Take Me back to the Start | B. Barnes

1. First meeting

1936

"Why isn't he crying?"

"Do I look like a psychologist? Just punch him and he'll cry."

Two male voices and the sound of a drop. The blonde, small guy that's being bullied by the two larger boys falls to the dirty ground and tries to stand up again. What really is a miracle is that the boy has not shown any pain yet. Either he is stubborn and stupid or he's strong. Maybe both. While the two bullies keep punching and kicking him brutally down, I try to make up a plan. The police men clearly do not care about the things that happen in Brooklyn, otherwise stuff like that would not happen. And I cannot do much against them as a skinny and weak girl but I may be able to fool them.

"Officer, here are the boys!" I yell as loud as possible, leaving my hiding place behind the dumpster which is next to the alley they are at. As I anticipated, their eyes widen in fear.

"Crap!" One of the boys swears and grabs his friend to drag him to the other direction of the alley. They luckily run away as I hoped. I walk to the small guy who tries to sit up and get rid of the dirt although it seems impossible. His innocent blue eyes look at me embarrassed.

"Now I even needed to get rescued by a girl." He mutters while he's whipping away the blood on his nose. At least he's smart enough to know that a police man won't come.

"Girls are underrated." I offer him my hand with a little smirk and he takes it to stand up. As I get a better look at him, I realize that he's not that small, he's just a bit taller than me and too small for an average guy. But I have to admit that he looks horrible. He has a black eye and his nose is engorged and bleeds, I'm also almost sure that his ribs may be bruised, judging from the amount they kicked him. And still, he doesn't complain.

"What's your name?" He asks shyly and a hint of stutter is in his voice. Does he have a problem with talking to girls?

"Eve Farrell."

"Steve Rogers. Thank you for saving me, uhm, Ms. Farrell." A little smile appears on his lips. He looks like a small pup.

"Call me Eve." I suggest him to make him feel more comfortable and he nods. My full name is actually Evelyn but I prefer to be called by my nickname. It sounds much better and unlike my full name, it belongs to just me and not my family.

"Don't we have art class together?" He questions, looking slightly confused and I only now realize that he's right. Steve Rogers, 17, in the same art class as me. I didn't recognize him because I've only been in the art class for three days, being actually invisible for everyone. Somehow, the blonde innocent guy has noticed me.

"You're right. I sit three seats behind you, I think."

Before he can say something, we hear fast and heavy steps and as I turn around, a hand grabs mine and pushes me against the hard wall. A gasp of shock escapes my mouth when I feel an acute pain in my back. The guys from earlier have come back and they look extremely mad. My eyes widen in a mixture of fear and panic and I notice how the other guy is holding Steve's arm, so he won't be able to escape.

"Nice try. But don't think we'd be that stupid, little bitch. Or that we won't hurt you just because you're a girl." He adds the threat and I bite on my lower lip, trying to find a solution for this really crappy situation. After a few seconds of thought, I kick spontaneously the guy against his shin and he lets out a painful groan, then I shove him as hard as possible against his bud. As expected, both guys fall to the ground and Steve could free himself.

"Run!" I shout to him.

He does as I say but both guys stand up quickly and walk straight to me. Steve tries to stop them after running back to us but they simply shove him to the ground. The guys get closer, glaring at me and I step backwards till I feel the wall at my back again, trapping me. My heart beats fast, lead by anxiety and I try to swallow my weakness.