Page 33 of Protecting the Nerd

“Are you okay?” York asked the younger kid with a gentleness that seemed to come from a deep well of understanding and compassion.

“Y-yeah,” the kid stammered, still trembling from the encounter.

“What’s your name?”

“Matthew. Matt.”

“I’m York. What grade are you in?”

“Sixth.”

“Are you new to town?”

The kid nodded. “We moved here a few months ago. My dad’s the new fire chief.”

“Gotcha. I assume you know those two boys?”

“They’re in eighth grade. They always make fun of me for being so small.”

“I didn’t hit my growth spurt until ninth grade, so don’t despair. I was always the smallest until I finally started growing.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Really? I hope it will come soon. I hate being the smallest.”

“So did I, so I know how it feels. Do you have Mr. Perry for English?”

“Yeah.”

“Here’s what I want you to do. Tomorrow, seek him out and tell him about this. I promise he’ll help you.”

Matt bit his lip. “I’m afraid that’ll only make things worse.”

York leaned in. “Do you know who Mr. Perry is married to?”

Matt shook his head.

“Sheriff Frant. Trust me when I say he’ll deal with them.”

“I feel like a coward for not standing up to them.”

York put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “They’re the cowards, not you. They pick on you because you’re smaller. Didn’t you see them run off when they had to face me? You’re the brave one here.”

Matt’s eyes, red from tears not yet dried, locked onto York’s with an intensity that spoke volumes of the moment’s importance. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

I observed in silent awe as York slung a comforting arm around the young boy’s shoulders, a gesture so paternal and protective it tugged at something deep within me. The kid leaned into the embrace, his body relaxing like a flower to sunlight after a storm.

“Also, do you know Gabe Everett in eleventh grade?”

“Yeah.”

“You can always talk to him or to Josiah, his brother. They’re both super nice and will have your back.”

“Thank you.” Matt looked up at York with pure worship, and I couldn’t blame him.

“Now, why don’t you go home, okay?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

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