Over the course of the following week, Derek Peters suddenly found himself being noticed. When he walked down the hallway, all the girls’ heads turned toward him puzzled — as if searching for something potent that they just couldn’t quite remember. He didn’t instantly become the life of the party, but at least people had started to say hi to him as they elbowed through. His new circumstances registered in the back of his mind, but never outright caused him to pause.
That is, until the seventh night, when he was walking back home from the library. Further up the empty street, a mousy freshman girl hugged herself against the cold in a winter coat nearly bigger than she was. Hunched forward against the wind, she didn’t notice a creaking 1980’s Oldsmobile turn unto the street.
From a couple blocks back, Derek saw the red tail lights flare up, casting strange shadows across all the nearby buildings. A couple silhouettes got out of the car, and closed on the small huddled figure ahead. Some mocking exclamations in baritone were followed by a high-pitched scream. Before he realized what he was doing, Derek found himself tossing his backpack on the lawn and sprinting into the fray.
Once he got past the bulk of the car, the circles of yellow light cast by the headlights painted a grim picture. Two seniors in university hoodies and Salvation Army rags were holding the girl down against the pavement while a third ruffled through her belongings. All were heavily intoxicated. He froze, just before breaching the glow in front of the car. After they had unearthed her wallet, iPod, and cell phone, The third guy opened his jacket and reached for his zipper.
“Don’t you dare!” Derek yelled out, again without thinking.
The aggressor froze, and his two lackeys turned toward him, jerking their captive violently in the process.
“Well, well, well. It looks like we got ourselves a good Samaritan,” one of the captors smirked, after sizing up Derek’s rather unimpressive physique.
“Shall we show him what happens to good Samaritans?” the other asked, as the aggressor stalked toward Derek.
When the aggressor got within range, Derek took a wild swing that the older boy easily sidestepped. Still off-balance from his lunge, the return punch caught him square in the gut before he even had time to think. His lackeys dropped the girl, who was outright sobbing by this point, to the pavement and hurried over to joint in the beating.
And then the kicks came at Derek from all angles. Utterly helpless, he crouched into the fetal position and formed a protective ball. Just when he thought he could take no more, he found himself being lifted into the air. One of the boys punched him hard in the gut again for good measure, and then the other two swung him back and forth with increasing force before letting go.
For a moment, Derek was airborne. Then, he hit the frozen pavement with a horrible thud. Behind him, he heard three car doors open and slam shut, the whine of an engine sputtering to life in the cold, and then the squeal of tires fading into the distance.
He rolled over bumped against something warm and soft. The cushioned impact was accompanied by a whimper that was not his own. Barely conscious, Derek couldn’t muster the strength to slide over. The small part of his brain that wasn’t ringing with agony hoped that he wasn’t crushing the girl he’d taken the beating trying to save.
Slowly, he felt the warm padded mass slide out from under him, and the back of his head dropped the last inch to the freezing blacktop. In the moments that followed, he was reminded how cold the night truly was.
And then the stars were blotted out by the mousy girl’s face, dark hair and eyebrows set against sickly pale skin, heavily blemished by the scrapes and quickly forming bruises left from the attack. She lowered herself gently down onto him, and hugged him with the entirety of her being. Heat radiated down from his head to his knees, where the toes of her boots fell off each to a side. At first her embrace was as feeble as he felt, but the longer she held on the firmer it got. At first he thought it was his imagination, but abruptly she pulled back a bit and stared again into his face, this time quite intently. As he watched, the bruises on her face faded and the scratches and scrapes began to heal. Soon, a rosy color burst into her cheeks.
“What’s happening to me?” she asked, in an awed yet somewhat concerned.
Derek didn’t know and was still in too much agony to think about it.
“You’ve found yourself where you’re meant to be,” he croaked out, and passed out.
She fell back against him, shielding his battered and exposed frame with her warm. Had he still been aware of his surrounding, he would have felt the heels of her boots drift a couple inches further down his legs.
Leave a Reply