Page 2 of Shattering

Gray didn't respond immediately, just narrowed his eyes at the older kid. Cadi had seen that look before—like a storm about to break. The taunting boy, sensing no resistance, stepped closer, repeating, "Gonna cry for yer mam?"

Gray moved fast. A small shove, not enough to send the bigger boy to the floor, but enough to make his point. "Shut yer bake."

The bigger kid stumbled back, clearly surprised, for a second before his expression melted into an angry scowl. He was before a teacher intervened, pulling them apart and ending the altercation before it could escalate.

Cadi grinned. "I like him."

Ana huffed. "You like everyone."

Lunchtime came, and Cadi noticed him again, this time alone in the play area. He sat on the swing set, glaring down at his lunchbox.

Curious, she skipped up to him. "Why do you look so grumpy?"

Gray didn't look up. "Lettuce."

She peered over his shoulder at his sandwich. "What about it?"

"I hate it."

Cadi tilted her head. "Then don't eat it."

He sighed, clearly frustrated with the entire situation. "Mam says I have to."

Cadi kicked a pebble before saying, "I've half a grilled cheese. Want it?"

No answer.

She shrugged. "Want me to push you?"

"No."

She smirked and turned away. "Alright then."

She'd barely taken two steps when his voice came again, softer. "Fine."

Ana, who had been lingering nearby, rolled her eyes. "Took him long enough."

Cadi ignored her, moving behind the swing and pressing her hands against the chains. She pushed, but Gray barely budged.

Ana laughed. "You're too small."

"Shut up," Cadi huffed, pushing harder.

Ana joined in, and together they managed to get Gray moving. He still looked grumpy, but Cadi could see the corner of his mouth tilting up.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Chapter 3

"Pass the red crayon, will ya, Cads?" Gray muttered, his Derry accent thick as he focused on the lines of his sketch.

Cadi handed it to him without looking up, absorbed in her own artwork. Her paper was filled with swirls of bright colours, abstract and free, while Gray's was more structured—precise shapes carefully sketched with his pencil before he added any colour. Their shoulders almost touched, but neither seemed to notice.

"That looks good," Cadi said, glancing at Gray's drawing. "What is it?"

"A rugby pitch," he muttered, shading in the goalposts. "It's for when I play."

Before Cadi could respond, Byron plopped himself onto the chair beside them, stretching out dramatically. His front teeth were missing, leaving a slight whistle in his words. "Oh no, am I interrupting a moment?" he thed, waggling his eyebrows. "That'th what Uncle Tom alwayth athkth mom and dad."

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