George bested Timothy in everything. He was better at his sums, better at spelling, hand-writing, reading and tying his shoe-laces. George could run faster than Timothy, was always first-pick at football and had more gears on his bicycle. George always had the best sweets in the playground, the smartest new trainers, the most fashionable t-shirt and his haircut was always on trend.
And above all that, George always had the attention of Rosie. Before George had come to their school, Rosie and Timothy had been inseparable. Now she barely gave him a second glance. Well, that would change.
The school trip was the perfect opportunity. They were visiting some old cathedral with towering arches, collapsed roofs and crumbling walls. Timothy watched from the back of the group as they were given the tour. George and Rosie were at the front, hand-in-hand, smiling and laughing. George answered every question the guide asked them.
Then it was break. Everyone got a packed lunch and after they’d eaten there was ten minutes to explore the cathedral grounds. Timothy saw George and Rosie walk under the arch at the end of a long pathway, out of sight from the rest of the class. This was his chance.
He crept up to the arch. From his school backpack he pulled the gun. This was it, this was his moment. He spun around the corner, gun raised, and fired. In a split-second the rapid fire deluge was over.
Rosie and the tour guide stood drenched in the red paint, dripping from their clothes. George didn’t have a spot on him. As Rosie burst into tears, George put his arm around her to console her.
Timothy was frozen, paintball gun by his side. The teacher came running towards them screaming Timothy’s name. George glanced back at him, guiding Rosie away in his arms, and smirked.
One day, thought Timothy, one day I’ll get him.