Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men by Robert N. Charrette Read Free Book Online Page B

responded to his questions about her fretfulness, which was a little unusual; she was usually frank about her feelings. She was probably just in a funk because John had a date tonight.
    He didn't like it when she acted this way, and had hoped he and she could talk it out. But she had made herself scarce, and they hadn't talked much. Even when she was around, she was far less communicative than usual, so he really didn't know if he was right or wrong in his suppositions.
    She'd get over it.
    He had just begun to think he detected her lurking around, when he noticed that the frat boys had pulled up and were blocking the entire walkway in front of him. They were hooting and hollering and egging on one of their number, a hulking jock by the name of Winston whom John remembered from his days on the frosh B-ball squad. Winston had been long on brawn and short on brain, and something of a bully. He and John hadn't gotten along at all. Winston was shoving a smaller kid around and shouting slurred insults. Some things never changed.
    Winston's victim was much smaller than he was, a slender kid wearing glasses. Glasses! Nobody but geeks wore glasses anymore. The kid looked vaguely familiar, but John couldn't recall his name. It came to him when he heard the kid's reedy voice yelping in protest when Winston snatched his glasses. This geek was one of the freshmen who had made advanced placement into John's second-year Global Studies program. Trahn was his name.
    Jocks and geeks, a natural antipathy, and not something to get involved in. John edged his way through the outer fringes of Winston's frat brothers. Intent on their brother's harassment of a lower life-form, they let him pass. John felt sympathy for the kid and hoped things wouldn't get too physical; in the past, he'd received more than enough similar attention. John cleared the knot of jocks and jock sympathizers and headed north. It wasn't his problem.
    Hardly a noble reaction. Would D 'Artagnon look the other way?
    John felt his cheeks grow hot. I'm not D'Artagnon.
    No. Just John Reddy.
    Right. John Reddy, not D'Artagnon. John Reddy, who's got a date tonight. John upped his speed a notch. The sooner he was out of earshot of the hazing, the sooner he could forget it.
    So much for nobility, John Unready.
    A couple hundred yards ahead, a group of women turned the corner onto the lane. A dozen or so of them, more than twice the number in the hazing party. The girls would see what was going on and hurry prudently on their way. They'd be all right.
    John spotted Kelley among the approaching group. If the girls saw what was happening, they'd know he had seen it as well. What would Kelley think if John just walked away from someone who needed help? He was back on the fringes of the hazing group in a few quick strides.
    "Hey, Winston. You're not being very sporting."
    Hand still gripping Trahn's bunched shirt, Winston looked over at John. His eyes narrowed in recognition. "If it ain't the ghostly broomstick. Fade, or you're next."
    Winston turned back to Trahn, giving him a slap across the cheek. John elbowed his way past one of the jocks and grabbed Winston's upraised wrist. "Guy like this isn't much of a challenge for one of your obvious attributes."
    "You want the same?"
    "No."
    "Then walk away."
    They stared into each other's eyes. Winston was partly drunk; John could smell the alcohol on his breath. Not a lot of judgment left behind those piggy eyes. At the periphery of his senses, John could tell more of a crowd was gathering. Was Kelley among them? He didn't want to look around and see. There were too many people watching. Unlikely a bully like Winston would back down now.
    Still, John wanted to give him a chance. He released the jock's wrist and offered a placating smile. "You've had your fun. Leave him alone now and nobody'll complain. Isn't that right, Trahn?"
    "Ain't your business," Winston growled. "Ain't that right,
    Trahn?"
    "I've made it my business," John said, dropping