Frostbite

Chapter Eleven

It had continued the same way for the first year and a half of her school years—she would read in solitude, but would watch the other children play their games forlornly. She wished she was like them. She wished she wasn't so crippled by this shyness, or at least that was what she thought it was. Her tutors had said she was "antisocial". She more or less knew the meaning of that word, and didn't particularly agree with it. She was just shy. She would have liked to be social, if that meant that she could play with the other children.

On one particularly grim February day when she'd just turned seven years old, something changed. A new boy joined her class. He was scrawny and not particularly tall with unruly dark hair and sharp blue eyes. He hid at the back of the class for his entire first day, without so much as a word. He continued like that for the next week following. Eira enjoyed observing him. He reminded her of herself. She often thought— even more so than for the other children—that she would like to play a game with him. Befriend him.

Each day after class, the larger boys would tease and taunt him. Eira watched it happen from afar every time, wishing she had enough courage to stand up for the boy. She felt terribly helpless.

It went on like that for months, the jabs and the insults the boys were throwing at him ever worsening. Summer neared, but the weather didn't change. One day, just after school had ended, Eira sat at a bench outside the library's door, reading. The boy was being tormented again only a few metres away from her.

She couldn't even try to get a Tutor. They would never listen to a feeble child like her. She'd known since she began school that children's pleas were always ignored. They had no voice until they were adults, and even then, it was easy to be ignored. And not to mention the boys were out of school grounds. It was none of the Tutors' business what happened to children outside of class. That sickened Eira. Wasn't it their duty to look after their students?

The bullies kicked the small boy's shins, causing him to tumble to the ground. He let out a yelp, but didn't begin to cry, like any other child would. He never did. Despite being called weak, Eira suspected he wasn't really wasn't. He was stronger than those who taunted him and hurt him. After all, they were cowards who took their own problems out on people who had done nothing wrong, weren't they?

The largest boy whose name had escaped Eira kicked him once again, this time in the stomach. The small boy didn't scream, but he noticeably gasped for air. They'd hurt him, and badly. Those disgusting children. Did they completely lack remorse? Eira hated them. She hated them.

They kicked him in the ribs. He yelped in pain, but took it. Eira slammed her book shut with force, discarded it on the bench and marched over. She couldn't take it any longer. She couldn't see this innocent boy in pain. Even though she knew she would likely be hurt by them as well, it was better than watch, and if they focused their attention on her, then they wouldn't hurt the boy. Why hadn't she just intervened sooner?

"Leave him alone." Eira stepped between the biggest bully and the boy on the ground.

"Why should we? He's a worthless weakling. He deserves it."

"You're wrong." Eira dared to step closer, glaring each of the four large boys with hostility. "He's innocent. You're just taking out your own problems on other people. You're scum." It was something she'd read in books, but was bewildered that she'd manage to get the courage to say it aloud. To rebuke those bullies. She had never been defiant, but on the other hand, she certainly was not passive. Somehow in that moment she'd just... snapped. She looked at the boy who still lay on the ground. He was clutching his side and looking at her with wide eyes filled with a mix of astonishment, horror and gratitude.

Her statements only angered the bullies even more. They ended up beating her as well, along with the boy. After they finally grew bored and left, she and he lay on the ground panting. Eira cradled the wrist she had sprained when the boys kicked her down. No matter how strong she'd tried to be, she had still cried from the pain. The boy, however, had stayed emotionless. Stayed strong. He hadn't even uttered a sound. She wondered how he did it. Could it be that he was used to it?