"Oh, my... God..." she said, once she'd finally stopped screaming. "Oh, God..."
"Who are the boys down there who were laughing at your distress?" James asked, attempting a landing.
"Those were my... friends. Well, not exactly friends. Bullies..."
"Who bully you?"
"Yes..."
"Why do you hang around with them, then?"
"They're the only people I have. I'm usually very lonely... could you put me down now?"
James only noticed then he was still holding her.
"Oh, yes, sorry..." He blushed.
Then the boys who had been standing at the foot of the tree sauntered up to them.
One of them stepped forward; obviously the leader of the gang.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" he spat. "You sure spoiled our fun."
This boy, who looked at least 16, had short black hair gelled onto spikes and a thin, lanky figure. His face was twisted into a horrid grin.
"Heather's ours."
"Heather?"
"Yes." The girl cut in, shyly. "My name is Heather Foster."
"Well, you shouldn't have been treating her like that!" James said, suddenly angry.
"Oh! The little kid is angry!" The leader of the gang sneered.
James tried to refrain himself from acting out of violence.
He didn't want to be banished to the Land of The Undead.
But the boys kept on laughing and jeering.
Heather tried to hold back tears.
He could bear it no longer.
He saw red; and then nothing.
He woke to find himself on the floor.
All around him the gang lay somewhat deteriorated, lying helplessly sprawled around the floor.
Heather stared at him in shock and amazement.
He groaned, putting his hand on his forehead.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
