The press of boys surrounded the newcomer, jeering and baying loudly like a pack of dogs out on the hunt. One of them, a big, burly lad of around fifteen, looked to his g**g of acolytes, l*****g drooling lips in expectation, and jabbed the much more slightly built boy in front of him in the chest with a meaty finger.
“Edwin? What sort of a name is that?”
Edwin held the other’s hard stare, unflinching, even a little defiant. He looked from one contorted boy’s face to the next. “It’s my name,” he said. “What do you want me to say?”
A louder chorus of laughter. The big lad shook his head, pulled a face, and chimed in a mocking, sing-song tone, “Poor little Edwin – far from home and all alone!”
“Leave him alone, Stanmore.”
The new voice cracked like a whip, causing all of them to turn and
