“The way I see it, he has it coming.”
Frank watched Danny from his perch sitting atop the four-foot high cinder-block retaining wall at the edge of the outdoor lunch area. To his left and his right sat Artur and Sam. Both nodded obediently.
“I think he found his clothes at a clown shop,” Artur suggested, and Frank tended to agree. Danny’s shirt was striped with multiple colors. His blond hair was sticking out as if he’d been electrocuted.
“That looks like a clown shirt,” Sam added.
Frank chuckled at that, “HA! Clown shirt.”
Artur and Sam copied his laugh.
“I think he wants people to mock him,“ Frank decided.
“Definitely,” Artur agreed.
Danny sat alone on the opposite wall on the other side of the lunch area, beyond four rows of tables. He quietly ate a sandwich out of a bag and watched Frank from afar.
“THAT LOOKS LIKE A CLOWN SHIRT!” Frank shouted.
In response, Danny waved and took another bite.
“He’s asking for it,” Artur decided.
“Asking for it,” Sam repeated.
Frank hopped down from the wall. Artur and Sam followed him around the tables until they reached Danny.
“Did you hear what I said?” Frank asked, “Clown shirt.”
Danny kept nibbling but didn’t answer.
“Your shirt’s so bright, it makes me want to hit you.”
Danny didn’t stop nibbling. They both knew Frank wouldn’t hit him in the middle of school.
“It really makes me want to hit you,“ Frank said again, lowering his voice as a teacher walked by.
Uncharacteristically, Danny smiled at him. “Maybe you should,” he said quietly.
Danny rarely said a word, so his response was almost a surprise.
Frank thought he might be trying to start something, but that would have to wait.
“Maybe I will,” he answered, then turned and reclaimed his spot on the far wall with Artur and Sam.
“You’re right,” Frank told Artur, watching Danny finish his sandwich like he wasn’t worried at all.
“Right?”
“He is asking for it.”
Normally, Frank could make Danny flinch just by looking at him. If he took one step toward Danny on the way home, he’d run away in fear. And if he caught Danny, there would be crying even before he gave him his regular punch in the stomach.
But Danny was acting strange, and Frank didn’t like it.
“Isn’t he supposed to be smart?” Sam asked, “because that’s not smart, dressing like that.”
“Not smart,” Artur echoed.
Usually, Danny hid when he thought something was up.
But this time, Danny might as well have been waving a flag.
Frank felt that something wasn’t right. Danny was dressing like a clown for a reason—he was sure of it. He just couldn’t figure out why.
But he’d make Danny tell.
After school.
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