Truancy Origins Read Free

attempt any other movements, a heavy boot came to rest atop his head. It wasn’t applying much pressure yet, but the message was clear, and the boy remained still.
    â€œHey guys, looks like we’ve found ourselves one of the princes of the City!”
    â€œWhich one is it? They look the same to me.”
    â€œDon’t be stupid, this one has short hair and glasses,” a third voice snarled, this one belonging to the owner of the offending boot. “It’s obviously Umasi.”
    â€œNot Zen,” the first voice said, disappointed.
    â€œNo, not Zen,” the owner of the boot agreed. “But I can’t say that I like this one much either. He’s a real teacher’s pet. Always sucking up in class. Isn’t that right, Umasi?”
    Umasi realized that there was no right answer to the question and opted to remain silent. But even as he clamped his mouth shut, he could feel anger bubbling up inside him. It was not a rational, focused anger, but more of a general fury that he knew could prove more harmful to himself than to his assailants. Umasi forced himself to be calm, even as his silence prompted the owner of the boot to remove it from his head and instead seize a fistful of Umasi’s hair.
    â€œYour brother’s got quite an attitude, you know that?” the boy said as he yanked Umasi upright. “Thinking he can run around like he owns the school and everyone in it, just ’cause his daddy’s the Mayor. What about you? Does it run in the family?”
    Umasi shook his head stiffly, his teeth grinding against each other behind sealed lips. Tears of shock and anger ran down his face, mingling with the dirt that had rubbed onto him from the ground. This reaction produced hearty laughter from the trio.
    â€œAww, you made the baby cry!”
    â€œAnyone got some tissues?”
    â€œI think he’s had enough,” the third bully said. “I’m done wasting time here. Let’s let him off easy this time.”
    Without waiting for a response from his cohorts, the brute roughly shoved Umasi to the ground again, holding his head right above the newly formed puddle of lemonade.
    â€œYou like that stuff so much, why don’t you have some more?” the boy suggested. “Lick it up. We just want you to drink a tiny bit, and we’ll let you go.”
    Umasi remained silent, but didn’t move. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t act rationally. Just a drop of the lemonade, dirty though it might be, wouldn’t do him much harm, and would save him a world of trouble. But what was left of his pride and dignity wouldn’t allow him to do it, and with the idea of fighting back being so obviously suicidal, Umasi was paralyzed with indecision for several agonizing moments.
    â€œCome on, do it!” the boy ordered again impatiently.
    Slowly, hesitantly, Umasi lowered his head as the boys jeered behind him. He halted just above the puddle, breathing deeply to steady his nerves, fighting one last battle with himself. But he would never know what the results of that struggle might have been, for another voice chose that moment to make its presence known.
    â€œExcuse me, gentlemen, but it appears as though you’ve confused me with my brother over there.”
    The three bullies spun around, instantly forgetting all about Umasi. Sitting up shakily, Umasi turned around as well, to see the three boys staring almost dumbstruck at a fourth. The new center of attention wore a black windbreaker jacket over his gray school uniform, with matching black boots and a backpack slung over one shoulder. His sleek, dark hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, and his cold, intimidating gaze radiated both strength and menace.
    For a fleeting second Umasi saw fear on the faces of his tormentors, but it swiftly passed, replaced by dogged determination.
    â€œZen,” the first boy spat.
    â€œCorrect,” Zen agreed, leaning against the brick wall