He paused, wiping sweat from his forehead. He looked at the words. They were neat, precise. On paper, he was eloquent. On paper, he was strong.
He picked up the bent compass. He placed the metal point on a blank page of the notebook. He took a deep breath, mimicking the calm demeanor Sarah always had. He began to turn the instrument. The circle wasn’t perfect—the hinge was loose—but it was close.
“Almost,” he whispered to himself. The word came out smooth. “Al-most.”
He felt a surge of pride. He was doing it. He was managing. The world was big and loud and scary, but in this little circle of shade, under the protection of the old oak tree, Leo was the captain of his own ship.
But the sanctity of the park was fragile.
The sound of crunching gravel broke his concentration. It wasn’t the rhythmic, polite footsteps of a jogger or the slow shuffle of an elderly person feeding pigeons. It was the heavy, scuffing sound of expensive sneakers dragging with purpose.
Leo froze. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He knew that sound.
“Well, well. Look who’s hiding in the bushes.”
The voice was nasally and dripping with mock sweetness. Leo didn’t need to look up to know it was Brad. Brad, who was fifteen, wealthy, and bored. Brad, whose father owned the largest car dealership in the county and who believed that the world existed solely to entertain him.
Leo slowly capped his pen. He tried to make himself smaller, curling his shoulders inward.
Brad wasn’t alone. He never was. Flanking him were his two shadows, Kyle and Mick. They were hulking boys, football players who had grown too fast for their brains to catch up, following Brad’s lead like trained Rottweilers.
“Whatcha doin’, Leo?” Brad asked, stepping into the shade. He blocked the sun, casting a long, dark shadow over the bench. He wore a pristine polo shirt and brand-name cargo shorts. “Writing in your little diary?”
Leo shook his head, clutching the notebook to his chest. Go away, he thought. Please, just walk past.
“I asked you a question,” Brad said, his voice hardening. He stepped closer, invading Leo’s personal space. The smell of expensive cologne and stale cigarette smoke washed over Leo. “Can’t you speak? Oh, that’s right. You can’t. Not really.”
“L-l-leave me a-a-alone,” Leo managed to whisper. The stutter hit him hard on the ‘a’, making his jaw tremble.
Kyle snickered. “Did you hear that? Sounded like a broken engine.”
“A broken engine for a broken kid,” Brad laughed. He looked down at the bench and saw the geometry set. “What is this trash?”
Brad picked up the plastic case. He turned it over in his hands with a look of disgust. “This is from the dollar bin, isn’t it? My dad wouldn’t even use this to scrape ice off his windshield.”
“G-give it b-b-back,” Leo said, reaching out.
Brad pulled it out of reach. “You want it? Come get it.”
He tossed the case to Mick. Mick laughed and tossed it to Kyle. They were playing keep-away, a cruel game they had perfected over years of tormenting kids smaller than them.
Leo stood up, his legs shaking. “P-p-please.”
“Please what?” Brad taunted. “Please, sir? Please, master? You gotta articulate, Leo. Enunciate.”
Leo felt the hot sting of tears pricking his eyes. He hated crying. Crying was weakness. Sarah didn’t cry. Sarah stood tall. He tried to channel her strength. He took a deep breath.
“It’s m-m-mine.”
“It’s garbage,” Brad corrected. He snatched the case back from Kyle. He opened it, took out the metal compass, and looked at it with disdain. “Look at this hinge. It’s rusted. You’re gonna get tetanus, kid. I’m doing you a favor.”
With a casual flick of his wrist, Brad threw the compass. Not back to Leo, but hard, toward the concrete path.
Clatter.
The cheap metal hit the pavement and snapped. The pencil holder broke off, skittering into the grass.
Leo gasped. It wasn’t just a tool; it was his homework, his future bridge, his effort to be normal.
“Oops,” Brad grinned, showing perfectly straightened teeth. “My hand slipped.”
Leo stared at the broken pieces. The injustice of it burned in his chest like a coal. He looked at Brad, really looked at him, and saw nothing but a void where empathy should be.
“Why?” Leo choked out.
“Because I can,” Brad said, stepping closer, looming over the ten-year-old. “And because nobody cares about a mute little weirdo like you. Now… let’s see what’s in that book.”
Leo clutched the notebook tighter. “N-no.”
“Yes,” Brad said. He lunged.
Leo tried to dodge, but he was small and slow. Brad grabbed the top of the notebook. Leo held the bottom. For a second, they were locked in a tug-of-war.
“Let go, you little freak!” Brad shouted.
“N-n-no! Sarah gave it t-t-to me!”
“Sarah?” Brad laughed, yanking hard. “You mean your sister? The one who ran away to the army?”
With a violent rip, the notebook was torn from Leo’s grasp. The force of it sent Leo stumbling back, landing hard on the dirt. Dust puffed up around him.
Brad stood triumphant, holding the prize. “Let’s see what secrets Leo is hiding.”
The park was quiet, save for the frantic beating of Leo’s heart. He watched, helpless, as Brad opened the cover. The violation was absolute. Those words were his soul. They were his voice. And now, they were in the hands of the enemy.
Chapter 2: The Sound of Tearing Paper
From his position on the ground, Leo looked up at the three teenagers. To him, they looked like giants, monsters from the myths Sarah used to read to him. But these monsters didn’t have claws; they had cruel laughter and the social license to destroy him.
Brad flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning Leo’s drawings and careful cursive.
“Aww, look at this,” Brad mocked, holding up a page with a drawing of a soldier. “He drew a picture of G.I. Jane. It looks like a stick figure with a bucket on its head.”
Kyle and Mick roared with laughter, high-fiving each other.
“And listen to this,” Brad cleared his throat, adopting a high-pitched, mocking baby voice. “Dear Sarah. I learned a new word today. Determined. I am determined to speak right.”
Brad stopped reading and looked down at Leo with a sneer that cut deeper than any knife. “Determined? You’re pathetic, Leo. You think writing it down changes anything? You think your sister cares?”
“She d-d-does!” Leo screamed, his face red, snot running from his nose. “She loves m-m-me!”
“If she loved you,” Brad said, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper, “she wouldn’t have left you here in this dump. She’s probably halfway across the world right now, laughing about how glad she is to be away from her stuttering, embarrassing little brother.”
“Liar!” Leo yelled, scrambling to his feet. He threw himself at Brad, his small fists flailing.
It was a futile attack. Brad didn’t even flinch. He simply put one hand on Leo’s forehead and pushed. Leo flew backward, landing in a muddy patch near the water fountain.
“Don’t touch me with your dirty hands,” Brad spat, brushing off his polo shirt.
Leo lay in the mud, the dampness seeping into his shorts. He felt defeated. He felt small. The words Brad had spoken—she stayed away to avoid the embarrassment—echoed in his mind. Was it true? Sarah had extended her tour. She said it was duty. Was it actually him?
“You know what?” Brad said, looking at the notebook. “This thing is just full of lies. You don’t need it.”
He ripped a page out. The sound was sharp, violent—Zzzzip.
He let the paper flutter down. It landed in a puddle of muddy water. The ink began to bleed immediately.
“Stop!” Leo wailed.
Zzzzip. Another page. A drawing of the family dog. Zzzzip. The spelling list. Zzzzip. The letter Leo had written just five minutes ago.
Brad was methodical. He wasn’t rushing. He was enjoying the destruction. He ripped the pages out one by one, tossing them like confetti into the mud and the dirt. Kyle and Mick were laughing, kicking the papers around, grinding them into the earth with their heavy sneakers.
“Please,” Leo begged, his voice breaking into a sob. He crawled on his hands and knees, trying to grab the wet scraps of paper. “Please, that’s all I h-h-have.”
“Oops, missed a spot,” Kyle said, stomping on Leo’s hand as he reached for a page.
Leo recoiled, clutching his bruised fingers. He looked at the mess. His communication. His voice. It was all destroyed. Scattered in the dirt, soaking in mud, ruined beyond repair.
Brad held up the empty wire spiral and the cardboard backing. “There. All gone. Now maybe you can learn
