The next morning, Newton's mother woke him before the sun had fully risen. "Wake up, darling. It's time for our morning devotion."
Newton groaned, burying his face in the pillow for a moment longer, then dragged himself into the kitchen. The floorboards creaked under his weight, and the air smelled faintly of oatmeal and brewed coffee. The light from the small window painted the room in pale gold.
His mother opened the Bible, her hands steady, her voice was calm. "This is the commandment of Christ: love God, and love your neighbor as yourself."
She paused and observed Newton. His eyes were fixed on her.
"Thou shalt not kill." She looked at him, her eyes firm but gentle. "To obey this you must avoid violence."
"violence leads to death. Do not partake in it. Do you understand?"
Newton nodded without speaking. "Yes, Mom." The words stuck to him, but he already knew how quickly life could teach its own lessons.
They ended the session with prayers and Newton gate before returning to his room to prepare for school.
By the time he had dressed and grabbed his school bag, the streets were busy with children and parents. The moment he stepped out, he saw them. Brian and his two companions leaned against the chain-link fence, their eyes locking on him like predators.
"There's Newton Hill," Brian said, his voice low and dangerous. "We have to get his money now before he spends it all."
The moment Newton saw them coming, his heart thumped. Without thinking, he bolted. Sneakers skidding against concrete, he ran, weaving between the other students. Behind him, shouts and laughter rose, mocking and cruel.
Brian lunged, pinning him to the ground. "Why do you have to stress me?" he growled, punching Newton hard in the stomach. The pain radiated outward, stealing the air from his lungs. Newton coughed, tasting blood in his mouth.
"Now, give me all your money."
Newton shook his head. "I… I do not have much. Only enough for lunch and… to take the cap back home."
The boys laughed, sharp and biting. "As if we care. Trek back home and starve," Brian said, dipping his hands into Newton's pockets. Coins clinked.
Then a voice cut through the haze, sharp and clear: "Leave him alone, or you'll have to deal with me."
The boys froze. Amalia Cardos stood there, flanked by her friends. Her long hair swayed in the breeze, her eyes burning with determination. Fists clenched, they didn't move.
Brian's jaw tightened. "We should beat them up," Kael hissed, but Brian shook his head. "No. She's the sheriff's daughter. We don't touch her." He shot a final glare at Newton. "You're lucky today. Don't get used to it."
Amalia stepped forward, reaching for Newton's hand, helping him to his feet. "Are you alright?" she asked, concern threading her voice.
Newton nodded, rubbing his stomach. "I'll be fine."
Together, they walked to class, side by side. Newton's shoulders still burned from the blows, his mind replaying the terror, the helplessness. But walking with Amalia, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: protection, and a sliver of courage.
From that day forward, he walked among Amalia and her friends, a quiet shield against the schoolyard predators. Brian noticed, eyes narrowing, but he couldn't touch him. "I will have my chance once again."
Class passed slowly. Every step Newton took alongside Amalia's group felt like reclaiming a small piece of the world that had been stolen from him. The cafeteria, usually a battlefield of whispers and ridicule, felt almost peaceful with her by his side.
After school, Newton trudged home, muscles sore, stomach still aching. The kitchen smelled of warm bread and simmering soup. His mother glanced up from the stove.
"You're quiet today," she said softly. "I'm always quiet," Newton muttered.
She smiled slightly, turning off the stove. "That's true." She placed a bowl in front of him, steam curling up like tiny ghosts. "You need to eat now."
Newton stared at the bowl, appetite dull, thoughts still tangled with the morning's events. She noticed, always noticing.
"You seemed to be smiling to yourself a lot more these days. Is there something you are not telling me?"
Newton Froze.
"No, mom. I would never hide anything from you."
His mother observed him, and shook her head.
"I think there is a woman in your life."
Newton flinged up defensively. "No, mom. I am still too young for that."
His mother gave up, raising both hands to the air. "Alright, if you say so, I believe you." Then she walked away, leaving him in the kitchen.
He ate slowly, bite by careful bite, the warmth of the soup grounding him. Newton knew the reality he carried was different. Somewhere in that mundane flow of life, danger and cruelty waited for him every day.
Yet for the first time in a long while, he did not feel completely alone. He had someone who would stand for him, someone whose courage could shield his own. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start living a normal peaceful life.
Newton's life changed in small ways, almost imperceptibly at first. Amalia and her friends were always nearby, shadows of protection, bodies ready to step in if Brian or his friends decided to make the morning unpleasant again. But Newton wasn't just a boy waiting to be saved.
He quickly became the brains of their little group. In class, he carried the weight of their assignments like a silent engine. Amalia would glance at him across the table, notebook open, pencil poised, and he would already have the solution scribbled in neat handwriting.
And when any member of the group struggles to understand, he steps up and break it dow to him or her.
"Newton, you didn't have to do my math homework again," she whispered one day, her dark eyes catching his across the classroom.
"I don't mind," he said softly, tucking his pen away. He didn't speak for praise. He spoke because the answer mattered, because the problem needed solving, and because Amalia's frown would vanish if he did.
It started with small things. Notes passed quietly during lessons, folded origami cranes left on his desk, the occasional apple placed in his lunchbox without a word. The gestures were subtle, unspoken, but they carried a warmth Newton hadn't known he needed.
Walking home became routine, predictable and safe. He flanked Amalia's friends when needed, but his eyes constantly searched the path ahead, alert for trouble. If Brian lingered too long at the corner shop or his friends crowded the street, Newton would subtly steer the group down a different alley. They never questioned it. They trusted him, and that trust felt heavier than any backpack of textbooks.
But it wasn't all strategy and defense. It was in the small touches. Amalia brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, their elbows bumping accidentally as they reached for the same textbook, laughter spilling into empty hallways when someone dropped a pencil or misread a word.
Newton began to notice the way her eyes lingered on him just a little longer than necessary. Not cruel or mocking, not like the others. Just curiosity. Interest. Something that made his chest tighten, and his thoughts scatter in ways he didn't fully understand.
He tried not to think about it. Focus on school. Focus on their small victories: test scores, solved problems, lunch shared quietly on the steps outside the cafeteria. Focus on keeping them safe. But it was impossible to ignore the way his heart jumped when she leaned just a little closer, whispered encouragement during a reading exercise, or simply caught his gaze and smiled.
One afternoon, the group was walking back from school. Newton carried their notebooks, his arms heavy with textbooks, and Amalia walked beside him, balancing her own bag with one hand and nudging him lightly with the other.
"You always carry too much," she said with a laugh.
"I don't mind," he replied, brushing the stray dust from a corner of her notebook. "You need your hands free for other things."
She looked up at him, curious, a smile teasing at the corner of her lips. "Other things?"
"Life," Newton said simply, glancing away before he added, quieter, "and homework."