William froze. Mike Kevinson! Surely he would help him out of this sticky situation?
"H-h-hello, sir," stuttered William. He was very nervous, and yet certain that he would be saved.
Mike was joined by two other policemen. One was short, bulky, and kept grunting under his breath. The other was tall and lanky.
"We need to check out your involvement in Albert's death," said Mike Kevinson, leading them all down the corridor. They took several flights of stairs in silence; Mike did not trust lifts. Finally - two of them out of breath - they reached William's dormitory.
Mike Kevinson already had a key for the room, a fact William already handled with great suspicion. "Right, we won't be long," he told William. The fat policeman gave a pig-like snigger, and the lanky one elbowed him in the gut.
They all entered the room. Mike Kevinson glanced around, from time to time puffing from his perpetual cigarette. His facial expression turned from amusement (William's anime posters) to disgust, as his eyes met the ground. William looked down too.
Next to a pile of science textbooks, lay a tousled heap of black feathers.
"Oh no... now I'm really in it..." thought William.
"Explain these, please, William," demanded Mike.
"I don't know, honestly, I'm sorry, I -"
"TELL THE TRUTH! DO AS I SAY!" Mike had suddenly discarded his cigarette, and in the midst of his fury, stomped it on the carpet.
William cowered in terror. "I really don't know, seriously, sir." By this point, he was covered in beads of sweat, wondering if he would be expelled for this unfair accusation, and then his life would get even worse. If that was indeed possible.
"Fine, forget it." Mike seemed resigned to the fact that William was not going to give him a satisfactory answer.
William breathed a sigh of relief. But just when he thought he could relax...
"Can we have a look at your diary?" Mike Kevinson asked. He kept his gaze fixed on William, and as he did so, he took a drag on his cigarette. It was not three seconds later, when he comically - and totally unconsciously - opened a small corner of his mouth to exhale.
Appalled, William cried, "No! that's personal!"
Mike gave a sneer. "Got something to hide, eh?"
"Nothing but the hormonal confessions of a teenage boy!"
"Confessions, eh?" Mike raised an eyebrow, and took another long drag.
"Aaaargh! I can't take this!" shrieked William. "Blame me if you so wish, but I guarantee that those stupid... feathers... will get you nowhere!" With that, he slammed the door and left, to the peaceful school gardens, where he could clear his mind.
"That went well," Mike Kevinson pondered aloud. "The boy's right. No evidence against him here."
"Yeah," agreed the lanky policeman.
"Uhhhhh," nodded the fat one, and his stomach gave a tremendous grumble.
Thursday 23 October 2008
Tuesday 21 October 2008
Fatality: William is Instantly Blamed
Five years passed; William traversed the rocky roads of puberty with little success. He kept out of trouble as much as he could. Although on occasion he was still hounded by bullies, Albert, his monobrowed nemesis, had developed a paralysing fear of black birds, and thus was stopped in his tracks many a time. Howeber, William was unable to permanently evade the grasp of his bullies, and often came a-cropper.
You see, by this age, William was really something of a nerd. Pokemon had become too uncool even for him, and so he buried himself in the digestion of manga of all origins and genres. He even read shounen ai, for want of other material. He also occupied himself in his study, and by the age of sixteen was indeed fluent in both Japanese and English, written and otherwise. Although of coure these skills were virtually useless, since no one would talk to him.
One day, February 2nd 2007 in fact, was what would later be engraved upon his mind as an unforgettable date. He was studying alone in the library, working hard so that he could complete all of his exams early and thus go to university. Albert, that monobrowed meanie, being quite a failure in the field of mathematics, had spent all of his lunch money on a dirty magazine and thus was now unable to purchase food for his ever-expanding stomach (a key feature of many diabolical bullies; but do not be fooled, at least part of this flab was really muscle in disguse). As a direct result of this, Albert went to the library, to seek out that moneybag known to all as William Xiu.
"Oi, William!" He called out provokingly, as an inefficient librarian flitted around trying to shush him. "How much money do you have today?"
Now, this really was an unfortunate situation. William, you see, had been saving up. He wanted to buy the Complete Edgar Allen Poe in English, but that was rather pricey in China, and import costs were not much better. He had been saving up for a while, eating as little as possible (the training of his infant years proved to be essential here), in order to afford it; and today he had finally gathered the correct amount. Today he intended to purchase that book.
"Just... the usual, Albert." William replied timidly, hoping that his lie was not too obvious.
"Give us your wallet, then." Albert retorted, and with a sigh of despair and a sinking feeling, William removed said object from his pocket. It clinked tellingly, and Albert smirked. He snatchd it out of William's hand and looked inside.
"Oh ho ho!" He said. "Oh ho ho! Just the usual? This will do very nicely."
And with that, he walked out of the library, leaving William sunk at the bottom of his hope, unable even to raise a shudder of disappointment. He had so been looking forward to that book.
Several hours later, William finally left the library, although he now saw no reason in hurrying anywhere; after all, the bookshop was out, and his route to his dormitory would take him straight past the very door of that most hated boy, Albert. Alas, being a friendless nerd he soon ran out of any other options, and had to turn his steps in that feared direction. Just as he was passing Albert's room he grew very tense, hoping that Albert or another of his cronies would not exit the room and see him there; but instead a shrill, loud shout burst through the air, making him jump almost out of his skin. He thought nothing of it however, and hurried on his way, wanting to be as far from Albert as possible.
Others had heard the scream, though, and they soon came running to find the source. After some knocking on the door, which was unanswered, one enterprising young lad saw fit to kick his way into the room. William had unfortunately been grabbed by one of Albert's friends as he tried to get away, and thus was forced to stand and watch. A horrified call beckoned the bystanders closer, including the one that still had hold of William; and so it was that he, too, saw the terrible sight of the corpse of Albert. His eyes were missing, his throat was a bloody mess, and his clothes were ripped all over. On the floor nearby lay a solitary black feather.
"IT WAS HIM!" The original explorer shouted in deathly tones, turning to point at William; and all those around him moved away, as if he might kill them where he stood. He swallowed nervously, becoming quite pale in the face, and attempted to shake his head in denial; but it was no good. They were quite certain as to who was responsible.
*
A matter of not many hours later, and a visitor arrived at the school. He greeted the headteacher, who immediately grew angry at said visitor's use of a cigarette. He had had a new no-smoking sign installed in his office, and as the visitor stood before him he tapped this sign pointedly.
"Baka," The visitor muttered; this, as I am sure our learned readers will know, being the Japanese word for 'idiot'. The visitor left the office, and headed for his destination.
William sat glumly in a study room, near the library. A knock at the door caused him to lift his head, and a wave of fear swept through him. Perhaps now he would be taken away.
"Hello? William Xiu?" A voice called out. "May I enter?"
Swallowing in trepidation, William stood and approached the door. Wondering briefly what would happen if he refused, he pushed this notion away and turned the handle. As the door swung inwards, he looked into a face he recognised well. The Japanese accent of a charming voice filled the room.
"Hello, William. You may remember me. My name is Inspector Mike Kevinson."
You see, by this age, William was really something of a nerd. Pokemon had become too uncool even for him, and so he buried himself in the digestion of manga of all origins and genres. He even read shounen ai, for want of other material. He also occupied himself in his study, and by the age of sixteen was indeed fluent in both Japanese and English, written and otherwise. Although of coure these skills were virtually useless, since no one would talk to him.
One day, February 2nd 2007 in fact, was what would later be engraved upon his mind as an unforgettable date. He was studying alone in the library, working hard so that he could complete all of his exams early and thus go to university. Albert, that monobrowed meanie, being quite a failure in the field of mathematics, had spent all of his lunch money on a dirty magazine and thus was now unable to purchase food for his ever-expanding stomach (a key feature of many diabolical bullies; but do not be fooled, at least part of this flab was really muscle in disguse). As a direct result of this, Albert went to the library, to seek out that moneybag known to all as William Xiu.
"Oi, William!" He called out provokingly, as an inefficient librarian flitted around trying to shush him. "How much money do you have today?"
Now, this really was an unfortunate situation. William, you see, had been saving up. He wanted to buy the Complete Edgar Allen Poe in English, but that was rather pricey in China, and import costs were not much better. He had been saving up for a while, eating as little as possible (the training of his infant years proved to be essential here), in order to afford it; and today he had finally gathered the correct amount. Today he intended to purchase that book.
"Just... the usual, Albert." William replied timidly, hoping that his lie was not too obvious.
"Give us your wallet, then." Albert retorted, and with a sigh of despair and a sinking feeling, William removed said object from his pocket. It clinked tellingly, and Albert smirked. He snatchd it out of William's hand and looked inside.
"Oh ho ho!" He said. "Oh ho ho! Just the usual? This will do very nicely."
And with that, he walked out of the library, leaving William sunk at the bottom of his hope, unable even to raise a shudder of disappointment. He had so been looking forward to that book.
Several hours later, William finally left the library, although he now saw no reason in hurrying anywhere; after all, the bookshop was out, and his route to his dormitory would take him straight past the very door of that most hated boy, Albert. Alas, being a friendless nerd he soon ran out of any other options, and had to turn his steps in that feared direction. Just as he was passing Albert's room he grew very tense, hoping that Albert or another of his cronies would not exit the room and see him there; but instead a shrill, loud shout burst through the air, making him jump almost out of his skin. He thought nothing of it however, and hurried on his way, wanting to be as far from Albert as possible.
Others had heard the scream, though, and they soon came running to find the source. After some knocking on the door, which was unanswered, one enterprising young lad saw fit to kick his way into the room. William had unfortunately been grabbed by one of Albert's friends as he tried to get away, and thus was forced to stand and watch. A horrified call beckoned the bystanders closer, including the one that still had hold of William; and so it was that he, too, saw the terrible sight of the corpse of Albert. His eyes were missing, his throat was a bloody mess, and his clothes were ripped all over. On the floor nearby lay a solitary black feather.
"IT WAS HIM!" The original explorer shouted in deathly tones, turning to point at William; and all those around him moved away, as if he might kill them where he stood. He swallowed nervously, becoming quite pale in the face, and attempted to shake his head in denial; but it was no good. They were quite certain as to who was responsible.
*
A matter of not many hours later, and a visitor arrived at the school. He greeted the headteacher, who immediately grew angry at said visitor's use of a cigarette. He had had a new no-smoking sign installed in his office, and as the visitor stood before him he tapped this sign pointedly.
"Baka," The visitor muttered; this, as I am sure our learned readers will know, being the Japanese word for 'idiot'. The visitor left the office, and headed for his destination.
William sat glumly in a study room, near the library. A knock at the door caused him to lift his head, and a wave of fear swept through him. Perhaps now he would be taken away.
"Hello? William Xiu?" A voice called out. "May I enter?"
Swallowing in trepidation, William stood and approached the door. Wondering briefly what would happen if he refused, he pushed this notion away and turned the handle. As the door swung inwards, he looked into a face he recognised well. The Japanese accent of a charming voice filled the room.
"Hello, William. You may remember me. My name is Inspector Mike Kevinson."
Wednesday 15 October 2008
High school: William is caught unawares
Finally, after a nine-year plight at the boarding school, William was relieved to go to high school, the place of dreams.
The Academy of Avernus was eager to accept William - his grades were flawless, because he had not had a social life. Moreover, he had received a scholarship, which was funded from his father's will.
Sitting on his own wooden desk in his first Japanese lesson, a language he knew he would enjoy for years to come, William felt contented until he suddenly smelled burning. He glanced around the room, but nobody else seemed to have clocked that apparently, somebody had left biscuits in the oven for too long.
"May I go to the toilet, sir?" William put his hand up, and asked meekly.
"Be hasty," replied the master.
Down the corridor, William followed the burning smell as best he could. He was led to the room where many chemicals for science lessons were stored. He did not yet realise that he was putting himself in a lot of danger. Pushing open the door, William found himself face to face with several bottles of liquid, labelled with the radioactive or skull symbols. And behind them, an inferno burned. The odour it gave off was such that it forced William to pull the front of his jumper over his nose and mouth. It was spreading quickly, and William jumped when a roof-beam fell off.
"Oh no..." it occurred to William that it would get very hard to escape this situation.
Alas! As bricks started falling, William made a dash for the door. He did not know whether to be surprised, horrified, or indifferent when he saw the same thing happen in the corridor. High-pitched fire alarms started to sound, and William ran. Students came pouring out of classroms, down the stairs, onto the schoolyard.
By the time William reached the schoolyard with the thousand-strong crowd, the school was already in ruins. The flock of crows fleeing through the billowing smoke created a dramatic contrast. However, he seemed to be the only one who had not grabbed their possessions in the rush. They had both their possessions and their lives; he had only the latter.
With no majestic school building, the headmaster announced that they would temporarily be using the former district leisure centre as a base for education.
William took his Japanese class in what was formerly a changing room. Needless to say, the subject did not excite him nearly as much. It was cold in there, and the benches were hard. Nobody at all was motivated. In fact, the most invigorating thing that happened that particular day, was the moment that Inspector Mike Kevinson first poked his head around the door.
He stood tall, well-built, in his early twenties, and dressed in black, under the doorway; an undeniably attractive man. His shiny dark hair was swept by the wind, and his face sharply cheekboned and stubbled. Between his fingers, he held a cigarette.
"Excuse me," quipped the school's stout headteacher, who had suddenly appeared behind this brooding hunk, "could you put that cigarette out, please? Health and safety regulations..."
Mike Kevinson ignored him.
Instead, he proceeded to walk forward and say, in - coincidentally - a Japanese accent, "an audience with William Xiu, please."
William, sitting on the bench shuddering with cold, began to tremble with fear. What on earth would this intimidatingly handsome man want with him, possibly the nerdiest high-school child in south-eastern China? Nervously, he got up from the cold, hard bench.
Outside the classroom, Mike Kevinson subjected him to an icy, long glare. William raised his eyebrows, and was then led to a room that had comfortable-looking chairs, but a decor lacking personality. They sat down.
After a silence of about one minute, William cried, "what do you want from me?!"
Mike Kevinson, whom nobody had noticed bin his cigarette, got a packet - Lucky Crows - out of his pocket, extracted a new one, and lit it.
"I want to ask you about what has just happened to your school."
William looked puzzled. "Erm... it burnt down, sir?"
"Well, obviously. This is what I meant. William, did you have anything to do with it?"
"No."
"Are you sure? You can tell me."
"I'm sure. With all due respect, sir, I want to resume class. I like Japanese a lot. I hope to visit Japan one day."
Mike Kevinson took a drag on his cigarette. He scratched the back of his neck, averting the gaze of his interrogee for a moment, then looked back at him with his expressive eyes. "It's nice there. You can probably already tell I'm Japanese. Grew up in Kyoto."
"Wow! Lucky!" William was filled with glee. Perhaps he could make friends with Mike, and he'd show him round Japan, it would be so cool, and -
Three short, sharp knocks at the door. It was the headmaster, holding a cup of tea. "Time's up,Inspector Kevinson."
"Alright. I've got all the information I need."
William smiled, thanked Mike Kevinson, then left. When the headmaster was certain that William was out of earshot, he hissed, "I thought I told you - no smoking on the school premises."
"Very well," said Mike Kevinson. With that, he dropped the still-red cigarette into the headmaster's cup of tea, and left.
The Academy of Avernus was eager to accept William - his grades were flawless, because he had not had a social life. Moreover, he had received a scholarship, which was funded from his father's will.
Sitting on his own wooden desk in his first Japanese lesson, a language he knew he would enjoy for years to come, William felt contented until he suddenly smelled burning. He glanced around the room, but nobody else seemed to have clocked that apparently, somebody had left biscuits in the oven for too long.
"May I go to the toilet, sir?" William put his hand up, and asked meekly.
"Be hasty," replied the master.
Down the corridor, William followed the burning smell as best he could. He was led to the room where many chemicals for science lessons were stored. He did not yet realise that he was putting himself in a lot of danger. Pushing open the door, William found himself face to face with several bottles of liquid, labelled with the radioactive or skull symbols. And behind them, an inferno burned. The odour it gave off was such that it forced William to pull the front of his jumper over his nose and mouth. It was spreading quickly, and William jumped when a roof-beam fell off.
"Oh no..." it occurred to William that it would get very hard to escape this situation.
Alas! As bricks started falling, William made a dash for the door. He did not know whether to be surprised, horrified, or indifferent when he saw the same thing happen in the corridor. High-pitched fire alarms started to sound, and William ran. Students came pouring out of classroms, down the stairs, onto the schoolyard.
By the time William reached the schoolyard with the thousand-strong crowd, the school was already in ruins. The flock of crows fleeing through the billowing smoke created a dramatic contrast. However, he seemed to be the only one who had not grabbed their possessions in the rush. They had both their possessions and their lives; he had only the latter.
With no majestic school building, the headmaster announced that they would temporarily be using the former district leisure centre as a base for education.
William took his Japanese class in what was formerly a changing room. Needless to say, the subject did not excite him nearly as much. It was cold in there, and the benches were hard. Nobody at all was motivated. In fact, the most invigorating thing that happened that particular day, was the moment that Inspector Mike Kevinson first poked his head around the door.
He stood tall, well-built, in his early twenties, and dressed in black, under the doorway; an undeniably attractive man. His shiny dark hair was swept by the wind, and his face sharply cheekboned and stubbled. Between his fingers, he held a cigarette.
"Excuse me," quipped the school's stout headteacher, who had suddenly appeared behind this brooding hunk, "could you put that cigarette out, please? Health and safety regulations..."
Mike Kevinson ignored him.
Instead, he proceeded to walk forward and say, in - coincidentally - a Japanese accent, "an audience with William Xiu, please."
William, sitting on the bench shuddering with cold, began to tremble with fear. What on earth would this intimidatingly handsome man want with him, possibly the nerdiest high-school child in south-eastern China? Nervously, he got up from the cold, hard bench.
Outside the classroom, Mike Kevinson subjected him to an icy, long glare. William raised his eyebrows, and was then led to a room that had comfortable-looking chairs, but a decor lacking personality. They sat down.
After a silence of about one minute, William cried, "what do you want from me?!"
Mike Kevinson, whom nobody had noticed bin his cigarette, got a packet - Lucky Crows - out of his pocket, extracted a new one, and lit it.
"I want to ask you about what has just happened to your school."
William looked puzzled. "Erm... it burnt down, sir?"
"Well, obviously. This is what I meant. William, did you have anything to do with it?"
"No."
"Are you sure? You can tell me."
"I'm sure. With all due respect, sir, I want to resume class. I like Japanese a lot. I hope to visit Japan one day."
Mike Kevinson took a drag on his cigarette. He scratched the back of his neck, averting the gaze of his interrogee for a moment, then looked back at him with his expressive eyes. "It's nice there. You can probably already tell I'm Japanese. Grew up in Kyoto."
"Wow! Lucky!" William was filled with glee. Perhaps he could make friends with Mike, and he'd show him round Japan, it would be so cool, and -
Three short, sharp knocks at the door. It was the headmaster, holding a cup of tea. "Time's up,Inspector Kevinson."
"Alright. I've got all the information I need."
William smiled, thanked Mike Kevinson, then left. When the headmaster was certain that William was out of earshot, he hissed, "I thought I told you - no smoking on the school premises."
"Very well," said Mike Kevinson. With that, he dropped the still-red cigarette into the headmaster's cup of tea, and left.
Sunday 5 October 2008
Bullies: One gets his comeuppance
November 5th, 1997
It was around this time that, in a turn of events that seemed at first to be fortuitous, William's father finally succumbed to a long and unavoidable illness.
"William," He said, lying on his deathbed; "What I have, you see, son, is cancer. Cancer of the lungs. Therefore I am sending you away to a boarding school, you know. It is called Chao Cheng, after the man who founded it, and you will stay there until you are at least eighteen years old."
With this utterance, he died. It was never revealed to William the cause of his cancer: too many nights spent in smoky strip joints, instead of looking after William.
Although William at first thought it quite a godsend that he would no longer have to attend the old school, he soon realised two awful things: one, that he would have to stay in the same place, unavoidably, for the next eleven years; and two, that Bessie, his only (unreliable) ally, would not be accompanying him, since it was a boarding school for boys.
After a short and solemn funeral, to which absolutely no one but William attended, the last of his things were packed up and he was sent away from his home, with the promise that at eighteen he might return and use it as his home once more.
On his arrival at Chao Cheng School, William immediately noticed that almost all of the boys there were richer and more agile and stronger than he was; putting two and two together, he deduced that perhaps he should keep his head quite firmly down, since he already had quite a lot of experience with this sort of boy. Unfortunately, Chao Cheng School was quite renowned as one of the best in the area, and after some disturbing reports of bullying the father of a certain other boy had decided to enroll him. And so it was that William, wandering the corridors in an aimless and lost sort of way, soon came face to face once more with the disturbing monobrow of his bully.
For quite some weeks, the bully stayed away from William, in order to increase his own popularity, and soon he had a little gang of friends. These bullies did not like William at all; in fact, not many people did - he was quite, quite friendless. Try as he might, no one would give him so much as a smile. He was forced instead to spend his time with Pokemon and their ilk, wasting hours evolving doduos into dotrios, spearows into fearows, pidgeys into pidgeottos. He could not even persuade his fellow players to trade so much as an ekans for his illegally-gained mew. To make matters worse, the bullies were waiting wherever he went, to push and shove and call him names.
William did not think there would be any way out of this; he even stopped praying for it to end. Until, that is, the events of November 15th, 1997. At seven years old he was already branded a nerd or a geek, playing too many video games, and spending all the rest of his time concentrating on study. It was at this point that a particularly disturbing incident occured.
"Got my money, William?" The monobrowed bully asked, a phrase which had become merely habitual to him. William handed it over without a word, and the bully quickly slapped him round the face for good measure before heading off, chortling, with his friends.
"Do you want to go get some sweets now?" One of his cohorts asked; but the bully shrugged.
"I think I'll go to my dorm for a bit." He replied casually. He was intending to eat the secret cake he had stolen earlier from the cooks, and did not want the others to know about this. They parted ways, as William watched them warily from some distance away.
It was around this time that, in a turn of events that seemed at first to be fortuitous, William's father finally succumbed to a long and unavoidable illness.
"William," He said, lying on his deathbed; "What I have, you see, son, is cancer. Cancer of the lungs. Therefore I am sending you away to a boarding school, you know. It is called Chao Cheng, after the man who founded it, and you will stay there until you are at least eighteen years old."
With this utterance, he died. It was never revealed to William the cause of his cancer: too many nights spent in smoky strip joints, instead of looking after William.
Although William at first thought it quite a godsend that he would no longer have to attend the old school, he soon realised two awful things: one, that he would have to stay in the same place, unavoidably, for the next eleven years; and two, that Bessie, his only (unreliable) ally, would not be accompanying him, since it was a boarding school for boys.
After a short and solemn funeral, to which absolutely no one but William attended, the last of his things were packed up and he was sent away from his home, with the promise that at eighteen he might return and use it as his home once more.
On his arrival at Chao Cheng School, William immediately noticed that almost all of the boys there were richer and more agile and stronger than he was; putting two and two together, he deduced that perhaps he should keep his head quite firmly down, since he already had quite a lot of experience with this sort of boy. Unfortunately, Chao Cheng School was quite renowned as one of the best in the area, and after some disturbing reports of bullying the father of a certain other boy had decided to enroll him. And so it was that William, wandering the corridors in an aimless and lost sort of way, soon came face to face once more with the disturbing monobrow of his bully.
For quite some weeks, the bully stayed away from William, in order to increase his own popularity, and soon he had a little gang of friends. These bullies did not like William at all; in fact, not many people did - he was quite, quite friendless. Try as he might, no one would give him so much as a smile. He was forced instead to spend his time with Pokemon and their ilk, wasting hours evolving doduos into dotrios, spearows into fearows, pidgeys into pidgeottos. He could not even persuade his fellow players to trade so much as an ekans for his illegally-gained mew. To make matters worse, the bullies were waiting wherever he went, to push and shove and call him names.
William did not think there would be any way out of this; he even stopped praying for it to end. Until, that is, the events of November 15th, 1997. At seven years old he was already branded a nerd or a geek, playing too many video games, and spending all the rest of his time concentrating on study. It was at this point that a particularly disturbing incident occured.
"Got my money, William?" The monobrowed bully asked, a phrase which had become merely habitual to him. William handed it over without a word, and the bully quickly slapped him round the face for good measure before heading off, chortling, with his friends.
"Do you want to go get some sweets now?" One of his cohorts asked; but the bully shrugged.
"I think I'll go to my dorm for a bit." He replied casually. He was intending to eat the secret cake he had stolen earlier from the cooks, and did not want the others to know about this. They parted ways, as William watched them warily from some distance away.
The bully returned to his room, as he had promised; but things there were not well. On his bed, the once carefully-wrapped-in-a-towel cake was lying, open, half-consumed, with crumbs scattered every which way about. The bully's first thought was that someone had broken into the room and stolen some of his cake! At first he intended to complain to the headmaster, before he realised that he had in fact stolen it in the first place, and therefore had not a leg to stand on.
At this point, therefore, he began to look about him for evidence of the perpretrator. (Do not be fooled; our bully does not and never will understand the word "perpetrator". He simply thinks of several very rude words, which I will no repeat, for the sake of our gentle readers' eyes.) Thus it was that, eventually, he had no place to look or search but up, and so up was where he looked.
As soon as he did so, his cry of pain could be heard from all the way down the corridor.
Several people came running at once to the source of the noise: one teacher, to see what the matter was; one caretaker, who surmised he might have some cleaning to do, or some mopping of bodily fluid; and quite a few students, who were curious rather than worried. After a few moments, even William himself turned from his solitary walk through the corridors to join the ever-increasing flow of people.
"My eyes! It went for my eyes!!" The bully was crying, and indeed, when William approached the door he could see blood running from his forehead and cheeks.
"Probably pecking off that monobrow." Another student muttered, and his companion laughed; but they were soon shushed by one of the other teachers, who had recently arrived on the scene.
"What's this?" The first teacher asked, looking around the room. "All of these black feathers... he's telling the truth. It really was a crow that attacked him."
As the bully was taken away to the infirmery, he passed by William, and gave him such a look of hatred that William almost flinched.
"This is your doing." He said. "And I'll never forget it."
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