldest boy in the whole of Hicks Grade School. Some swore he was seventeen. Some claimed to have known him from outside school that he was sixteen. Some said he was only fifteen. But nobody ever claimed below that.

But Finian always thought Hansel had spread those false rumours himself to strengthen his reign of terror. He had been classmates with Odessa in preschool, so he couldn't be older than fourteen or fifteen.

Hansel could easily have been the typical handsome guy in school all the girls fell for and all the boys wanted to befriend. Except that he wasn't that much of a looker and the little beauty he could have used to his advantage was marred by his preceding reputation.

As normal, the other members of the gang parted way for their boss and looked on smugly as they awaited their lordship to met out the first attack.

'Where's the bloody coin?' Hansel demanded, stretching out his palm. He had a menacing look on his face which he used to scare people. It was no far guess that it worked on our main character.

The boy gulped and stepped back further into the locker door.