Wolf Iron

Chapter 8 / #1 Trending on Reeve

What a chav...

All 6's and 7's that one is...

Barlow eyes twitched and his legs were feeling quite jumpy indeed. He gripped his fork firmly and pushed his thumb down against the plastic prongs until he could feel the pain almost break through his thumbnail. What did they know? 

"Alright, Morris?"

Barlow felt a hand at his shoulder and saw Roger giving him a disapproving look. Almost as if Roger heard and agreed with them as well.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just piss off." 

Barlow couldn't often explain what exactly it was that triggered his selective focus but when he was on his medication, he paid attention to almost positively everything regarding that girls did. And when he saw Nia Cook chatting excitedly about something, he decided to sit at the football table where he thought he might just pick up some chatter about him.

"He's honestly such a freak. I feel sorry for his parents."

"I heard he's on some mad meds. I hate being sat next to him in class. Makes me want to change my seat as well."

Barlow grimaced and then he felt a fool, he felt a bloody fool for everything he had ever done in his life. Crossing his T's and dotting his I's and flourishing his numbers! What an incredibly daft thing to do! His anger honed in as his legs started shaking. 

"Mate, are you all right? You're bleeding," Roger said. 

Barlow looked down and his thumb was trickling blood down onto the plastic fork and then he heard quite a loud laugh. Still shaking, he saw it was that bloody puff, Ronnie or whatever his name was. He rose on shaky legs and made way for him, his large body primed for violence and chaos. 

I'll show that tosser why he's worse than me. 

Barlow saw nothing else but Rodney's lips curled up in smugness and rancor and wanted nothing more than to hurt him. He didn't care if his parents sent him to the other side of the planet. 

Everything was a silent buzz about him. 

His thumb was still bleeding as he tucked it behind his fingers and took aim for the backside of Rodney's head when he felt a small blunt force crash into his face. 

The world returned and he heard a chorus of "Oh's!" sound off like an orchestra as he felt for the table next to him. He opened his eyes and couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

A girl, in a gray jumper so long that not even her fist extended from it, had a rough handful of his hair in her hands, with her other hand poised to hit him again. 

"What in the blazes-" cried Rodney from Barlow's side as he jumped up and backed away. 

Barlow felt himself foaming in the mouth and he tasted blood as well. He screamed a scream that was half primal and half child-like and grabbed a lunch tray to bash the girl's brains in.

"Gwah!

He swung as hard as possible and the girl ducked with time to spare and came up with a perfect palm strike to his throat, her mahogany eyes perfectly calm in the midst of a fight. 

"Is that it all you've got, you big oaf?"

He fell backwards and caught his throat, wheezing for air, barely able to breathe. 

"Stop it! Stop it! What is this? Stop filming! Put your mobiles away!" Teachers piled in around the students and grabbed for Barlow. 

Morris! Morris! Can you breathe, Morris? Breathe with me."

Barlow felt a woman take him in her arms and while his vision was fading, he could just make out ladies perfume. 

Sounds were coming in, albeit fainter and more distant. Then the girl's voice.

What? I've barely touched him, he'll be fair to middling in a few! 

A strange accent that was, he thought while fading further. 

Morris, stay with us!

Barlow looked up again and saw that familiar bra through the blouse. 

Ah, he thought, good old Professor Harcourt. 

Then, he faded into darkness.