Alone

Timmy Fifer was always the smart kid. He was the guy with all the answers, the kind of kid one wants by them during a difficult test. He was short for a thirteen year old, only reaching 4' 9" when standing up straight. He was the owner of a pair of piercingly blue eyes that seemed to see right through to a persons soul. He wore his hair short and neatly combed. Despite his kindly appearance and personality, Timmy never really had friends. Sure, he had "friends" when an assignment wasn't finished or on test day, but not during lunch or after school. He was a loner.
It was a rather dull Tuesday afternoon. The overcast sky promised rain and most of the spuirrels were hidden away in their nests and holes, snug and warm. Timmy ate his lunch on a lone bench by the playground most other kids had a group with which they would laugh and joke. Not poor little Fifer, though. Every now and then one of the bullies would elbow his friends and throw a rock or pinecone at Timmy. One of these boys, Henry Price, especially liked picking on Timmy. Whenever he saw Timmy walking by in the hall, he would stick his foor in Timmy's path. When Timmy fell and dropped his books, Henry and his goonies would laugh and call him a dork or stutterfoot. Then the mean boys would steal Timmy's books and play keep away with them. When they tired of this they would throw the books in the garbage can. As they left they would laugh and spit on Timmy. Yet Timmy never told a single soul, because those boys were bigger than him and would threaten him with physical harm if he was to tell. So Timmy just coped with it all day after day. Then after school he would go home to be beaten by his drunkard of a father. This was Timmy's life.
This particular Tuesday had been uneventful. He ahd left home early so as to avoid his father and Henry was sick, so no one was overly mean to him. So Timmy sat and enjoyed his lunch. He looked down to see that a squirrel had come up and was sitting by his side.
"Why hello there, little guy. You look starved. Would you like some pretzels?" The squirrel seemed to nod, so Timmy handed him a few pretzels. "Well now, my little bushytailed friend, I think I'll call you Charile. Would you like that?" the squirrel nodded again. "Ok, Charlie it is then."
Over the next few weeks Timmy and Charlie ate lunch together everyday. Timmy would always pack extra pretzels, which Charlie sould consume ravenously. They would sit together and Timmy would tell Charlie all about his problems. Both the boy and the squirrel were happy. Timmy had finally found a true friend.
One day Timmy noticed a large froup of kids gathered around Henry, who was holding something. Curious, he ventured nearer to see Henry pulling Charlie's tail. Charlie squealed and squirmed as the children laughed, which encouraged Henry to do it once more.
"Stop!" cried Timmy. Hery smirked at him and pulled Charlie's tail extra hard. Charlie screamed in agony. "That's my friend!"
"Oh really, dork face. Well then..." Henry lifted Charlie above his head. With a vicious smile he threw the squirrel high in the air. Charlie flew to the sidewalk where he landed with a sickening crunch. Timmy screamed in horror and rage. Henry and the other children laughed heartlessly and left for class. Timmy crawled to Charlie's limp body. How could Henry be so cruel? he thought. Then his sadness turned to furious rage. Henry Price would pay for his friend's death, he told himself. Then he laughed as the rain began to fall.
It was a sunny Firday. Timmy sat upon his bench eating his lunch. None of the other children were there. Oh no, they never would be again. He had made sure of that. He smiled to himself as a scream rang out from the school building.
Thirty years later, Chief of Police Joe Price and two of his deputies approached a hunched figure. As they neared, they heard a faint whisper. Chief Price spoke to the man. "Timmy Fifer," he said, "your under arrest for the massacre of the students of Sunray Middle School in 1993." Timmy rose and laughed sinisterly.
"You mean the service of justice." He continued laughing as the deputies escorted him to the squad car. Joe remained behind staring at the abandoned school building. Thirty years, he thought to himself, and I've finally have the chance to put the man who killed Henry behind bars. As he turned he noticed a small mound of dirt with a cross sticking out of it by his feet. Leaning toward it he read the inscription aloud, "Here lies Charlie, my only companion. He was cruelly murdered and righteously avenged." Joe Price, Chief of Police and a solid man, shuddered in horror.