Mr Harold was the definition of harmless, wearing his vintage glasses that had lens the shape of circles. He wore a blue tie over his white button-up shirt appearing to be a typical history teacher. None would accuse the quiet teacher of being frightening but everyone should be wary of the silent ones. The loudest ones tend to have nothing to conceal, whereas the quietest people may be hiding the secret of being a wolf amongst the flock of sheep, wearing the wool of their victims. Secrets were made to spread copying a plague, infecting everyone, forcing the wolf to cure the disease through digestion. Gone was the friendly teacher of his warm laughter, now consumed by the twisting rage he held within himself. He made the skies weep, the rivers turn to deserts and the sun to run away in fear. The man strolled out of the classroom in hand with Glenn and Stacey. His tone went inhumanly deeper, almost turning into a growl when he lectured the two students trapped in his claws.

They could only lend their ears whilst their souls were dragged alongside them, attempting to escape the presence that was Mr Harold. Glenn contemplated the idea of the teacher being a monster in disguise, as Mr Harold forgot that he couldn’t gesture with his arms. Hands still holding the boy and girl, thrusting the two about. He stopped trying to make his two victims deaf, noticing that no one was lined up outside of his classroom except for Jacob leaning on the wall. The ginger boy was unnerved by the petrifying expression the teacher wore turning any to stone that dared to stare into his bloodshot eyes. Mr Harold scouted down the hallways yet not a single soul could be found except for the three people outside his classroom Glenn, Stacey and Jacob.

Mr Harold eyes reflected a more gentle look, as he asked the ginger boy, “Jacob, where are the rest of the children? They should be lined up outside here.”

Jacob said, “They ran out of the school, I think you scared them off, sir. l left beforehand not wanting to be in the dispute of children.”

Glenn looked downwards disappointed at himself for being treated like a child even amongst someone his age. Stacey, on the other hand, dealt with the comment, “Idiot, you’re a child as well.” She tried kicking Jacob but her shirt was pulled back by the teacher missing, almost landing face-first onto the floor.

Mr Harold had enough of Stacey’s mischief, as he grumbled, “Have you not learnt anything young lady, where is the girl that l was so proud of long ago?”

Her eyes rolled back propelling the teacher’s anger further beyond the continuity of space and time. He could only sigh in understanding that he was dealing with eleven-year-olds and forced his brain to work overtime on what to do next. Mr Harold thought that the life of a teacher shouldn’t be this hard but it seemed the gods had wanted excitement for their daily boredom.

Jacob grabbed the adult’s attention mentioning, “If it helps, the office ladies have probably captured them all by now."

Hope had appeared at the end of the tunnel, Mr Harold thought. Thanking the boy for the quick thinking, he gave a knowing look warning the two trouble makers to stay put before sprinting down the endless hallways of wood. Silence brewed between the three students that didn’t know what to say, letting time go by at the pace of a snail.

Glenn could no longer handle the awkwardness anymore, trying to chip away the stifling stone walls that surrounded them. “I never knew Mr Harold had it in him to yell like that.”

Stacey spun her body in a 180-degree angle, stubborn to not let herself fall into the crude conversation starter. No one replied to Glenn but he pleaded to Jacob with puppy-eyes. The boy who nobody believed was eleven tried not glimpsing at the pitiful stares thrown at him by his rival. He was meant to be someone he respected worthy of his admiration, yet he bore the looks of someone more fragile than butterfly wings. Jacob had thought he was annoying with his previous stares cast in class, on the other hand, Glenn appeared to be a master in the art of being a pest.

“I heard from Jeff that he could flip from an angel to a demon depending on the situation.” Jacob breathed out between his teeth glad the begging look was off of him, yet now it was replaced with curiosity.

Before Glenn could ask who was Jeff, Stacey sneered at the ginger boy, “Who knew the ogre could make friends with a human being?”

Another storm of a brawl was about to be unleashed but was stopped in its tracks by a certain someone. A violinist's hand is one of their treasures, essential for them to play yet Glenn threw away any care with his next actions. Bruised arms carried hands together to generate a loud clap defusing the erupting fight. Stacey and Jacob bestowed their attention onto him wondering in god's name what he was doing, as their ears had drowned out any other sound left with the fierce ringing. Pain radiated after the slap unravelling a string of stinging sensation that wrapped around his swollen palms.

Glenn smiled with bruised cheeks, “Can’t we all be friends?”

Immediately both said, “No.”

He shrugged knowing that it was a longshot for Stacey to agree after he had punched her lights out. Glenn kept the conversation on a roll as she asked, “Who’s Jeff?”

Jacob could only reply, wondering why he had to deal with these two knuckleheads, even though he was the biggest one, oozing his arrogance out with every word. “His son, now stop talking.” He glared towards the boy disguised with feminine traits.

If Glenn could smile again, he would but the pain with every facial expression made him cringe. They gazed at each other sparking an electric staring competition. Eyelids quivering in the dry air of summer feeling the intensity being cranked up with every second that passed. Jacob tried squinting but he failed, blinking in the process.

“Hahaha, I win.” Glenn gleamed with victory, shining in the light of conquering the foe of large muscles. It could only last temporarily before Stacey spoiled it, “Settle down children, ginger mophead l never knew Mr Harold had a son. Where is he?”

Jacob looked to Glenn nodding their heads in confirmation that she was ranked number one in being childish. He remembered Jeff similar to the puny boy beside him in size but had a heart pumping with the fighting spirit of a thousand men. The words, ’Beat him for me’ were still clear in his mind, the last words he spoke to Jacob.

It was a struggle to talk about Jeff but he pushed on saying, “He died a long time ago, we were friends before he had cancer. l won’t forget his last words.”

Stacey gasped in shock, a sombre cloud rained dripping the imagery of Mr Harold’s pain from losing a son. Glenn wanted to apologise for asking about Jeff but Jacob had a competitive stare that burned with a hundred suns. The three of them had their agendas, one wanting to be friends rather than enemies even after being bruised purple, another wanting to destroy his rival and the other wanting to dish out insults. At the front of the school Meadows Ridge, the talking was overtaken by the staff member’s heavy breathing, whilst they rounded up all the students that ran out. It was a peculiar sight to see many students try to escape and one of the still-standing office workers asked, “Why did you run out?” Her breath was gone now after saying such short words, trying to regain the lost air. They already knew the fight that occurred in class, hearing from other children.

A student fidgeting with his fingers said, ” Mr Harold was scary when he got angry telling us to get out. We didn’t want to face his yelling and ran.”

Speaking of the devil, foggy eyeglasses cloudy and a man perspiring from the forehead marched into the front office. It took a while for the staff ladies to recognise Mr Harold until he yelled piercing the room’s silence,”l told you kids to get out, but I didn't tell you to leave the school premises. All of you recess detention for one week!”

They groaned in agony taking steps backwards for every step the teacher took forward. The Children's collective thought of the teacher being a monster tailored in human clothing was agreed upon unanimously. He gave them second thoughts of running away with a demon’s glare dimming the children's resistance.

He said, ”What are you kids still sitting for? Stand up and follow me back to class.”

Students with no motivation heaved their bodies forwards to class fitting the image of prisoners awaiting their life sentence shackled by the warden guiding them to their cells. Some tried begging the office ladies to save them but none would be able to hide from the teacher.

One of the women still in surprise at the event simply said, “They weren’t lying when they said Mr Harold could be horrifying.”

“They get what they deserve for making us young ladies run so much.”

“That boy Glenn especially, for what he did to poor Stacey. She’s an angel.”

“Pfft an angel you say, she always played small pranks on me. Just the other day...”

Their banter halted in its tracks, noticing a woman of messy hair dressed in a green jumper stained of wine. Emma’s heart bounced back and forth within her chest, as she questioned, “Where's Glenn.. is he in big trouble?”

The staff workers all gave the woman a second look from top to bottom, wondering if they could ever look that good in such poor clothing.

"Your boy is with Mr Harold, just go down the hallway to class A-04, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much.” she dashed off with flip flops into the school.

The staff members all leaned forwards, getting a better view of the woman that ran down with clothes loosely fluttering. She rushed to the front of the classroom door meeting with a teacher holding two children that had gone to war painted in wounds. Her son bruised with purple blotches whilst the girl had a black eye blemishing her face. Emma hugged her boy inspecting every graze, feeling Glenn wince when her finger touched the bruises.

"What happened?” Emma wanted to know everything before she blasted the girl away off to the moon with her fury.

Before anyone could speak, the footsteps of a man in formal clothing encroached onto the scene. He embraced Stacey into his arms and exclaimed interrupting a few classes in their teachings, “WHO DID THIS? I’II MAKE THEM PAY!”

Emma’s face twitched slightly, her motherly instincts reacting by almost kicking the man for insinuating he would hurt her son. Nature gave Female grizzly bears the power to kill a male in times of danger threatening their children whilst it gave human women the ability to stride forward into a battle of words, slaying any in a debate.

The little girl pointed at Glenn and the man wearing a suit cut from the cloth of wealth marched over to him. Emma blocked his path intercepting with hands on her hips. She puffed out her chest mimicking a dragon about to spread fires that would ignite the man into ashes when in truth it only made him look down for a fraction of a second. He blushed hearing the words that Emma spoke noticing his gaze, “Eyes up here dickward.”

The man grew flustered mumbling on his words, ”um your son needs...needs to be punished.”

“If anyone is punishing my boy, it’ll be me.” Emma’s frosty stare could freeze hell turning it into Antarctica, as she crossed her arms.

“Look at my daughter!” The man pointed towards the quiet Stacey that hid behind the man’s leg clinging onto his pants. He was not afraid to step forward anymore, clashing against the blistering cold aura that Emma retained but she wavered at the sight of the girl with a black eye.

Although a second of hesitation crossed her mind, the faith in Glenn not being the instigator was obsolete, laughing at any who would call him a bully. Her voice was an arrow piercing through the air as it hit the target straight on, landing in the eardrums for all to hear. “Keep your mouth shut before I shove your head where it belongs.” Her son covered his ears not wanting to hear the next words of his mother. Jacob would be bowing to Emma pleading to be an apprentice of hers at the craftsmanship of cursing.

Mr Harold leapt forward quicker than ever, eyes locking onto both parents. “I will not deal with adults bickering like their children, so shut up and listen or get out.” The situation seemed to settle down with the history teacher acting as a referee. Mr Harold retold the events that led to this idiotic experience. His hands were a major distraction for the listeners, as they followed them from left to right but luckily the message had gotten through. The father of Stacey was in turmoil understanding his daughter was the perpetrator.

He said, “My name is Trevor Fischer miss..”

“Emma.” She spoke beheading the conversation of its life with her sharp eyes. Trevor faked a coughing fit, as he adjusted his clothing that appeared to feel insufferable at this moment.

The father spoke no longer on his high horse, now fallen below grovelling at the floor still trying to masquerade as a prideful man, “I apologise for accusing your boy of being the one who had started this but he is still in the wrong. Did he really need to resort to violence, hurting my girl for her innocent pranks?”

“Innocent, you must be joking. My son has had enough with bullies you hear me! l will not stand for another person to hurt his feelings.” Emma tramped forward sensing a second wave of dragon breath about to be let loose, with hands glued to her hips.

Mr Harold shoved the parents back, hinting for them to be silent so he could talk, “Both children are in the wrong, how about this? Glenn and Stacey will be given two weeks of recess detention, rather than getting a suspension.” The obvious threat made the two reluctantly agree to step off each other tails, walking away in hand with their child. Emma etched the man’s face into her mind, remembering to give him a good jolly kick to the balls if they met again.

The car drive back home was increasingly uncomfortable for son and mother, both becoming rocks with stone faces. It was a test to see who would break the silence between them first. They imagined whether this would break into a sword fight of words or a one-sided lecture done by Emma, as Glenn would hold a shield to protect himself.

“Glenn it’s..” Emma said.

“Are you..” Glenn spoke at the same time.

Glenn looked across to his mother meeting Emma’s eyes on him for only a split second before returning them to the road. They slumped into their seats throwing away the tension within the air that had fogged their minds of proper communication.

“You go first ma.”

“No, son l want to hear your side of the story first.”

He sighed and looked down to his small shoes, grazing nails across his itchy wrists. Emma waited for her son patiently to tell his story and so he did mentioning their first encounter before school when Stacey smiled when she had stolen his pencils with her pack of friends, yet he was speaking in a calm tone not affected by what had happened.

They were nearly home when Glenn finished his side of the story. She wondered if kids would ever not be mean to each other, remembering when she got teased and the nuts that were destroyed as a consequence.

Emma honestly didn't know whether to be proud or not but she did know her boy needed words of support. "I want you to know I'm not mad. Standing up for yourself was the right choice and you took my words to heart, 'You punch them and fight back', just wasn't expecting for it to be a girl."

His eyes looking outside the window watching the trees fly by, noticing the car bumped softer against the path than usual. Glenn took this opportunity to ask when the mood was silent, “Mum sometimes I wonder if I'll ever make a friend.” He wasn’t crying the way he did usually after such instances but seemed to accept the reality, which was ever more tragic for such a young boy.

Times would come when she needed to guide her son away from thoughts of solitude and Emma spoke always saying the right words wearing shining armour, ”You see the trees outside son?”

Glenn nodded seeing the blurs of trees that sped by too fast for the eye to observe turning to splotches of green and brown.

Emma said, “Can you count how many there are?”

He shook his head cutely to the side, bewildered if this was a trick question. She giggled wishing a camera was here to capture the expression aside from the shades of black embedded into his skin.

“For every tree, you see it is a person that you’ll meet. Some people will be good, others bad. You can’t care for every single individual, so you must go forward and cherish the people closest and run with them to the finish line.” Emma said hoping for her son to grasp her meaning.

"Mum would you cross the finish line with me?” Glenn pondered aloud.

“Of course silly,” Emma said with eyes smiling. She sped up the car revving the engine, letting the arrow of the speedometer strike against the highest possible number. Laughter broke into the car when she saw Glenn slam back into his seat with the wheels screeching onto the dirt path. Emma's wild cackle was contagious infecting him, as he laughed as well, watching the sun mature from young to old, falling asleep for when it will arise the next day.