The press of boys surrounded the newcomer, jeering and baying loudly like a pack of dogs out on the hunt. One of them, a big, burly lad of around fifteen, looked to his gang of acolytes, licking drooling lips in expectation, and jabbed the much more slightly built boy in front of him in the chest with a meaty finger.
“Edwin? What sort of a name is that?”
Edwin held the other’s hard stare, unflinching, even a little defiant. He looked from one contorted boy’s face to the next. “It’s my name,” he said. “What do you want me to say?”
A louder chorus of laughter. The big lad shook his head, pulled a face, and chimed in a mocking, sing-song tone, “Poor little Edwin – far from home and all alone!”
“Leave him alone, Stanmore.”
The new voice cracked like a whip, causing all of them to turn and
