Free Staking Her Claim...: Book 1 in the Patricks' Brothers series by Natasha Thomas Page B

on sports, baseball being one of the top two. The other being football.
     
    Throughout Thomas’s questioning by the class, boy number one stayed silent and aloof. He didn’t even so much as register the animated conversation going on around him. Something I thought was strange seeing as most new kids tried to fit in as soon as they could. No one liked being a social outcast or so I thought, but this boy seemed more than happy to fade into the woodwork.
     
    Drawing his attention, Ms. Atkins asked,
    “And what about you, young man? Would you like to share your name and something about yourself?” When it looked like he would decline, she insisted. “Please stand and let us know your name at least. It would be a shame to call you, ‘young man’ for the remainder of the year.”
     
    This was met with laughter from the boys and giggles from the girls, but I remained silent with my eyes focused solely on the sad boy silently pleading to be left alone.
     
    After a beat or two, he stood slowly. He was graceful, fluid in his movements like he didn’t want to expend more energy than necessary.
    “I’m Rob. I moved here from, San Diego, two and a half months ago.” And then he sat, not opening himself up to any further questions. This was evident from the tight line of his shoulders, and the shuttered expression he wore.
     
    Knowing she wasn’t going to get the surly boy to engage, Ms. Atkins went on to call the roll, and set our first English task for the year, a condensed journal of our summer break. Harper rolled her eyes at me, but I was far too fascinated by the troubled expression on Rob’s face to pay her any mind.
     
    Sheer terror had passed through Rob’s eyes before it melted into a look of disgust. However, with a pat on the back from Thomas, a brief nod of understanding and a wink, Rob seemed to settle but not without what I would soon learn was his trademark scowl firmly in place.
     
    All of this only made me more determined to befriend him. A plan I was determined to put into place as of today. Robert Leighton, I’d learned his full name during roll call, isn’t going to know what hit him, because when I put my mind to something; I always win. And in this case, Rob is the prize.
     
    As the days turned into weeks, I found that watching Rob was a more enjoyable past time than almost anything else. By the time we were nearing the three-day break for Thanksgiving, I’d learned almost nothing personal about Rob. All I knew was that he is a fantastic baseball player, he played first base, R ' ob isn’t originally from San Diego but all over, he lives in a foster home with Thomas, and he is perpetually in a bad mood. He didn’t try to make friend’s, he didn’t socialize with anyone aside from Thomas, and he wasn’t interested in participating in anything unless it was absolutely necessary.
     
    Aside from that, the only other things I learned were based on assumptions I’d made. I had no idea if I was even in the ballpark, but if I was, then I was more than a little worried about him. Thomas too.
     
    There were more than a few days, Rob came to school cradling his ribs or his arm gingerly. He sported bruises all over. All of this I noted when the hem of his shirt would rise past the waistband of his jeans, and I could see the colorful array of fading and fresh bruises marring his otherwise perfect skin.
     
    Thomas noticed me watching his friend one day when Rob was warming up for gym class, and for the first time willingly approached me.
    “You know he hates that you watch him.”
     
    Taking my gaze off Rob for a moment, I reply,
    “Well, that's a shame because I plan on being his friend.”
     
    It was a simple statement of fact, and one I didn’t expect to make Thomas laugh, but nevertheless that’s what he did. Once he was able to get control of himself he looked me over and nodded firmly.
    “Good. He needs another friend, and I think you’ll be perfect for the job.” Narrowing his eyes