“You have no business getting into a fight with this young hoodlum.” Master Nowak glared at Peter. “Why do you let him goad you into reacting?”
“Sorry, Master Nowak.” Peter glanced down, distracted by an acrid smell. It came from his shoe. He must have stepped in the fire and singed the sole. Angrily, he stamped his foot on the ground as if he could undo the damage. Maybe the cobbler could mend it. The shoes had already been resoled more times than he cared to count. “I think I will head back to the house, Master Nowak.”
Peter walked quickly as he made his way down the hill. He was still angry. Lars had deserved every slap. Then, he felt ashamed. Not so long ago, he had run around with Lars and his friends Gregor and Urban, and had joined in when they made fun of Effie.
A few months bef
