"Enough, nobody is getting hanged. You need to hold your tongue, Bram. Now. The fight is over." He bellowed this in his deep voice with the intention of hopefully getting the kids to behave. To Clover he asked, "Are you alright?"

Clover nodded slowly, then with a little help, stood up. He felt a little dizzy, but otherwise okay. "Thank you, Mr. Meijer," he said, honestly grateful for his teacher's help, "I still wish I could find my coat, though."

Bram didn't want to get in trouble, so he held his tongue.

For the whole of five seconds.

"Phillips stole it!"

"I didn't, you twit!" the older boy shouted.

"Bram! Enough." God, he thought, but the children were testing his patience today. "I am sure you will find your coat if you look in the last place you had it, Clover," he said gently then. "Why don't you and Bram look for it now? And when you find it, all of you boys will have to stay after school to clean the erasures." Because, damn it, he had to punish all of the children involved in the fight.

Clover's head dropped with shame. Surely his Pa would be annoyed with him now- first losing his coat, then fighting, and now causing worry by coming home late. He didn't want to go in the classroom with the older boys now- he knew that if Mr. Meijer left the room, they'd be all over him and Bram in an instant, and he wanted to avoid any further fist-forward confrontations. "Yes, Mr. Meijer," he said, accepting his punishment, and went back to the fence post to check for a fifth time for his coat. It wasn't there, as he'd suspected, but he waved Bram over and muttered to the boy who he was starting to look up to, "If we stay out here long enough, we can avoid them boys and the erasures."

That shut Bram up, alright. It was already quite late and if he came home even later, his father would be home and demand an explanation. Perhaps he could say Clover was attacked in the streets, and Bram had fought to protect him, but they had passed out. That also explained why he was entirely covered in mud.

Bram gave Mr. Meijer a wronged look and followed Clover to search for the coat. He nodded at the other boy's suggestion. "But what about your coat? Them boys still need to give it back."

Clover sighed. "I don't think we've got any chance of getting it back, if they took it, even." He tucked his hands in his pockets, his head still drooped. He considered something for a moment, then asked, seeking the older boy's advice, "Bram, what do I tell my Pa? About the coat and the- the fight."

Bram just stood there with his hands in his pockets, because he didn't know where else to look for the coat and he was cold. He thought and then his face lit up. "Oh, I know! What if we say robbers robbed us and took your coat because they were lookin' for money! That's also why we got beat up and are covered in mud. Then your father will be glad you're alive and hug you and buy you sweets and you won't be in trouble."

When Bram had gotten kidnapped, father had hugged him. And Alice, Anne, and Will had put their little pocket money together and bought him sweets to cheer him up.

Maybe he could pretend to be kidnapped sometime...

Clover frowned, reluctant at the idea of lying, but slowly found himself warming to the idea. After all, Bram was a full two years older than him- surely he knew what he was talking about. After a long moment, Clover nodded and smiled weakly at Bram, his head throbbing. "Thanks, Bram, that's a good idea." Another beat of thinking passed and Clover's brow furrowed once more. "But why would robbers try to hurt us? We're just kids."

Bram loved the fact that the younger boy was listening to him. Nobody else ever listened to him. He pursed his lips in irritation when Clover questioned his idea, however. "Why, because we tried to fight them off to protect your coat, of course," he said, like that was the most logical thing in the world and only people under nine wouldn't understand that, because they weren't smart and mature enough yet.