Chapter 3

Now that summer is in full swing, Dennis and his gang have taken to roaming around the neighbourhood, looking for entertainment.

(Or perhaps the ice cream truck—they never seem to be very picky about what their goals are.)

Unfortunately for Henry, this means that whenever his Aunt and Uncle kick him and Dennis out of the house, Henry spends a lot of time on his feet, running. Because no matter how many of Dennis's friends are allowed out at the time, Dennis is sure to seek out his entertainment in the form of his favourite game:

Henry Hunting.

And so Henry has had little opportunity to make use of his new magic ring. All his free time is eaten up either with chores, or by staying one step ahead of Dennis and his friends.

For some time now, Henry's only goal has been to get away long enough to call Mr. Matthew.

So when he and Dennis are released into the hot summer's day, Henry runs, the weight of the ring bouncing against his chest, reminding him that there is a reason to keep going, to get away, because eventually there will come a time when there is someone for him to run towards, not away from.

Today, however, is not Henry's lucky day.

Not for the first time, Henry wonders if he'd used up all his luck on that day at Mr. Gordon 's house. It has been over a week since Mr. Matthew's last visit, and Henry hasn't gotten a single moment alone that hadn't consisted of being shut up in his cupboard.

While Mr. Matthew had said that Henry was allowed to call him at any time, Henry does not want his new friend anywhere near any of the your uncle's.

The reasons for this are many, but what it really boils down to is one main fear that Henry can't quite articulate for himself. It is a fear that once Mr. Matthew meets your uncle's and hears what they have to say, he will agree with them that Henry is a freak, unworthy of time or presents or kind words.

Dennis and two others are close behind him, running with all their might. Although Henry is much quicker than they are, he is clumsier and he is tired. Henry consists of skinny, wobbly legs and a dry, parched throat from being cooped up for most of the morning.

The advantage of being small and fast lasts long enough for Henry to reach the local park, but it is not enough to save him from tripping on his untied shoelace and sprawling onto the grass, his glasses askew.

Henry scrambles to his feet, frantic, but by then he is too late—Dennis and the others have caught up, and the game is on.

Dennis lands hands on him first, shoving hard, and Henry stumbles back, nearly falling, trying to push his glasses back onto his face so he can see.

Henry is used to being pushed around, to having a few bruises here and there from Dennis's foot connecting with his shins. But today is the only day Henry has been caught, and Dennis must be feeling particularly happy about this because he grins widely.

"Hey, freak!" jeers Piers. "We caught you now!"

"Freak!" repeats Dennis. It is the word that Dennis had learned from his parents. It is the word that Henry knows separates him from everyone else.

Henry starts to move away again, but the boys spread out, daring him to try and move past. It's unfair, Henry thinks, that they can do this only because there are more of them.

Piers aims a kick, but Henry leaps out of the way, nimble. Henry feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the anger on the other boy's face.

"No one likes you!" Dennis shouts.

Henry shouts back without even thinking about it, saying, "That's not true! Shut up, Dennis!"

Because it's not true, it isn't, Henry has a friend now, someone who likes him, and the proof is hanging from his neck, tucked behind his shirt.

The bullies exchange an uneasy glance. Henry has never yelled back like this before.

"It is true," Dennis says with confidence. "You haven't got any friends. Who'd want to be friends with a freak? A freak with no parents. A big crybaby."

Henry grits his teeth, but his hands ball into fists.

"No one wants to be your friend," Dennis continues, oblivious to the twisting and churning going on in Henry's stomach. "And no one will ever want to be your friend."

Henry snaps.

He flies forward, waving his arms wildly, kicking and punching in every direction. Some of the blows land, too, and Dennis yowls in pain, swiping in retaliation, but Henry is no stranger to pain, he can weather it.

It takes both of the other two boys to pull him off Dennis. Henry is still fighting back, still scratching when he can, but it's harder when he's outnumbered. Henry ends up on the ground, curled up, arms wrapped around his stomach and head, ignoring the attempts to hurt him.

"You're crazy!" Dennis yells, half-sobbing. "You're crazy. I'm telling dad, and then you're gonna pay for this! You're gonna pay, you freak!"

At the sound of Dennis's voice, the bullies retreat, and Henry risks sitting up.

Dennis has tears in his eyes and is rubbing at his reddened face. Henry glances down at his own injuries, where the concrete had scraped his skin, the spots on his arms and legs that will bruise from the kicks. It hurts, but he feels... a rush.

He might be hurt, but Dennis is hurt, too. And the look of fear on the other boys' faces might be enough for them to think twice before they chase Henry again.

"Let's go," mumbles Piers, uncertain.

"You're gonna be in so much trouble," Dennis spits out, but the effect of the threat is somewhat ruined by the tears streaking down his face.

Henry spits on the ground at their feet. Dennis flinches. The spit is a little pink. His tongue is sore, so he must have bit it by mistake. Still, Henry doesn't feel like it hurts very much, and the blood does look impressive.

The three boys back off, leaving the park, leaving Henry alone by the playground.

Once he's sure that they're gone, Henry limps his way over to a bench and sits down. After looking himself over, it's really not so bad.

They had kicked him a few times, but they'd been too afraid to get close, and so the kicks hadn't been very hard. The worst of his wounds are from where he'd fallen on the concrete.

Henry runs his fingers over the old scabbing on his knees, brushing out the dirt in the new exposed areas. He'll have to go to the water fountain to clean it out and make sure all the dirt is gone. Henry flexes his legs experimentally, wincing at the tug. Maybe in a minute, when he's not as tired.

So instead, Henry thinks back on what Dennis had said about him. That he has no friends.

"It's not true," Henry whispers. "I have a friend."

Automatically, his hand reaches up for his necklace. For his ring. Proof that there is someone who cares. Someone who cares about him.

But it's hard for Henry to remember that Mr. Matthew exists when Henry is sitting here by himself, his arms and legs sore. The doubt is there in his head, and it is not so easy to shake.

It has been over a week, and Henry hasn't used his ring at all.

What if Mr. Matthew thinks that Henry doesn't care anymore? What if Mr. Matthew asks for the ring back because Henry's been such a horrible friend? Dennis and his friends hang out almost every day now that it's summer. Henry isn't able to do that.

Anxious, Henry runs his thumb over the bumpy metal. But the action that had helped calm him all week long no longer feels as comforting.

Maybe he should call Mr. Matthew right now. There is no one around, the park is empty, and when Henry goes back home today, all that will happen is he'll get in trouble. He'll be locked in his cupboard again, and then he'll have no chance at all to call.

Besides, Henry had told Dennis that he has a friend, and it is true. As of right now, it is true. Mr. Matthew had said so.

(We are friends, after all. And friends never lie to each other.)

Henry shifts on the bench, scrunching his face as a new bruise makes itself known. He has to call now. Henry repeats this thought a few times in an attempt to convince himself.

What's strange is that Henry can imagine a stern voice in his head telling him not to be silly, that the ring is meant for calling, and that of course Mr. Matthew would very much like to come and visit.

Henry bites his lip and rubs at his forearms, battling with his mixed feelings.

Okay, he should. He should do it. If he doesn't do it now, then he won't be able to for a long time, and it would be rude to ignore Mr. Matthew without any explanations.

Henry will tell Mr. Matthew that he won't be able to call for some time, and that he'll understand if the man doesn't want them to be friends anymore since Henry can't play together every day.

Carefully, Henry tugs on the black ribbon looped around his neck. He hasn't taken it off since he'd gotten it. The ring slides up and over his shirt collar, dangling from his hand.

The ring is a lot bigger than all of his fingers, and so Henry spends some time trying to decide which finger to put it on.

Eventually he settles for the thumb, even though that's not really a finger for rings. Henry is more worried that it won't work because it doesn't fit properly. But surely Mr. Matthew would have known that Henry's hand would be too small for such a thing?

Henry slides the ring on. The metal is warm from resting against his sweaty skin. Once the ring is settled, Henry thinks he can feel a weird hum in his hand.

The hum must be magic.

Henry closes his eyes and allows his mind to create a picture of his friend. Not the man-shaped form, but the other one, the one with the big horns and the claws.

The humming grows. The ring grows warmer, too. Henry hums along with it, a quiet sound to match the magic.

He imagines that Mr. Matthew is standing here with him, right now. He wishes harder than he ever has for anything in his life.

The humming stops.

When Henry opens his eyes, panicked, he sees that his ring is glowing a very bright red.