Bowie
Jack walked with an umbrella that was useless. The rain pelted him sideways thanks to unrelenting wind from the storm of the decade. He was soaked from head to foot, but didn’t really mind. Or more appropriately, his mind was on something else—the threat earlier in the day from the school bully, Eric Header.
Because of the wet weather, Ms. Ackley kept her students indoors for recess. Jack was pretty good about staying out of Eric’s way on the playground, but in close quarters, it was like being trapped in a sardine can and trying to avoid the smell of fish. Eric took it upon himself to pick on Lucy Davis, a very shy and timid girl. Eric called her “Juicy Lucy” and poked her to make juice come out. It was too much for Jack. He tried being diplomatic at first, “Come on, Eric, you can do better than that!”
“What do you mean?” asked Eric.
“She’s an easy target,” replied Jack.
“So?” Eric was an equal-opportunity bully. He picked on the tall, the short, the fat, the fit, girls, boys … if you were breathing, you were a candidate for “Header and the Henchmen” as the victims called Eric and his gang of thugs.
Jack got frustrated. “How do you argue with an idiot?” he said to himself, though unfortunately, he said it out loud to himself—and everyone within a twenty-foot radius.
Since Jack referred to him in the third person, Eric didn’t catch on at first because his shoe size was larger than his IQ, and he didn’t have big feet to begin with. “What idiot?” asked Eric.
Jack may have been able to talk himself out of it with Eric but one of the Henchmen, Artie Buckman, overheard the insult and came right over. “Eric, I think our boy here needs to be taught a lesson!” Eric finally caught on and snarled. A few of the other Henchmen gathered around Jack just as the bell rang. Ms. Ackley ushered everyone back to their desks.
“We’ll see you after school, Jackie Boy!” Eric cackled that ubiquitous bully cackle as he and his gang dispersed.
Jack had never been in a fight before and didn’t feel like breaking new ground just yet, but he knew avoiding the conflict would only make it worse. He’d have to watch his back constantly and at some point, he’d still have to face the music. While Jack walked home, he thought about how much he missed having a father at times like these.
Jack knew Eric and his crew were going to give him a beating. When and where were the only questions. He certainly didn’t look forward to it, but strangely enough, he wasn’t afraid of it either. He also considered his opinion might change after the beating.
“Well, who do we have here?” Eric stood at the corner under the awning of a storefront with four of the Henchmen in tow, Artie being one of them.
“I’m Jack, and you are?”
Eric was dumbfounded. “You don’t remember my name?”
Artie nudged Eric. “He was screwing with you.”
Eric shook it off a half-second too late. “I knew that!”
The Henchmen encircled their victim. Artie snatched the umbrella from Jack’s hand and threw it on the sidewalk. The wind picked it up and carried it down the street. It was strangely mesmerizing to watch the umbrella dance along the asphalt. For a brief moment, there were no friends or enemies, only the random interplay of man and his environment. But such philosophical ponderings don’t last long in the minds of miscreants and they quickly refocused their attention on the task at hand, beating up Jack.
The umbrella tumbled past the last building on the block, catching the attention of a hooded figure crouched down in the alleyway. The stranger watched the umbrella pass by, then turned his attention toward Jack and the group of boys surrounding him. He emerged from the shadows and approached the group.
Three of the Henchmen grabbed Jack as Eric closed in. Jack instinctively scanned for his assailants’ potential weak points. The one holding his left arm had a foot within stomping distance. The one holding his right arm had his you-know-whats vulnerable to a quick downward strike. Even if he got knocked to the ground, Jack thought he could get in a good kick or two. In the end though, he would get pulverized. There were just too many of them.
“What’s going on here?” a voice asked with a rather thick Scottish brogue. The stranger walked through the circle of boys and stood between Eric and Jack. He pulled back his hood and looked Eric in the eye. The stranger was a head taller than Jack and half a head shorter than Eric. His clothes were drenched from the rain and sagged on his body, which was rather brawny for a teenage boy. His weathered sandy-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a rubber band.
“Who are you?” asked Eric.
The stranger just stared back at him.
Eric was slightly intimidated by this act of defiance but garnered strength from the sheer number of his friends. “This doesn’t concern you!” he asserted.
The stranger didn’t flinch one bit. “Didn’t you just ask ‘Who I am?’”
Eric looked to his gang. They were perplexed. He grew more uncomfortable and desperately clung to the notion of saving face. “Okay, who are you?”
“Your biggest problem if you don’t let him go,” said the stranger.
Eric turned to Jack. “He a friend of yours?”
“He is now,” responded Jack.
Eric didn’t know what to do. Being the predator he was, he wasn’t used to anyone turning the tables, getting in his mug and challenging him. He didn’t like it one bit. He pointed his finger at the stranger in warning. “If you know what’s good for you—” Eric’s finger touched the stranger’s chest and before he could finish his sentence, a lightning-fast right hook laid him out cold.
The Henchmen were paralyzed in disbelief. Jack was paralyzed in disbelief. The stranger looked down at Eric splayed on the sidewalk. “You’d better get him to a hospital. I’m pretty sure he’s got a concussion. Maybe a broken jaw as well.”
Artie spoke up, “What did you do that for?”
The stranger walked up to Artie. “Five of you and one of him?” he looked over at Jack. “I wanted to even things up. Maybe you’d like to have a go?”
Artie backed off and the other henchmen let go of Jack. They picked up Eric who was still out cold and dragged him to the urgent care center a few blocks away.
“I really appreciate what you did,” said Jack to the stranger.
“He had it coming and I was glad to give it to him.”
“Can I get you something to eat as a thank you? That’s the least I can do. By the way, I’m Jack, Jack Pepper.” Jack extended his hand.
“Bowie Blackwood.” He was no longer a stranger and shook hands with Jack.
“Would I be correct in saying you’re from Scotland?” asked Jack.
“Aye, lad, you’d be farnin’ the square cot.” Or at least that’s what it sounded like to Jack.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ The cafe down the block has the best burgers in town,” said Jack.
“Excellent!” said Bowie. “Lead the way!”