*Dring*

The bell at Mayville Parkdale School rang. Immediately the schoolyard was taken over by hundreds of children who were yelling from all sides. However, the cheerful air of the court had suddenly changed into a movement of agitation. The previously clear blue sky had now clouded over, and an unusual summer thunderstorm had erupted. The children, surprised, had run to take shelter under the covered playground.

Sullivan Lyles was huddled in a corner of the courtyard, hiding. But he did not care about the raging sky: He used the noise to stay unnoticed. 

A boy came forward with a nasty smile on his lips. It was Barton Rooks, always the same, always the one who made him suffer, who harassed him.

 – So Sullivan, are we playing hide and seek?

 Barton was the tallest and strongest in school, wore nearly shaved hair, hooded sweaters that he lifted over his head and very wide joggers, a real bully. Even the older students were wary of him and preferred not to provoke him. 

Sullivan looked up at the group around him: Barton was in the middle, legs apart, his fist in his hand. He avoided looking into the menacing black eyes of his tormento.  Barton had a vicious little smile, making him look like a big bad guy. Except that in reality, Barton was even crueler. His favorite pastime was relentlessly bullying weak, fragile, or shy children, simply for the pleasure of causing suffering and asserting dominance.

Sullivan was the perfect target. His extreme shyness almost rendered him mute, and his dislike for sports left him as thin as a rail. 

Barton reached out to the boy on the ground.

  – Did you forget what day it is? It's Monday! 

Sullivan swallowed hard and tried to answer without stammering. 

 – I ... I don't have any money today. 

Barton's smile grew, he was not angry because there was something he preferred even more than money: to fight. Sullivan knew what forgetting money meant. 

Barton insisted, 

– What about your weekly pocket money? What did you do with it? 

Sullivan buried his head in his lap.

– I didn't get it, he said in a small voice.

– Why didn't you get it? Your parents are too poor, right? 

The group laughed, even a group of girls a little further had also laughed. Barton leaned over and grabbed Sullivan's neck. 

 – How are you going to pay, huh? 

Sullivan couldn't even respond, suffocating under Barton's iron grip; his other hand was clenched, ready to strike. As Sullivan closed his eyes, another loud voice from behind interrupted them. 

– He told you he didn't have one. You didn't understand?

 Barton let go of the boy and turned around with his group. Abruptly, two bullies from his group went to face a medium-sized boy with blue eyes and brown hair. 

– Here, Ezra! You want to pay for him?

 Barton hadn't impressed the newcomer at all. The latter did not even answer him, hands in pockets, he walked past the group as if they did not exist and stopped in front of Sullivan. 

 – Get up, he said gently. You're not going to let yourself go yet, right? 

Sullivan would have liked this to stop, but when Barton forbade talking to anyone about it, it was best to obey him, so he let it continue.

 – Hey, Ezra, what are you getting into? yelled, Barton. 

It's a matter between him and me, so get out. Ezra was not particularly strong; moreover, he did not know Sullivan very well, probably because he was not really interested in the people of the class. However, he was not like the other students who watched the scene, passive. He knew what it was like to suffer and did not wish it on others, so he just couldn't sit around and do nothing. Ezra extended his hand. Sullivan grabbed it and stood up while brushing the dust off his pants.

– You shouldn't let yourself go, said Ezra. Never. Otherwise, that ... 

He was interrupted by Barton. He had lost his smile, and his expression was now tense with anger at the behavior of Ezra, who had completely ignored him. He put his large hand on Ezra's shoulder and squeezed tight. 

– Coward, didn't you hear me? It's none of your business, so get out, or you're going to get the same "thing" as him. 

Ezra turned and freed himself from Barton with a quick shoulder movement. Instead of shaking, he smiled. Sullivan watched him admiringly, glad that at last someone resisted this brute. 

– And what is that "thing"? He asked, clenching his fists. 

Barton looked around, many students had come to attend the scene. In particular, there was a group of girls, one of whom was Thea, the most beautiful in school. Barton couldn't help but smile, he was looking forward to being able to bully another boy, who seemed to want to be tough. It would be an opportunity to show that he was the strongest and to show off a little in front of Thea. He approached Ezra and tilted his face full of pimples and scars on him.

– It will be a very special treatment for those who are poorly educated. Tell me, your father never taught you to respect the strongest? Ah, I forgot, it's because you don't have one, he said mockingly. 

Until then, Ezra had remained calm. But like every time we talked about his father, he felt anger rising in his body like a wave. Barton's smile was so broad that his sharp teeth stood out. He understood that he had just touched a sore point. Ezra's once calm demeanor had changed dramatically, his blue eyes glowing with anger. He wasted no time and threw herself on Barton to take him to the ground. The two boys rolled on the ground, but Barton, more stout and tall, took over it. He immobilized Ezra and put his big hands to his throat. Ezra had trouble breathing, he felt like his head was going to explode, but he didn't want to admit defeat. He suddenly moved his knee, which hit the side of his enemy. The rage had increased its power tenfold, which made Barton tense with pain. In response, Barton delivered a violent punch to Ezra's stomach. He almost vomited on Barton because the blow was so sharp. Obviously, Barton was more potent than him... Around them, everyone seemed to be panicked, but no one intervened. Barton had managed to get on top of Ezra, pinning down his wrist to prevent movement.

Suddenly, a harsh and powerful voice echoed,

– Enough!

Everyone turned as if they were one.

Behind them stood a man in his forties, wearing an oversized shirt and small glasses, which barely concealed his furious gaze.In an instant, the courtyard fell silent.

– Of course, said Professor Vittel. 

It's you again, Barton! He was not more surprised when he saw Ezra's face behind Barton's broad back,

– You too, Ezra. I'm very disappointed in you.

He looked at the other students,

– Is there no one responsible enough here to come and talk to me about it?

He sighed,

– Both of you, come to my office.

Sullivan, glued to the wall and trembling, tried to intervene.

– Mr. Vittel, it's not Ezra's fault, it's...

A mere glance from Barton was enough to silence him.

–  What? the professor replied, irritated. If you have something to say, say it, or go back to class.

He looked at the students,

– And you, didn't you hear the bell? Break's over, hurry up!

The students, Barton and his group, headed to their class. Only Thea approached Ezra, still on the ground.

– You're no match for Barton, but it was kind of cute how you defended Sullivan, she said, blushing.

Ezra averted his gaze; he barely knew Thea, but seeing her sometimes with Barton was enough reason to ignore her. Besides, fortunately, there weren't many people around, for Thea was one of the prettiest girls in class. With her long blond hair and golden eyes, many were drawn to her, so Ezra preferred to stay away from such people.

Ezra struggled to his feet, about to return to class, when the professor's voice called out.

– Ezra!

Ezra rolled his eyes and walked back. He already knew the professor's speech by heart :

– Ezra, I'm very disappointed, I'll tell you again. I thought after our talk with your mother last week, you'd be more sensible. I know it's hard for you, but again, there are rules, and you must follow them.

Ezra lowered his head,

– Sir, it's Barton, he was about to bully Sullivan...

– And you got involved, as always, the professor interrupted.

– I'd rather it be me than him, that's all.

The professor sighed,

– No one asked you to be a vigilante, Ezra! Believe me, I know what Barton can do. But, you promised your mother and me you'd calm down, and I see you haven't kept your word.

Ezra remained silent. He knew arguing now was simply futile. Letting the storm pass was the best thing to do.

The professor was angry, but he was also close to Ezra. He knew his situation well and preferred to use words rather than anger with him. He took a napkin and wiped Ezra's face, covered in dirt and a bit of blood.

– Don't touch it, you're covered in sand and dust, it will get infected.

He pushed the boy's head back and bent down to examine the wound.

– Just some scratches, go clean up and come back to class quickly.

After cleaning his wounds and crossing the long corridor of building A, Ezra finally arrived in front of his class.

– Go sit down quietly, said the professor.

Ezra walked slowly to his seat, feeling the stares of others on him and Barton watching him even more intently.

Ezra shook his head, reminding himself he was in class. Trying to catch up on the first 10 minutes he had missed.

The afternoon dragged so slowly that Ezra felt he had spent a week at school when the final bell finally rang.

On the professor's orders, Ezra waited for all the students to leave the school.Indeed, Barton's provocations and those of his friends had not escaped Mr. Vittel's vigilant eye. He wanted to prevent a tragedy from happening at the end, especially since outside of school, if parents got involved, it would be even more delicate.

After 10 minutes, Ezra bid the professor goodbye and slipped away. He was relieved that Mr. Vittel had not imposed another speech before leaving. However, he wasn't done yet; there was a much thornier problem that required much more diplomacy: how to explain to his mother the summons the next day? It wouldn't be easy to hide that he had fought with Barton, let alone ignore the punishment.

Especially since Elena had gone to school last week to talk to Professor Vittel, at his request. "Your son is highly capable," he had told her for the thousandth time. All the teachers agree. He's interesting, engaging, but that's it; he acts on his own judgments. But at school, there are rules to follow, and Ezra just doesn't get it.

Elena couldn't argue: she had trouble controlling him, but she didn't want to delve into the details of their family life and explain how hard it was to raise her children alone. And since Maya, her eldest daughter, had left, it was even more complicated. But deep down, Elena felt rather content with the outcome: she could have ended up with a delinquent like Barton who had his father. Instead, her son was a bit rebellious, but he was a good boy, smart and honest. As indulgent as she was towards her son, Elena wasn't going to congratulate him when he will announce that he had torn his pants on the gravel and had been summoned the next day for a fight in the middle of the schoolyard..

Dear Reader,

Some time ago, during a period we will never forget, I began writing this novel. The world was in the grip of uncertainty due to COVID-19, and writing was my refuge, my way of breathing life into different worlds, of creating escapes for both myself and you, dear readers.

However, for various reasons, I had to put this project on hold. But I never forgot the commitment I made to you, to bring you this story.

Today, in 2024, I am keeping that promise. I have resumed writing with renewed energy, fine-tuned the initial chapters to make them even better, and I am ready to share this journey with you. From now on, you can expect a new chapter every week, as your support has always been my greatest motivation.

I hope that returning readers will rediscover this story with the same enthusiasm as the first time, and I extend a warm welcome to new readers who are joining us for this adventure.

Happy reading, and may these pages transport you to extraordinary worlds.

With gratitude,

Azys