The Edge of Honour

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Gorran's POV

I stared at the board with disinterest as the teacher droned on about various topics. School was important, I understand that, but it was also a huge chore for me. I did want to be successful in life and to make my mark on the world. However, spending hour upon hour trying to retain information, which I was unlikely to ever need, was not what I wanted.

I had plans to be an artist, just like my father had been when we lived in Denmark. When we moved to London, he had had to change his job despite having had it for his entire life. His paintings were not fetching high enough prices and it had become too difficult to save enough money for even the essentials. Although he tried to hide it from us, I could tell that his office job was not giving him any happiness. He longed to hold the paintbrush in his hand professionally once again instead of just as a hobby. Our house was filled with his beautiful and unusual paintings.

It was dream to become a successful painter like he had been. The classroom in which I sat would not help me to achieve that dream however. My parents believed that I needed a backup plan, they were worried that I too would not be able to live off the money I would generate from my artwork. I could understand their point of view, yet I despised having to listen to the monotonous voice spurt out information at me.

The bell sounded loudly and despite the teacher’s valiant attempts at speaking over it and continuing the class, the chairs were eagerly placed on top of each desk. The excited chatter soon began and feet quickly shuffled out the door for a weekend of freedom. I hung back, allowing the other students to leave before me. I had found it difficult to make friends in my new school, so eventually I gave up on finding anybody to talk to. I had hope, but I desperately missed my friends back home. It was awful not being able to talk to them daily, to tell them about everything that was happening in my life. In all honesty, I was worried that they would forget me, that they would move on and replace me.

For once it was a bright and sunny day, which was highly unusually for London. The sun hit me as I descended the steps and warmed even my insides.

At the far end of the carpark, I could hear a commotion. Raised voices echoed from the area to the left of the school building. The shouts shook me and I instantly knew that something was wrong.

The feeling inside me changed and a strange cold, hard sensation filled my entire body. I ran over to the scene at the corner of the car park. My hands flexed at my sides and I bitterly ground my teeth. I had no idea what I was could do to stop it but I knew that I had to try and do something. I was incapable of standing by and watching something like this happen.

A small boy cowered in the centre of an approaching circle. The ring around him was filled with boys much older than him. They were in my year. They were the boys that we tried our best to stay away from for our own safety. I knew that I was about to cause trouble for myself, big trouble, but I disregarded it. The fear in the boys face was evident as I peered through the gaps in the circle; he was terrified.

The tallest boy, Liam reached out his fist and threateningly placed it on the young boy’s jaw, who let out a loud, fearful cry. This reaction only served to cause the gang to laugh harder at his misfortune. The anger inside me surged; I hated seeing people suffer especially when it was purely for the enjoyment of others. I could never understand how people were capable of enjoying inflicting pain on others.

I could no longer stand by and watch like the others who had begun to gather. I had to help. I may not have known the young boy in question, but I knew that nobody deserved to be treated like this. I advanced towards the group and came to an abrupt halt beside Liam.