-- ALL FROM THE START [Josh]

He hadn't meant to push his brother down the stairs. They'd been fighting, arguing as usual, and Joshua had meant to shove him against the wall to get him back for ripping up the book he'd been reading. That was all. How was it his fault that Bryce had lost his footing and fell part of the way down the stairs? Now his brother was crying, getting the injury looked at by Donovan, and Joshua was standing defiant under his mother's hot blue glare. "You're lucky Bryce didn't need to be hospitalized! Do you realize how much trouble you're in?" Truth be told, Josh felt kinda bad for pushing Bryce down like that. I never meant to hurt him. Hurt him, yeah, but not that bad. Just rough him up a little. Like the gang always said. 'We're not gonna really hurt 'em, just rough 'em up a bit.' With his mother screaming at him, though, acting as if this was all entirely his fault, his temper flared as usual. "He was asking for it!" Joshua actually stomped his foot in frustration, a childish thing to do but a knee-jerk reaction in his rage. He folded his arms over his chest and lifted his chin defiantly. "He was messing with my stuff again!" Patricia looked livid as she scowled down at him. "So you decided you'd break his arm? His neck? Christ's sakes, Joshua, I don't know what to do with you sometimes!" Joshua's lip quivered and he tried his best to look tough. "I wasn't trying to break anything!" The sharp bark of laughter from his mother was hardly reassuring. "That doesn't give you the right!" Donovan came in then, Bryce padding at his heels, and Patricia left her husband to deal with Josh as she ushered Bryce into another room.

Where he'd stood firm and frowned at his mother, the small boy of eleven quailed under his father's dark glare. Donovan did not have to say anything and Joshua knew just how furious he was. It was in his face, his eyes, the way he stood. "You're grounded. Go to your room." The word grounded made him flinch. He didn't want to be grounded, that meant they'd take away his books and they'd make him stay in his room the whole day. They'd lock both the doors from the outside and only open them at meal times. He had a bathroom in his room so he couldn't even get out for that. Josh made the mistake of shaking his head and the next thing he knew was a sharp pain in his jaw, his cheek, the entire right side of his face. He staggered with the blow and let out a soft whimper. His lip trembled again but this time the rest of him trembled, too. Donovan's iron grip enclosed his wrist, trapping him there. "Are you challenging me, Joshua?" His mother didn't scare him but his father terrified him. His eyes felt hot as tears threatened to spill over. He found it even hard to swallow as he trembled and shook, head moving back and forth frantically. "N-N-No, Dad, I-I just—" He broke off and flinched instinctively as Donovan's scowl deepened. "I-I'm sorry! P-Please, just let g-go of me." His words shook and cracked as they stammered past his lips. To his surprise, his father released his grip. "Apologise to your brother." When Joshua looked as if he might argue, Donovan narrowed his eyes. "Go." And he went, of course, because arguing further would only make things worse.

Bryce was no longer crying when Joshua entered the dining room where he was sitting, though the redness in his eyes and the tracks down his cheeks were indication enough. The lump on his forehead was ugly and purple-black, the scowl on his face immense. "Dad says I might have a con... concu...cushion." He struggled with the word as if unsure of its meaning, though his voice was not soft and shy but angry and accusing. "It's concussion," Josh corrected quietly. "It's what happens when you hit your head too hard." Concussions were bad, could even be fatal. Fatal meant you passed away, they buried you in the ground and you weren't coming back. Fatal meant death and even Bryce would know what that meant. Uncomfortably, reluctantly, Joshua mumbled, "I'm sorry." It wasn't just his fault. Why didn't Bryce have to apologise? Why was it always him that got into trouble? Bryce looked almost gleeful as he said, "Dad hit you again, didn't he?" The red mark on Josh's face was clear indication. "It's not fair! Why is it always me they blame? You hit me first!" When he'd tried to tug the book out of Bryce's grip, the boy had punched him and ran. Wasn't Josh's fault he ran for the stairs. Josh felt the tears again, angry and hot. He hated crying. Dad would call him a baby, crying was what little girls and babies did. Bryce smirked at him and Josh wanted to hit him again, but he didn't. "You're older than me, you should know better." The words were mocking, for weren't they the ones Trish always used? "Shut up!" Josh demanded, slamming a clenched fist on the table and making the objects on it jump.

Donovan entered the room at the sound and Josh immediately ducked his head, submissive and frightened. "Go to your room." When he'd said it earlier, Josh had refused. Now he couldn't have left fast enough. "Going!" Five minutes in the room was enough for him to get bored, though, and though he kicked at the door and yelled for his parents to open it, no one responded. Dinner wasn't for a few hours and he doubted he would get food anyway. Withholding meals often went hand-in-hand with being grounded. So instead of being a good boy and thinking about what he'd done, Joshua smashed the pane of glass beside the balcony door and deftly unlocked it, creating a long but shallow graze on his forearm as he did so. It stung like a papercut and he went back inside to run it under the water a minute before he snuck out onto the balcony and jumped down onto the one that wrapped around part of the second floor. He snuck in through his sister's room (she was just a little kid, she wouldn't understand) and before long he found himself in the park, a favourite haunt of his. He also found himself face to face with a bunch of bullies picking on some girl. Truth be told, Josh had wanted the swing for himself, but it angered him that they were being so mean to her to get it. It felt like how his parents always took his brothers side and there was nothing Josh could do. "Hey!" he said defiantly, bravely, and the boy of eleven probably didn't look too intimidating with his grazed arm and bruised cheek. "She can't help it if she talks like that, leave'r alone!" He marched right up to one of the boys and shoved him, hard, ignoring the fact that his own arm was still bleeding slightly. Not much, but enough to be noticed. "You okay?" He wasn't usually the type to stick up for other people but he was so sick of being ganged up on lately.

[had way too much fun with this sorryforthelength]

He knew all about bullies. Joshua remembered things going missing from his school stuff, being pushed down on the playground, getting surrounded by older kids that he didn't stand a chance against. He remembered shivering on the edge of the dock as three boys from his class bore down on him, threw him into the lake. "How'd you like to go for a little swim?" He couldn't swim, though, and he remembered shuddering in the dining room with a towel wrapped around him and tears joining the water that streamed down his face. Yes, he knew all about being pushed around. At the same time, he normally would not have interfered with the situation. He had no connection to Lark, no knowledge of her identity. It was hardly on his conscious if they pushed her around because, "I didn't ask them to do it." Today was different. He was sick of being ganged up on and seeing someone else in the same situation was the last straw. "I'm making it my business." It sounded lame as he scowled at them and crossed his arms but he was dead serious. These guys were a year or so older than him and there was more than one but Josh was as fearless as he was stubborn. Reckless, stupid, there were too many words for it. "Picking on girls because you can't fight worth shit, huh?" Not that all girls were shit at fighting. No, there was a girl in his class that had really hurt him, once. A group of guys could dwarf a single kid, though.

Though he saw crying as weak when he was the one shedding tears, Josh barely thought on it when he noticed the tracks running down her cheeks. He did not see her as a weakling or a baby but if he'd been in her place he'd surely be berating himself. Josh was a little alarmed by the close proximity the other boy got to him but he tried not to let it show on his face. I'm tough, I'm strong, I'll show them how good I am. The words made him shake his head. "She's not my girlfriend!" Why did everyone have to make assumptions like that? God, it was so frustrating. He didn't need a girlfriend. He'd kissed a girl at a party and it had kind of freaked him out since he had no idea what he was doing and she was drunk. It hadn't been very pleasant. The fact that the other boy was older and taller than him put Josh at a disadvantage and he stumbled back when he was pushed, falling over onto his ass. It hurt quite a bit but he clenched his jaw, stiffened himself against the pain. I'm not gonna cry like a little kid, I won't. He stood back up, palms scraped and sore, and squared his shoulders in brave stupidity. "You don't scare me!"

Though his words were strong, Joshua found himself hesitating when they put the girl in a chokehold and practically dared him to fight the three of them to protect her. This is why I never get involved. He didn't want to end up beaten into a pulp and tossed into a dumpster. That was the kind of thing the gang would do to anyone they beat up. They'd taught him how to fight but he was a little worried about going up against the three of them. He was headstrong but he had a feeling it would be better if he left them to their own devices. It was in his moment of doubt that Lark acted, biting her assailant, and he blinked back at her when she kicked the boy in the shin and rejoined him. I should get out of here, but... She thanked him, then, and it was an odd feeling in his chest. Something like pride. Someone was glad for his help. It made him feel better about the situation. "No problem." His own colourless eyes were searching, intense and intelligent, but they turned back to the group after only a brief pause. Never turn your back on the enemy. The enemy decided to pick on Lark again at that, kicking her down and... oh, god, she was crying again. He didn't do well when people cried. He was never sure what to say or do when a person got emotional around him. So instead of comforting her, he marched right up to the 'leader' of the group and punched him as hard as he could. "What the fuck'd you do that for?"

Bullies always talked like they were in the right, like their word was law and everyone else had to shut up and listen. He hated that, the fact that no sense could be talked into them. His own brother was of the stubbornly opinionated sort and Josh tried not to be that way for that exact reason. He was stubborn, yes, and he stuck up for his own opinions, but bullies were different. Their opinions didn't make any sense and he liked it when things made sense. "Am not." The words were a snarl. They didn't know anything about him, why was it any of their business what Lark was to him? He could have insisted that she was just some stupid kid that he was helping out of general frustration but he held back, partially because that wasn't how he actually felt about her. She could stick up for herself and he admired that. He was still kind of small for his age and it made him self-conscious but he remembered how much worse it had been when he was shorter than even the girls in his class. They'd called him a midget and pushed him around, some of the guys had even suggested that he might be a girl in disguise or something. There wasn't anything wrong with girls save for the fact that he wasn't one and it hurt. So the fact that Lark was fierce enough to defend herself was nice. He wasn't on his own here. If she'd simply sat there and cried he probably wouldn't have stuck around because Joshua always put himself before other people.

He lifted his chin in defiance when the boy snapped at him, a furious glint in his gray eyes. "What's the matter?" he asked, sneering. "Did it hurt, you little pussy bitch?" He wasn't even sure why the insult was so offensive to people but the gang used it a lot and if they said it, it must have been pretty bad. It probably wasn't a good idea to incense the already angry boy further but Joshua was pissed off himself and that damaged his rationality. His eyes widened when the boy swung a punch but his reflexes kicked in and he ducked and side-stepped out of the way. "Missed me, sucker!" He was actually starting to enjoy this a little now. He knew he'd have been in a lot more trouble if the group as a whole were to converge upon him but thankfully the middle boy's lackeys seemed to be more concerned with watching the fight than being active participants. "You call that a punch? My grandma hits better than you!" Marie was dead and Grandma Willy wasn't a fighter but that didn't matter. He was trying to taunt them, he didn't care if it was very accurate. Besides, what did they know about him? He backed off a few paces to put distance between himself and the group but he still tried to stick close enough to Lark that they couldn't take advantage of her smaller size again.

He returned the half-smile with a twitch of his own lips. "You're kinda tough, kid." It was a compliment, calling her 'kid' because he didn't know what her name was. It was something the gang had said to him once, those exact words. They didn't know his name, either. He didn't tell them because he didn't think they'd care. Kid worked for him. It was like a nickname, one that he was proud of because they called him it. He didn't quite like being called a hero, he wasn't trying to save the day, but he certainly wasn't going to run away like a sissy coward when the older boy was insistent about taking him on. "I can take ya, she won't need to fight." He lifted his chin, stepped forward, and threw a few punches in quick succession. "Feint 'em, kid, make 'em think you're hitting from the opposite direction so they try to block and leave their other side open." So that was what he did. He feinted right, faked a left punch twice, then followed with a swift uppercut to the jaw. Joshua then aimed another punch, lower than the gut, aiming for that cheap shot that no guy wanted in a fight. Down and out immediately in that case. He hoped that the hit to the jaw would be enough to distract the boy so that he didn't see it coming and block. Breathing hard but smirking, feeling cocky, Josh stepped back a bit. "Anyone else wanna go?"

[Parents can come in your post if they don't leave?]

Clearly his insult had been effective enough in pissing the leader of their group off, for the boy came back spitting venom of his own. Joshua narrowed his eyes, smirked at him. He was feeling pretty cocky. The gang would be proud of him for this, he bet, beating up on a guy that was older than him. They usually attacked as a group to make sure that they came away with the upper hand and here he was fighting two-on-three. "Said you're a pussy bitch," Joshua repeated, gray eyes glittering coldly as he enunciated the words like he was talking to someone slow. "Are you deaf, too?" He knew the boy had heard him perfectly fine but he couldn't help stacking the insults, infuriating him more. If you talked tough, you felt tough, and it was certainly working for him right now. The threats of the older boy were kind of frightening but Joshua was in the mood for fighting now, rationality had slowly drained away. Where there had been doubts about the fighting before there were none now. "Who says you're getting me on the ground?" He gestured with his hand as if to beckon the other boy forward. "Come fight me, then!" If all three of them took him up on his offer Joshua acknowledged the fact that he'd be royally screwed but they were wimps from what he could tell. It was a good thing, too. This would have been easier if he had the guys to back him.

Joshua knew how much it hurt to take a shot to the nuts, it often took several minutes to recover from the crippling agony and it was a miracle if you could remain standing to do so. He also knew how cheap it was to make a hit like that, especially since he was male himself, but he didn't give a shit. "Calling me cheap when it takes three of you to pick on a girl?" He wasn't insulting Lark by including her gender, merely mocking his opponents with his words as usual. He was still breathing heavily from the excitement of the fight and there was a light sheen of sweat on his brow but he was smirking as he faced the other two. "That's right, run away, cowards!" The fight had left him with a feeling of power, exhilaration. He was somebody when he could dish out a beating. The only difference was that he didn't usually start the fights. He'd help his friends start them if they suggested it but he was almost docile when he was on his own. There was no reason for pointless conflict. He watched them leave, their leader, too, and when they were gone he relaxed the tension in his shoulders and exhaled. I'm okay. He was actually a bit surprised he was mostly unscathed, hurt but not in dire straights. We're okay, he corrected, remembering the girl and turning his attention toward her with a twitch of his lips that could almost be considered a friendly gesture.

He cocked his head slightly when she introduced herself as if he was thinking about something. "Lark," he repeated. "Like the bird, yeah?" He wasn't sure where he'd picked up on the fact that a lark was a sort of bird but it was no doubt in some book or another. He read a lot of books. If he came across something unfamiliar then he asked his parents, looked it up on the internet, or else simply read around the passage to try and piece it together. He was really smart for his age and he took pride in that. It was one of the few things he was truly good at, figuring things out. "Josh." One word, his name, spoken with confidence and accompanied by a proud smirk. He was flying high today, feeling enthralled. He'd practically forgotten all about the fact that he'd need to go home later and somehow explain to his parents how the door had broken and he'd cut up his arm. His father would murder him. He decided he was not going home right away. He was a little surprised when the girl asked him to teach her how to fight. He was reminded of the first time he'd gaped in awe and admiration when the gang put down an enemy of theirs without much effort. ("How'd you even do that? Can you show me?") And here he was now, the position reversed. He nodded. "Sure I can. We can hang out some time and I'll teach you." Would it be like a friendship? He only had one of those outside of the gang, a boy called Devin. I've never had a friend that's a girl before. "Where're your parents at?" he wondered. He didn't say it in the condescending way of someone who thought she was too young to take care of herself but the curious way of someone who was wondering why she was out here alone.

He listened with interest as she confirmed his curiosities, actually paying attention to what she said. There was a keen intelligence sparking in his gray eyes, the anger no longer overshadowing it. He had a temper but now that the threat had passed, he was starting to calm down a little. "That's cool. I don't think my parents chose my name for a specific reason." He shrugged, not really minding too much. His name didn't have to have meaning for him to like it. It was a little annoying that it wasn't an uncommon name sometimes, though. He had another Josh in his school that always picked on him and insisted that he'd somehow 'stolen' his name. How was he supposed to defend his parents' decision? "My middle name's like my Dad, though." There was a pride in his voice as he said this, the eleven year old lifting his chin slightly with a glint in his gaze. Despite how Donovan often treated him and how utterly terrified he was of the older man, he also wanted to impress him. The man was his idol, his father, so to have 'Donovan' as his middle name made him feel special in a way. Bryce didn't have anything like that. He watched her as she tried to say his name and his lips twitched when she gave up. "Fine with me." No one called him 'J', it was always Josh or Joshua but he didn't mind if she called him that. Nicknames were a sign of friendship in a way, as long as they weren't derogatory ones. Just like he called his best friend 'Dev' or 'DJ' most of the name.

He was not bothered by the fact that Lark didn't thank him. Though he himself had been raised to say please and thank you, to close his mouth when he was chewing, to hold doors open for strangers, it rarely bugged him when other people were not perfectly courteous. His parents were just weird. They had upper-class friends over a lot and Josh had to behave nicely around them and hang out with their kids even if he hated their guts on the inside. It was annoying but it was a part of his life and he took it in stride. "I'm not an expert but I know what I'm doing at least. My friends taught me." He did not say who those friends were, of course, but he did consider the gang to be his friends. They were good to him and they showed him a lot of things. They'd taught him how to steal things, too, though that was something Josh didn't get the point of. He had plenty of money from his parents, why should he need to take anything without paying for it? Still, he went along with it, because he wanted so badly to impress them. "Just 'cause you said damn? That's stupid. Parents are annoying." He rolled his eyes and looked serious about it. He grinned when she looked proud of herself. "That's the way to do it." Encouraging an eight year old to disobey her parents? Hell, it wouldn't be the worst thing he'd done. He tended to be a bad influence.

Ugh. His parents. He guessed it was only sensible that she'd return the question when he had asked her first, though. He was still mad at them and it showed in the way his gray eyes smouldered for a moment. "I got into a fight with my dumbass little brother so they grounded me." He couldn't remember a time when he was able to speak fondly of Bryce. A lot of his friends made up with their siblings soon after they argued but his brother was never nice to him so why should he be kind-hearted? "I broke the door and snuck out." He smirked, obviously just as proud of himself as Lark was of her own escape, and he held up his arm to show her where he'd cut it on the door. The scratch still stung but he could take it. There was still a dull ache in his jaw, an angry red mark where his father had backhanded him. He didn't tell her about that, though, because he didn't like people to know that his Dad hit him. People got all serious and asked questions. He didn't want his teachers to find out and for someone to report his parents. He hated them sometimes but that didn't mean he wanted to be taken away from his house. "Aren't your parents gonna be pissed when they realised you snuck out? I know mine are but I don't care." Oh he did care but he was acting tough, like all kids tried to do. He talked tough, but he knew he wouldn't be able to back it up when he was faced with the wrath of his father. He tried not to think about it.

He gave an important nod when she commented on his father. Donovan could do no wrong in Joshua's eyes and he would be perfectly content to spread the word of how great the man was. Even if he had left the house because his father had struck him across the face. "He is," the eleven year old said. "He's a doctor." He was proud of his father for being such a significant person. He had decided a few years ago that he wanted to be like that, he wanted to help people and wear a white coat and be called 'Dr. Dale'. The fantasies made him happy. It was supposed to be really tough, he'd researched it online, but he was confident that he could do it. Maybe he'd be able to get into a really good university like McGill. It was in Quebec but he could speak French thanks to his school. "What do your parents do?" Mum was a politician and Josh didn't really understand everything that she dealt with but he got the gist of it. Politics didn't interest him as much as his Dad's career in medicine did. He followed Donovan around a lot, pelted him with questions, snuck into his office and stole the medical journals to read. He had a feeling his Dad noticed when the books suddenly switched places on the shelves but he'd never said anything about it yet. He looked irritated at times when Joshua hounded him with curiosities but he always did his best to answer. Josh respected that a lot. His father knew so much. He was going to be like him some day.

He knew what it was like to be bullied, to feel like you couldn't fight back. When you were cornered on the playground, five against one, there wasn't much you could do. He remembered being pushed into the sand, picked on for his small size, called bookworm and dork. The words didn't phase him now but at six years old, being called a bookworm was high insulting and hurtful. "I'll show you how to kick their asses. Then they'll be the ones getting pushed around, yeah?" His eyes glinted and he gave her a friendly smirk that nevertheless suggested a dark enjoyment at the idea. He was not an extremely sadistic person but he could not pretend he didn't enjoy the idea of beating on people who hurt him. "Yeah," he agreed with her. She was smart for a younger kid, he decided. It seemed like she agreed with a lot of his views and that was cool. Devin was a great guy but it was nice to find someone who was as headstrong and angry as he was. "They swear all the fucking time and then they ground us for doing it. How stupid is that?" His parents didn't often swear at him but when they yelled at each other their words got nasty and cruel. It was scary when his parents yelled at one another because he was always worried that they were going to split up. He knew what divorce was and he didn't want his family to become a broken one.

He nodded. "A sister, too. I like her, though." His eyes gleamed with pride again. He liked being the big brother to his younger-by-seven-years sister. She was only five years old and she was really annoying sometimes but he still valued himself as her protector. His parents were constantly reminding him how important it was to be nice to his siblings. Bryce made that really, really hard. "You're not from Canada? Where'd you come from?" He had noticed that she had an accent but had refrained from asking about it, mostly because he wasn't sure whether it was really an accent or just the way that she talked. It was hard to tell with some people. Joshua had a prominent Canadian accent, enunciating all of his words the way that his fellows did. It was subtle compared to some accents, such as the British or French ones, but it was there. "I'm eleven. I probably don't go to your school 'cause I go to the private school in the city." His parents would only have their children educated at the nicest facility in the Hollow, at least nicest in their opinion. The fact that it was a French immersion was a bonus. "What about you?" She was younger than him, he could tell, but not by too much. She didn't look like a kindergartner, and since he was a sixth grader, so they'd probably have gone to school together if not for his parents' decisions.