Part-3

  Dread pooled in James' stomach as he rouhe er on his way home. There, illuminated by a flickering streetmp, was a se straight out of his nightmares. The familiar group of bullies, led by the hulking Lemon, had ered Emdad in a dingy alleyway. Emdad, his new iPhone clutched protectively to his chest, cowered under Lemon's menag gre.

  "Hand it over, fatty," Lemon sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "That phone practically screams for an upgrade."

  James' heart hammered against his ribs. He knew he should turn back, disappear into the shadoretend he hadn't seen anything. But the image of Emdad, his usually boisterous personality reduced to a whimper, sparked a flicker of defiahin James. He couldn't just stand by.

  Taking a deep breath he made a phone call to certain someohen James stepped forward, his voice surprisingly steady despite his rag pulse. "Hey! What's going on here?"

  All heads turowards him. Lemon, t over James by a good six inches, narrowed his eyes. A cruel smile stretched across his face. "Who are you, twerp? This ain't your business."

  James squared his shoulders, trying to proje air of fidence he didirely feel. "It bees my business when you're pig on someone," he retorted. "Leave him alone."

  The other bullies snickered, a chorus of jeers erupting from the group. James felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He khis was a mistake, but there was n baow.

  Lemon's amusement faded, repced by a cold fury. "Listen here, pipsqueak," he growled, taking a menag step towards James. "This is between me and Fatty here. You better scram before you get hurt."

  Adrenaline surged through James, momentarily drowning out the tremor in his voice. "No," he insisted, surprising even himself with his resolve. "You're pig on him because he's easy prey. That's not okay. And what about the girls yesterday? Were they easy prey too?"

  Lemon's eyes narrowed. "What are you yapping about, nerd?" he snarled.

  "You think you just walk around, taking whatever you want?" James tinued, his voice gaining strength with each word. "This isn't some kind of video game where you get points for bullying people. This is real life, and it hurts."

  One of Lemon's ies, a skinny boy with a cruel glint in his eye, piped up. "Yeah, what are you gonna do about it, twerp?"

  James met his gaze. "I'm going to stand up for what's right," he decred. "Maybe you all should try it sometime."

  Lemon's face torted with rage. "Shut your mouth, nerd!" he roared, ung himself towards James with a fist aimed for his fabsp;

  Years ago, James' father, a former martial arts enthusiast, had patiently drilled some basic self-defeeiques into him. The lessons, mostly ignored and fotten in the faore pressing academic pursuits, now flickered back to life in James' mind. Almost on autopilot, his arms shot up in a rudimentary block, forearms crossed to form a barrier just in time. The siing thud of bone against flesh echoed in the narrow alleyway as Lemon's fist ected with James' defenses. Paihrough James' arms, a white-hot shock that threateo buckle his knees. But he held firm, the impact thankfully gng off his forearms rather than nding squarely on his face. Lemon, surprised by the ued resistaumbled back a few steps, momentarily stuhe world seemed to slow down for James, the rain a hazy curtain around him. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Bullies weren't supposed to be met with resistance, and nerds certainly weren't supposed to block punches.