"Crybaby Hansen! Cry-baaa-by!"
"Look at him, he won't even talk!"
"Bet he'll pee his pants!"
A bunch of kids hooting and jeering, voices too shrill, too eager, circling around something like a pack sniffing out weakness. In the eye of the storm stood a small boy with a mop of brown hair half-covering his eyes, hands balled into fists that clearly weren't planning to throw a single punch.
He didn't. But that didn't matter to the little tyrants of the orphanage playground. Facts rarely stood a chance against bored children with nothing better to do.
Then, somewhere behind the circle, a sharp voice sliced through the chaos.
"Hey! Mush-brains!"
A collective flinch. The kids parted just slightly, hesitant, and through the gap marched a scrawny girl with an expression far too fierce for someone her size. Her hair was tied up in an uneven ponytail that had clearly suffered from several days of neglect, and her shirt bore the remains of a morning paint project.
