A World Apart The Jake Thomas Trilogy - By Steven A. Tolle Page 0,7

behind. Jake pulled his earbuds out and shoved them in his pocket as his mind raced to figure out what he should do.

"I told you this wasn't over, asshole." Donald said as he moved closer to Jake. "I know you're a pussy, but to go crying to my girlfriend? Now she is all pissed at me. That is something else I'm going to take out of your hide."

"I didn't go crying to your girlfriend. Someone saw what happened at lunch and told her." Jake said. He shifted back a step and raised his hands, palms out; John and Robert moved to cut him off if he tried to run. "Man, there is no need for this. I told you that I didn't know you two were dating."

"You should've checked." Donald stepped within arm's length of Jake and stopped. "You have been asking for this for a long time. I should've kicked your ass at the party last year."

Jake glanced at John and Robert, trying to see if he could get by them. He didn't think he could and turned back towards Donald. "Look, I don't want to fight, especially against three dudes. Why don't you…" Jake began. The next thing he knew, he was lying in the dirt, the left side of his face throbbing, Donald standing over him, smirk on his face, fists clenched.

"That son of a bitch hit me!" Jake thought, shocked. His shock transformed into anger. He pushed himself up to his knees and, before anyone could react, leapt up and charged Donald. He ducked under Donald's arms, planting his shoulder into his chest and drove Donald backwards into the car. The impact knocked the wind out of Donald's lungs, doubling him over.

Jake took a half step back and lashed out with a right hook, attempting to knock Donald out. His fist only made it halfway before it was violently stopped as he was yanked back by Donald's companions, each grabbing one of Jake's arms. Jake struggled against the restraints, but could not get free.

"You're going to pay for that." Donald rasped as he caught his breath and straightened. "Hold him." He advanced on Jake, face angry, fists clenched.

Jake continued to try to break free, anger boiling over. "It must suck to need others to fight your battles. Face me yourself, you pussy. Are you afraid…?" Jake cut off as Donald delivered a blow to his solar plexus, stunning him and knocking the wind from him. Before Jake could move, another hard blow took him in the ribs, pain radiating into his right side. Jake tried to avoid the next blow that went high, but, with his arms held tight, his ability to move was minimal and was hit directly in the face, his lip splitting, the hot iron taste of blood in his mouth, ears suddenly ringing. Jake's vision went blurry from the pain and sudden tears in his eyes. Donald's companions snickered at the sight as Donald landed another hook into Jake's ribs.

Through the pain and ringing in his ears, Jake heard the sound of another vehicle stopping suddenly. A deep voice boomed out. "Hey, you kids knock that shit off!"

Jake's arms were released, his captors moving away, and he collapsed to his knees, hands pressed down to prevent himself from falling over, blood dripping onto the ground.

He looked up through his tear-stained eyes and could make out the blurry form of George Madison, the farmer who lived down the road from Jake's house, stepping away from his truck, which he had stopped in the middle of the road.

"Drake, you have about two seconds to get your sorry ass and those two other knuckleheads out of here." Mr. Madison said, voice even and stern.

Mr. Madison was a tree trunk of a man. He stood around six three, broad shouldered with a large close-shaved head and deep-set dark eyes under bushy eyebrows. He must have weighed a good two hundred and fifty pounds. While age had added a small layer of fat, he still seemed to be nothing more than muscle and bone. "If you're not gone by the time I get over there, I may have to teach you boys a lesson."

Even though he had always been nice to Jake and his family, Mr. Madison had a reputation around town as a dangerous man. Years ago, he used to drink heavily and had nearly killed a man with his bare hands during a drunken rage. He did a year–long stint in prison for that, but