The Boy And The Wolf

The Boy

                                                                                          ⦽⦽⦽⦽

I had been sitting at my desk with my pencil in hand. Scribbling away at the paper beneath my forearms creating mythical masterpieces of the friends in the forest I would hope to meet someday. This particular sketch was that of a wolf, a very poorly drawn wolf, that sat upon a fallen tree in the forest. I gave it yellow eyes and caramel colored fur, with ears that were so tall they almost looked like horns. As exquisite as it might sound, my artistic abilities at the age of 7 were hardly defined, and the sketch showed it. The pencil lines were botchy and the crayon coloring was hardly 'inside the lines' to say the least.

As my pencil began to detail the surrounding plant life the wolf sat in, a sudden jerk of my desk propelled the pencil line half way through my work. This act had destroyed my piece of art. The pencil line was distinct and thick due to the pressure with which my hand held it against the paper. My eyes darted for the perpetrator who had caused this disaster. A boy I knew by the name Holt stood beside the desk next to me with a far away grin, as if he was trying to hide his amusement. He was an interesting character in this new world of mine. Black hair reached just below his ear and light freckles tickled his nose and chubby face, almost as though someone sprinkled them across from one cheek to the other. When I think back about Holt I realize he was a little overgrown for a child. I had seen him taunt other children before in my short time here. His eyes were tantalizing for a first grader and his build was in favor of this. Looking at his eyes, I could feel myself become flustered with anger. It was clear I was being teased and I did not know how to respond. This was entirely... new.

"What are you looking at?"

These words pulled me out of my thoughts and I looked at Holt, my mouth slightly agape as though I had something to say, yet nothing came out all. This was strange for me. Never did I feel like what I wanted to say couldn't be said, but as Holt's slightly projected words caught my attention, I noticed he had also caught the attention of everyone else in the room. I began to feel insecure. I did not feel as though I could respond with all the eyes that began to peer towards me. All of their faces showed different versions of judgment and curiosity. They clearly understood better than I that something would be unfolding. I, however, was speechless. My face began to prickle with shame and I looked at my fingers. They had begun to fimble with the pencil in my hand for some form of comfort. This encouraged Holt in his antics.

"Can't speak? Are you mute? Come to think of it, I've never heard you say a single word, that's freaking weird." He sneered as I peered up at him from under my eyelashes. I wanted to scream out the frustration that was building inside me, my face began to burn more feverishly. My fist clenched around the pencil that was in my hand. I felt my heart speed up as my body started to rise out of my seat. In the heat of the moment I did not realize what I was about to do, looking back I imagine it would have been highly graphic. Before I could make any further moves, a slamming against the desk in the back of the room brought me out of my anger driven daze. All the peering eyes including Holt's shot in the direction of the sound, my eyes followed to see a boy I had barely noticed before.

The first thing that caught my attention was his clenched fists. He showed clear signs of dismay for Holt and his antics, his eyes peering directly into Holts. His expression would scare anyone. For a child to even be capable of such an expression was bizarre and unnatural. Oddly, this small notion provided some comfort and relaxed me enough so that I could find my center and begin to calm down. As I began to take deep breaths the dark-brown haired boy stepped from behind his desk and made his way in our direction.

"Holt, do you ever get bored of bothering little girls? Why don't you learn to grow the hell up!" He sneered with more attitude than Holt could ever have mustered up while stopping directly in front of the boy who had violated my mythical masterpieces. I had sat back down and watched the situation in slight discomfort as the other childrens 'ooos' and 'oh no he didn't' filled the space around us. I saw Holt's eyebrow twitch and his mouth open and close for a few seconds, almost as if he was experiencing the same feelings I had endured a little while ago. With his cheeks flushed, he took a couple steps back and looked around to see the audience now had their attention on him. As impeccably timed as ever our teacher had stepped through our classroom door, she pushed her thin glasses up the bridge of her nose as she took in the scene before her.

"Is there a problem, boys?" Her voice crisply asked the two boys standing in front of her. Both boys created a solid distance between them in her presence. The classroom responded by dismissing their pryful eyes almost immediately . It was interesting that the only synergy you would find in our classroom was that of kids who were set on avoiding punishment.

Holt shook his head 'no' as an obvious attempt to diffuse the situation he knew he had caused. The other boy, my savior, looked away from our teacher with a dismissive attitude. He was tough, clearly. She sighed and tapped her little shoes on the tiled floor. "Then I guess I will be expecting you both to go back to your seats." She spoke quickly as she walked away to tend to her desk before class began. She had no reason to look back as the boys had taken to their seats as soon as she stepped away. 'She clearly ran a tight ship' I thought.

Holt went home early that day. His parents came to get him from school, apparently he had been feeling ill and needed to go home. Me and the rest of the kids in my class knew the real story. I spent the rest of the day peeking at the dark brown haired boy in the corner. I guess not everyone is as bad as I thought.