Dicky had just finished changing his clothes in the locker room.

Suddenly, a boy rushed toward him and shoved him hard onto the floor.

Dicky’s eyes turned icy as he glared back.

He knew this boy—Jerry from the neighboring class, who had placed second in the swimming competition.

Two taller, bulkier boys flanked Jerry, all staring down at Dicky.

"You little brat! You stole first place from me! You’re asking for trouble!"

Jerry’s voice dripped with venom.

"It was a fair contest. I didn’t steal anything," Dicky replied firmly.

As he tried to stand, Jerry stomped on his small hand.

"Did I say you could get up?!" Jerry snarled.

Furious at the injustice, Dicky shoved Jerry away with his free hand.

Jerry staggered backward, shocked that Dicky had fought back.

"How dare you push me? Do you even know who I am? My father built this school! One word from me, and you’re expelled!"

Dicky refused to listen.

He rose to his feet and turned to leave.

"Stop right there!" Jerry yelled.

Dicky kept walking.

"Grab him!" Jerry ordered the two heavyset boys.

They rushed forward, each seizing one of Dicky’s arms.

They were much bigger and stronger than the other boys, pinning Dicky in place as Jerry approached.

"You think you can ignore me? Let me teach you some manners!"

With that, he kicked Dicky hard in the leg.

Dicky gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out.

"Oh, tough guy, are you?" Jerry sneered.

He snatched a nearby trash can and slammed it over Dicky’s head.

Dicky was a neat freak, and the foul stench from the trash can made him gag.

Jerry laughed triumphantly when he saw Dicky’s fair face smeared with grime after removing the can.

"Call me 'Daddy'! Promise you’ll never beat me in any event again, and I’ll let you go!"

"Never!" Dicky shot back.

"What did you say? Beat him up!" Jerry commanded.

The two boys raised their fists, ready to strike.

"Stop!"

Cordy’s voice cut through the air, sharp with fury.

She hadn’t felt this enraged in years. She could handle almost anything thrown at her with calm logic.

But seeing Dicky bullied shattered her composure. A murderous rage surged within her.

She had been waiting outside the locker room, growing increasingly anxious.

She thought maybe Dicky had tripped and fallen.

It never occurred to her he was being tormented.

The moment she stepped inside, she saw those ill-mannered boys about to attack him.

She stormed over, shoved the boys aside, and pulled Dicky safely into her arms.

In the loudest voice she had ever used, she shouted, "What do you think you’re doing?!"