Young Writers Society

A school bell rung. A group of uniformed boys dashed out of a pristinely kept school. Rain fell from an overcast sky, but it didn't deter them. Nothing except their uniforms united them; they were a mix of races, height, and physique. All the students in high school except a single little boy. �Go away Chester! Go play with your friends!� yelled one boy. �No. Let him come,� said another. Chester beamed as they walked along the street, then took a sudden right down an alley and to a hole in the ground. The boys dropped down and began walking through the unused sewer tunnel. The sewer had about an inch of water from the rain and was pitch black. The boys romped along the tunnel and twisted and turned along the underground network until, one by one, they climbed another rusting ladder and out of their secret passage. Warm rays of sunlight greeted them as the posse stood in the middle of a street that was more pothole than road. Old and boarded buildings loomed around them as Chester, who was rather chubby, slowly huffed and puffed his way out and collapsed on the faded gray pavement. �Come on Chester! You're lucky Jeff let you come. Don't keep him waiting,� urged a boy who looked very much like him, only older. Chester flopped out and onto the pavement. His brother offered a hand. Chester took it in his own and pulled himself up. �Thanks Timothy.� Jeff, the obvious leader, began weaving a path along the road, which was in obvious disrepair. It was more potholes than pavement. Litter and rotting piles of garbage bags were everywhere. After ten minutes of winding streets, they stopped at a chain link fence. Jeff pointed to Timothy, then the fence. Timothy dutifully ran to pull back a corner of the fence, a space big enough for one boy to go at a time. Careful to not dirty their white shirts and wear out the knees on their maroon pants, boy after boy wiggled through on hands and toes. They regrouped, and began walking along a narrow cobblestone path surrounded by thick weeds. They were in a common area between a row of houses and another. Once happy places, the homes were faded in color and many roofs were caved in. A skinny cat slinked out of one, and ran away as one delinquent took a kick at it. The boys laughed and jeered, taking obvious pleasure in the feline's poor condition. �Hey Jeff,� said Chester innocently. �What are we going to do today?� Jeff stopped. He smiled wickedly. He turned and said with patronizing sweetness, �Would you like to join our little group and play with us?� Chester nodded enthusiastically. Jeff led the way out of the commons and through a rotting wooden garden gate. A rose bush had once been the main attraction in the yard's flower garden; now it was a dense thicket of inch long thorns. All the boys except Chester took out pocket knives and carefully cut off yard long lengths of the vines. Then they carefully trimmed away thorns and wrapped the end in their handkerchiefs. Timothy wordlessly handed one to Chester, without taking off the thorns. Chester carefully held it between his thumb and index finger. His expression was dazed. What would they do with these? He looked up and realized the guys had surrounded him. �Chester, would you like to join our little group and play with us?� repeated Jeff. Chester nodded dumbly. �We have to initiate you first.� Chester felt a stinging blow across his face, then warm blood streak from his forehead and into his mouth. Falling to his knees, he clutched the wound with both hands, and dropped the vine they had given him. �Stand up you big baby! Fight like a man!� jeered one cruel faced boy. The others snickered and let him get to his feet. With an explosive shout in unison, the children beat upon Chester with relentless blows. He could not run, blinded with pain. The vines were just long enough to keep him at bay, so his fists were useless. Groping in desperation, he grabbed the rose vine they had given him. He felt piercing blade go through his hand and dimly saw it come through on the other side. With a roar, he attempted to fight the onslaught. It was to no avail. He again collapsed and the boys began to kick him. All he could do was whimper and try to block out the searing pain. Right before he blacked out, he could hear them spitting on him... and his brother Timothy laughing in pure delight.