Rich and George: The Power Couple

Rich's POV: The Lamb and the Lion

I'm Rich Davis, and I'm not who you think I am. I know George hated me, but he came around eventually. I'm not a bad person, I swear on my life.

And now that that's out of the way, let's begin. My dad and my pop have been together as long as I can remember. Then again, I don't have the best memory. I was adopted around the age of three by the two of them, and they were married when I was about eleven. That's when it was legal, anyway.

My dad is probably one of the kindest men I've ever met. He has a bushy brown beard and finely trimmed short hair. He's big into baseball, and we love watching it together. He always had my back when I needed him.

My pop is a little tougher on us, but he's just as nice as Dad. He's got blonde hair that he gells back, and he's tall. He prefers cooking over baseball, but he'll watch it anyway. He's the one who taught me how to swim and ride a bike.

I have an older brother named Josh, and when I started middle school he was in his sophomore year of high school. I didn't like him much, he was always bringing a girl home or going out to parties. To him, I was just the baby brother.

I had a pretty normal life for the most part, but when I started middle school, things changed. And it started the moment I saw George.

Henry Dunmoore was the guy who beat up George. I'm not gonna recount the whole fight, but I will say that I remember the pain in his eyes when it was going on. My heart really went out to him. I knew I was friends with jerks, and I knew I was being used, but I was always afraid to say something. And when Henry called George gay, I felt my blood boil.

"Why didn't you stop him?" he asked. It felt like he was pleading. He was like a lamb, innocent and undeserving of what he was given.

And I was the lion, standing over him doing the opposite of what I should've done. He needed me, he needed help. And I didn't give it to him.

"I'm sorry, George." I sighed and walked out of the bathroom. I wasn't sure what to do after that. For starters, he really was cute. I didn't say that just to be a prick. I didn't think much of it, since that was normal in my household, but I wanted to get him to like me.

The rest of that day was annoying, because I couldn't get George out of my head. That innocent face, that curly brown hair, that dressy outfit, everything. I wanted him.

I came home to find Pop yelling at Josh about something, but I didn't care what. They stopped yelling when they saw me, and I could tell Josh was annoyed. "God, why is the kid home already?" he groaned.

"Don't call him that," Pop replied coldly. His expression warmed as he focused on me. "Hey, Ricky! How was school?"

"Eh," I shrugged. "Can I talk to you and Dad about something?"

"Oh, kiddo, I'm sorry. I can't talk now because your idiot brother decided to do pot instead of school."

"Stop making me the bad guy here!"

"But you are the bad guy! Seriously, I didn't raise you to do drugs!" When he noticed I was still in the room, Pop sighed. "Look, buddy. Your dad is in the garage fixing the car. I'll be out in five to talk to you." I walked out of the room, and they continued screaming at each other.

Just like Pop said, Dad was in the garage. He saw me and immediately gave me a bear hug. "Hey, Rich!" he exclaimed. "How was your day, buddy?"

"It was fine," I lied. Dad let go of me and looked me in my eyes. "I mean, it wasn't terrible, but--"

"What happened?"

"I wanted to talk about it with you and Pop, but he's talking to Josh."

Dad sighed. "I guess you heard about the pot, then," he told me. I nodded. "Look, your Pop and I love you very much, you know that. But Joshie needs some extra attention sometimes." I nodded, then Dad turned back to the truck. "You're a good sport, Rich."

"I know I am," I joked. He laughed, then Pop walked into the garage. "Oh, you're here! I'm ready to talk now."

"And I'm ready to listen." Pop pulled up a chair that was sitting in the corner of the garage and sat down, and Dad directed his attention back to me.

"So, I kinda lied about having a good day," I began. "Henry keeps picking on kids, and if I stop him, he'll do it to me."

"Kiddo--"

"I know I should tell someone, you don't have to tell me." I sighed. "Today was weird, though. It was a boy named George."

"Oh, Williams?" Dad asked. I nodded. "I know about that kid. His parents are the lawyers who live in that nice house on the other side of town."

"Let him finish, Clark," Pop replied.

I continued. "Henry hurt him, bad. And he's pretty small, too." They both nodded at me.

"He made me feel kind of bad, though. I, um..." I paused, taking a deep breath. "I thought he reminded me of a lamb."

"How so?"

"He was just so innocent, and he didn't do anything wrong." I started tearing up. "And I felt like a lion, like I had all the power over him. And I didn't want all the power." Now I was crying.

"Oh, kiddo, I'm sorry," Dad cooed. "I understand how you feel. And I get where you're coming from being scared that Henry will hurt you."

"I don't want to be his friend anymore," I wailed. "He uses me, he never lets me sit with him at lunch."

"That piece of sh--"

"Steve, he's eleven!" Dad glared at Pop, who quickly looked away. I laughed a little to myself. "Anyway, I know what'll cheer you up, Ricky."

"Ice cream?" My eyes went wide.

Dad glanced at Pop, who simply gave him a smirk. "I swear this kid can read my mind," he sighed. "Yes, ice cream."

"C'mon, kiddo." Pop reached out to take my hand, and I held it, walking inside the house.

I thought that if lions ate ice cream, they would stop overthinking the lambs. But, that wasn't the case.