When school ended, Bram quickly gathered his things and ran after Clover. He stopped when he was close and approached quietly with a mischievous grin on his face. Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder. "Clover, my boy, I have a plan," he said in a theatrical fashion.

Clover's eyes widened. The last time Bram had thought up a plan, it hadn't ended so well- but then again, no one knew Clover had lied (he still felt bad about that, though) and he'd gotten a new coat in the end anyway, so maybe Bram had been more clever than Clover had thought. "What kind'a plan?" he asked, looking at the older boy with a curious and slightly-wary gaze.

Bram gave the younger boy a devilish grin. "It's really secret," he said in a grave tone. He led Clover to an alley and there he stepped back, put his hands on the boy's shoulders, and looked at him. "I've come up with a brilliant plan to take revenge on them boys who stole your coat." Here he paused to build up the anticipation. "We'll put dog poo on their seats before school, and then when they sit down and get up again, everyone will think they've shat themselves."

Clover was, to put it simply, horrified. God would never forgive him if he did something like that, he thought, barely noticing how wide his eyes had become and the way his mouth was open in an 'o'. "WHAT-" Clover clapped a hand over his own mouth to stifle his voice, which had come out much louder than he'd meant it to, and stared at Bram. He shook his head. "I- I don't- but I got a coat, Bram," he insisted and tugged at his lapel to show that indeed, he was wearing the new coat. He stepped back, out of the reach of the older boy's hands on his shoulders, and shook his head vehemently. "I- I don't think I could ever do somethin' like that, unless they- they killed a kitty, or somethin'!"

Bram was shocked, and then disappointed, with the boy's reaction. And most of all his pride was hurt. He had hoped that the younger boy would admire his cleverness and courage. He shook his head. "That's because you're only six."

"Seven!" protested Clover fiercely. "Seven and almost two months!" Well, more like a month and a half, but it was close enough for a little boy's judgment. "Can't we do somethin' else to 'em? I would like to get them back for beating us up the other day." He said this last part only half-in truth, as he mostly just wanted for Bram to see he was no wimp.

Bram stepped back, folded his arms and looked at the boy sceptically. "Like what?"

"Um, ah..." Clover trailed off. "You're the one with the good ideas," he evaded, "can't you think up somethin' else?"

A frustrated frown appeared on Bram's face. "You're t' one who doesn't like me idea," he argued. "So you have to come up with sum't better. Otherwise we have to do my idea."

Clover grumbled. "Fine, fine, we'll, uh-" He looked around but there wasn't much to see. "we'llllllllll hide THEIR coats!!" He looked at Bram, fingers crossed behind his back. "And we won't tell 'em where they are, they'll just 'ave to find 'em themselves!"