The Chosen Brother
“Give him back! Don’t—you’re hurting him!” Lucy, choking on her tears, pounded the boy who’d snatched her kitten away. She hit him with all her might, but it was no use. The boy just laughed, squeezing the tiny, fragile body tighter. Desperate, Lucy sank her teeth into his hand. A second later, she was flung sideways. A metallic tang filled her mouth, her chin burning as something warm trickled down. She wiped her face with her palm—red. Squeezing her eyes shut, she screamed with everything she had.
“Help!…”
Strangely, someone heard. Hearing the boy yelp, Lucy cracked her eyes open. From where she lay, her vision was blurred, but she caught a glimpse of his scuffed trainers kicking up as he was thrown to the pavement. He scrambled to his feet, voice sharp but not half as smug as before.
“What the—?! Are you mad?!”
“I’ll do worse than that if you don’t clear off! And if I catch you near her again, you’ll answer to me. Got it?”
The man—no, not a man, just an older boy—spoke lazily, like he couldn’t be bothered.
Lucy turned her head. Just her luck—another stranger. He’d stepped in, sure, but what came next? Panicked, she scanned the ground. There—! A tiny, motionless fluffball lay crumpled on the pavement. Still crouching, she crawled over and touched it gently. Still breathing. Cradling the kitten to her chest, she willed her legs to move—but they wouldn’t.
“Alright, little ‘un? Blimey, you’re in a state.”
The boy who’d rescued her crouched nearby—gangly, awkward, maybe fourteen. His eyes searched hers, trying to gauge her fear.
“Let’s have a look. Bit your lip, did you?”
“Dunno…”
“Right. Well, up you get. Can you stand?”
Lucy shook her head. The shock hit her full force, and she burst into tears.
“Oi, none of that! He’s gone. Won’t touch you again. If he does, you tell me. Yeah? And what’s this, then?”
A grubby hand, nails bitten short, reached for the kitten. Lucy shrank back, curling protectively around it, sobbing harder.
“Alright, alright! Won’t touch it. Don’t fret.”
She couldn’t stop. She never should’ve come out without Nan. Big girl, my foot—she’d begged to go alone, nearly in tears herself. Nearly seven, for heaven’s sake! All her mates roamed free, and here she was, still trailing after her grandmother like a toddler.
“Lulu, love, who’s walking who, eh?” Nan had chuckled. “You play, I natter with the girls—what’s the harm?”
“But everyone knows you’re watching me!”
“And?”
“I’m not a baby!”
“Never said you were. You watch me, I watch you.”
“I want to go alone!” Lucy had sulked. Nan just smirked—same stubborn streak as her dad. He’d been just the same. Always had to do things himself. But he’d been a boy. Lucy was—well. A girl.
“How ‘bout we ask your mum, eh?”
“Fat chance! She’ll never let me!”
“Asked her yet?”
Lucy shook her head. Mum was strict. A surgeon—had to be, she said. Patients wouldn’t listen otherwise. But Lucy wasn’t sick, and Mum still laid down the law. “No” meant no. Still… Nan was right. She hadn’t actually asked.
Mum surprised her.
“You’re growing up,” she’d said. “But I need to trust you. So—promise me something.”
“Okay. What?”
“You stay in the courtyard. Nowhere else. If you can do that, you’re ready.”
“What about the swings?”
“Where are the swings, Lucy?”
“…Next courtyard.”
“And what did I just say? Think.”
“Can’t go.”
“So why ask?”
Lucy had nodded, triumphant.
Then broken her promise immediately.
First, Ellie from Flat 35 showed up. They’d jumped rope awhile before Ellie announced she was off to the swings.
“I can’t,” Lucy mumbled, glancing at their windows. No sign of Nan—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t watching.
“Suit yourself!” Ellie hesitated. “Just for a minute? She won’t even notice!”
Lucy shook her head hard. No. Mum would never trust her again.
Ellie shrugged and dashed off. Bored, Lucy perched on a bench. The yard was empty. Maybe just a quick trip—? She glanced back once, then bolted after her friend.
Twenty dizzying minutes later, they headed back—and found the kitten sprawled on the path by the next building. No mother in sight. They combed the bushes, calling—nothing.
“Poor mite. Eyes just opened. Can’t survive without mum,” Ellie murmured as Lucy cradled the squeaking scrap.
“How d’you know?”
“Had a cat once. Mum told me all about kittens. Gave her to Gran after. Now we’ve got Sphinx.”
Lucy blinked. “Who?”
“His real name’s posh. Like a pharaoh’s.”
“A what?”
“Ancient king. Egypt. They loved cats. Sphinx looks like ‘em—bald.”
“Bald?”
“Well—fuzz, but barely there. Wrinkly. Scares Mum half to death, but she adores him.”
Lucy hesitated, then held out the kitten. “You take him. You know how—”
Ellie shook her head. “Sphinx’d bully him.”
“What, then?”
Ellie’s mum called before she could answer, and she dashed off with a hurried “Tell me how he gets on!”
Alone, Lucy studied the shivering creature. Right. Nan’d know what to do.
She never made it home.
A sneering voice cut in: “Oi, shrimp. What’ve you got?”
Then—hands snatching. Pain. Blood.
And now this boy, still hovering.
“Why’d you…?”
“Why’d I what?”
“Help me.”
“Shouldn’t I have?” He smirked, offering a hand. “Up you get. Blimey, your mum’ll tan your hide.”
“Mum won’t. Nan might.”
The boy stiffened. “You live with your nan?”
“Yeah.”
“Your mum…?”
Lucy frowned. “Course I live with Mum. Just not Dad.”
“Oh.”
“He’s… gone.” Her voice tightened. “Was an army doctor.”
“Right.”
Silence. The boy—Jake, she’d learn later—finally spoke.
“You?”
“Just Nan.”
“Your parents?”
“Got a mum.”
“Dad?”
“Never had one.”
“What’s your mum do?”
His face darkened so fast Lucy backtracked. “Don’t have to say!”
He nodded stiffly, staring past her.
“Could you…”
“What?”
“Walk me home. In case he comes back?”
“Said he won’t. But if you’re scared—alright.”
He plucked a leaf, dabbing gently at her chin. “Cor. Proper warrior princess, you.”
“Shut up!”
“Nice one, though. Nan’ll have kittens if she sees you like this.”
“She’s brave. Like Dad.”
Taking his hand, clutching the kitten, she led him home.
Nan waited by the door. “Lucy! Look at the state of you!”
“Don’t be cross! Look—” She held out the kitten. “He’s alive, Nan. He was crying before, but now—”
“You first! Where does it hurt?”
“Nowhere.”
“Inside, then. And who’s this?”
“He saved me! Proper knight!”
“Did he now? And what’s your name, young sir?”
Lucy gaped. She hadn’t even asked.
“Jake.”
“I’m Margaret. This one’s grandmother. Pleased to meet you.”
That evening, Mum didn’t shout. Just talked. And talked.
“I trusted you,” she finished. “If you’d stayed put, none of this happens. That boy shouldn’t have had to fight your battles.”
“The kitten—?”
“That’s the only decent part of this mess. But Lucy—what if you’d been hurt? Nan couldn’t have helped. I was at the hospital. You’ve seen how accidents happen.”
“Mum, I’m sorry—”
“Promises, Lucy. Stay in the yard. One more slip, and that’s it.”
They kept the kitten—Sooty—much to Nan’s amusement. (“You two nurse it, I do the work!”)
Next day, Jake sat waiting on the bench.
“Thanks,” Lucy blurted. “Forgot yesterday.”
He shrugged**Adapted Version (continued with one sentence):**
The years melted away, and on a crisp autumn afternoon, as grown-up Lucy pinned a medal to Jake’s uniform—his first as a full-fledged paramedic—she whispered, “My turn to save you now,” and handed him the tiny, scarred paw of the old tabby who’d started it all.
