Alphas Revenge

“Oh, see the poor boy.” Dre said to her friends. The small group of 8 children circled around the little boy. “He doesn’t even have fresh clothes to wear on New Year,” she said, and all her friends laughed. The little boy did not dare to talk to them. He busied himself by drawing a house in the sand. It was his choice not to speak harshly to that girl, but the other kids were imposing on him too. Dre, seeing him ignore her, stepped on the drawing he had made from morning till now. The little boy looked at the girl with his enormous eyes. Though they were all 8 years old, the girl’s sass was from another planet. Dre looked at the boy and then turned to her friends. “Well, mother said I should give my clothes to the needy. But look at his luck—he is a boy who cannot wear my clothes.” All the kids again laughed at the boy. Dre hauntingly eyed the boy, waiting for him to cry, as he always did. She enjoyed seeing him cry. Jay, Sam, and a few other boys were getting pretty excited for the little game. They were getting their lamb of sheep, and they too enjoyed bullying him. “And see this boy, playing with flowers. Like a girl,” Jay said while tossing Liam’s hair in the air. His hair was really silky for once. Every other person wanted to touch it for one reason or another—but not the boys of his age. “Would you like a doll, Liam?” Sam, another 8-year-old, joked. Dre liked the way they all teased him with her. It gave her entertainment and joy. She liked how everybody got on her side for this little devil. But the one who never opposed him was her mother. She heard her mother coming into the backyard. “Anyway, Liam is not a talker, guys, so let’s play on the swing,” she told her friends hurriedly. Saving her pride by inches, she fled from there with her gang. “Okay.” “Okay.” Everyone agreed with their leader and marched off. Liam was still sitting there. He looked over at the smiling lady. “Hi, Liam. Why are you not playing with these kids?” she asked. It was not the first time she had asked, but she never understood why he was always to himself. She liked the kid very much—so polite, so cute, and so charming. “They are not good to me,” little Liam spoke. He was familiar with Mrs. Arora Paige now, more than her daughter, Dre. Arora arched her brows, thinking. “Why are you saying so?” she asked. She looked at her daughter running after some girl. “See, Dre is playing with them. Tell her you also want to play; she will introduce you to them, and then you can play together.” Arora said this for her child, Dre, which was short for Dreamy. But she hated her name, and that is why she went by Dre. “Dre does not like me,” Liam said, holding his tears. Arora smiled at the boy, thinking this must be the phase when little boys and girls don’t like each other that much. She knew very well that things would change once they got acquainted, in a matter of time. “Okay, so do you want a cookie?” she suggested, changing the topic. Little Liam’s eyes glittered. “Yes, Mrs. Paige.” Arora pinched his nose lightly. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Aunty?” “But I don’t like calling you Aunty. You are sweet,” he said, holding her smooth hands. She stood up, holding the little guy, and they started walking towards the house. “Oh, I am sweet?” she laughed a little. “What about Dre? What is she like?” she asked the little boy. “She is not sweet.” She resisted a laugh. “Do you hate her?” she asked. Liam thought a little and answered, “No, I don’t think I hate her, but she is definitely not sweet.” “It hurts when she scolds me,” the little guy said, clutching his chest. Arora laughed at this sweet gesture. Liam continued, “I think she is sour.”