Fathead had been grinning at the altercation until it seemed an insult was thrown his way. He saw Gronk slap Steve in the face. Caught unawares, Steve gave Gronk a two-handed shove in the chest. Gronk reeled backwards. A stand-off ensued as Fathead drew nearer.
“What did he say about us?” Fathead growled.
“He… he called you a rude name,” Gronk stuttered.
“No I didn’t,” Steve interjected. “I insulted you, Guido.”
Gronk flinched. That name. Why do I have that name?
“A Goodson Outsider does not have the right to slander a Bosworth boy,” Fathead snapped.
“That’s right, oaf. You take heed!” Snoops chipped in. Seriousness spread across his pockmarked face.
Steve turned to look at Snoops as Fathead slunk away and picked up a wooden plank which was leaning against a fence. Returning, he saw Steve was remonstrating with Snoops. The argument became heated. Fathead swung the plank of wood and it cracked against the back of Steve’s head. He stood no chance and hit the ground. Laying on his side, Steve took a kick to the stomach. Fathead kicked him again and again in the head until blood trickled into a pool. After the sickening thuds, an awful silence followed.
Fathead strolled away and Gronk smirked. Steve Nobody lay hurt on the ground and Gronk felt he was closer to greatness and joining this elite group of Posheys. It was a magnificent day for Gronk. The crowd of children sloped off and looked the other way. Steve lay on the tarmac and lifted his bloody head up. Unsteadily rising to his feet, some friends took him to get cleaned up. In the boys’ changing room, he splashed water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he watched a line of blood from his nose drip into the running water. Steve’s eyes narrowed. Lowering his head, he glared into the mirror. With fists clenched, the whites of his knuckles showed. This was far from over.
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