Little Blue Strings

Little Blue Snippets VIII

"What do you want, you freak?" Jonathan snaps at him.

He almost flinches at the harsh tone, but he is used to it. Jonathan is, after all, one of the many other children who hate him and torment him on a regular basis.

"Here," Ezra Thompson simply says in a quiet tone, thrusting the blanket at him. It's not very large, but it is soft and warm. It's one of his favorites.

Jonathan looks at him with surprise.

"It's cold outside. You'll freeze without it." He does not give Jonathon much of a choice, for he drops the blanket onto the other boy's lap.

"Bu-But..." Jonathan's tone quickly becomes defensive. "Why are you giving this to me? I don't need your help."

He won't say it aloud, because he knows it will only fuel Jonathan's constantly angry temper, but Jonathan does need someone's help. Ezra knows Jonathan is an orphan. That he doesn't go to school. That he lives on the streets and steals from the shop owners. That nobody likes him because of his temper. That he only bullies Ezra because the others give him attention when he does, and it makes him feel wanted and accepted.

"Just take it, Jonathan," Ezra sighs. "It's already starting to snow again."

Jonathan looks down at the blanket. When he doesn't move to touch it, Ezra picks it up and puts it over Jonathan's shoulders.

"Why?" repeats Jonathan, a little less standoffish than he normally is. His eyes are wary, like those of a beaten dog accepting food from a stranger.

"Just because you hate me doesn't mean that I hate you," Ezra says.

Jonathan looks almost shocked. "But..."

"You beat me up? Call me names? Make fun of my sister?"

"Yeah..." mumbles Jonathan, looking down at his tattered boots.

"Well listen, Jonathan. To be honest, you and the others, the things you do... Yeah, they hurt. And sometimes you make me feel so worthless that I want to die. That's the truth. Yet, even with all of that, I can't bring myself to hate any of you. Call me soft if you will, but my mother always said to love your enemies."

"I... I..."

"It's fine," Ezra says, knowing that Jonathan is trying to apologize. "I do not expect this to change anything, but I want you to know that I think you're better than this. You can do better."

With that, Ezra walks away, leaving Jonathan to sit against the side of the shop. He swears he hears a whispered 'thank you' over the sound of his boots crunching in the snow.

...

"Aww, come on! You're no fun, Jonathan!" William complains.

"We've got better things to do. If we take time to beat him up, we'll miss Mr. Green! We were going to throw snowballs at him when he closed his shop, remember?"

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot! We'll be late!" another boy called Jason says. "Come on!" He waves his hand, and the rest of the boys follow him, running through the snow. None of them notice that Jonathan has lagged behind.

A hand reaches down, and Ezra Thompson accepts it.

"Thanks," he says, a bit bewildered that Jonathan has intervened, and not Richard.

"Don't mention it," Jonathan mutters, turning to leave.

"Why?" Ezra asks, unable to contain his question.

"You helped me," says Jonathan, looking back at Ezra. "I figured it was only right to repay the favor. I don't expect it to change anything, though."

Ezra can't help but smile, very faintly. Jonathan doesn't think that he has ever seen Ezra smile before. He looks flustered for a moment, then his smiles back.

"Neither do I."