A Kingdom of Our Own

Chapter Two - Bully

Portland, Orgeon - July 4th 1967

“Quick! Run!”

The two boys fled down the corridor at lightning speed. Meanwhile, closely behind them, skidding around the corner in their pursuit was Mr Richards, a man who had served as the boys’ morning tutor for the past two quarters. He was a middle aged, firm-faced fellow with shortly cut, light brown hair and wide-rimmed rectangular glasses. His creased, sweating brow indicated he’d been under a considerable amount of pressure recently and he emphasised his anger by exerting further growls of abuse.

Casting an initial glance at Mr Richards, he didn’t seem the sort of person that most sane children would have tried to mess around with. These boys had certainly known what they were doing though, reducing him to such a laughable wreck. It was rather difficult to take him seriously, with egg yolk dripping down his sodden face and debris of shell stuck in his hair. Maybe that’s why they had done it, to knock down their uptight tutor a peg or two.

“I’ll get you boys!” was the hollered cry that echoed down the dimly lit corridor.

The words ricocheted off the walls in a marvellous fashion, the scale and intensity of the sound making anyone in the general area stop and hold onto their ears for dear life. To further stress his anger, he’d pointed up one of his arms in the air in determination, trying to mock a superman pose. Nevertheless, despite his enthusiasm, he didn’t continue after them. He just stood there, enraged, breathing heavily to himself. “Little rats! I’ll get ‘em later” he grumbled to himself, wiping a mass of egg yolk out of his hair with a handkerchief which hit the carpeted floor below with an almighty splat.

As little as a hundred yards further down the corridor, a completely different emotion was evident. One of jubilation.

“Oh my God, Mr Richard’s face! Boy that was great! That was so fine!” one of the boys cried with glee, his pace beginning to slow now he realised their pursuer had fallen behind. He was twelve coming on thirteen, the same age as his friend who had drawn to a halt beside him, crouching down and heaving in tiredness. Dalton Hughes; that was the first boy’s name. It must be noted that his bright green eyes gave off a considerable air of mischief about his character, although his skinny build made him seem awfully innocent too. It didn’t appear he could do much damage, not in the slightest. In terms of appearance, he had a fairer skin complexion than most, as well as shortly-cut dark brown hair which had a rather silky texture about it, as if it had only recently been washed. The same praise regrettably could not be said about his scruffy dress code, resembling someone from a clearly disadvantaged background. He wore a grubby, dark red, short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans with the ends turned up, all topped off with a pair of battered converse.

The other boy, who continued to pant, went by the name of Harry Simpkins. It was this boy who you could say was the “primary cause” of Dalton’s acts of mischief over the past few months. It had all started when he’d been moved to sit next to him in extra maths and Harry, being an infamous troublemaker in the school had been quick in passing on his traits. Again, like his friend he was relatively slim in terms of physique, with short, rather greasy blonde hair. His eyes were a light blue in colour and darted around an awful bit, as if he was expecting Mr Richards to emerge in an eager pursuit at any second. Luckily nothing of the sort happened and once he was completely satisfied on the matter, he turned to face Dalton. Laying a hand on his shoulder he said, “Wow! That was some major shit man! Of all the people we could have egged, we went for Mr Richards. Oh man! We really need to lay low for a while.” The last sentence he uttered in a slightly more serious manner, it dwelling on him what the consequences could be. Mr Richard’s sure were harsh with his punishments. No one got off lightly for their misdeeds.