I crawl to your name

"What's wrong with your voice?" The boy demanded, putting his hands on the little girl's shoulders, pushing her back. The child caught herself, looking up at the boy with calm brown eyes. She said nothing, only rubbed at one shoulder. The boy glared, and pushed her again.
"Say something! Go on, say something in that funny voice of yours again!"

Ainsley Stewart simply looked at her feet, not allowing the older boy to see the anger in her eyes. Ainsley had the patience of a saint, and it took a great deal more than merely being pushed around to ignite the child's temper. The boy shoved her once more, knocking Ainsely to the ground. She winced, but stayed where she had fallen.
"There's nothing wrong with my voice, nor the way I talk." The child's father was a scotsman, and she held a trace of his native accent in her soft voice. It was what the boy deemed as 'being wrong' with her voice.

Her classmate picked her up by the front of her shirt, setting her feet on the ground.
"Oh yeah? That isn't what I would call a normal voice!"

Ainsley wished desperately that one of her older siblings could be here- but Isobel and Christian weren't in the country, and Jake didn't go to this school anymore. The boy put his face in hers, and snarled. Again, Ainsley calmly looked back at him, glare for glare. This was unheard of, on the school's playground, and the boy walked away.
"Eejit." Ainsley scoffed.

Unfortunately for the little girl with the big brown eyes and matching braid, the boy heard what she'd said, and turned, smashing his fist into her face. The eight year old fell to the ground, trying not to cry or show the boy how much pain she was in.
"Ainsley!"

The voice roared across the playground, and all the children stopped to stare at the boy who now walked across the grounds unhindered. He was a tall boy, with messy brown hair, and brown eyes that mirrored and personified rage. It was Jacob Stewart, Ainsley's older brother, and the child who had inherited Jonathan's temper. True, it took a great deal to anger him, but hitting his younger sister had done it.

Before any teacher's had stopped him, Jake shot a glare to the boy who had hit his sister.
"How dare you! How dare you hit a little girl who simply has a different accent?!" The accent in his own voice came creeping out, reinforced by his anger. "If I ever see you lay a hand on my sister, I will not be responsible for my actions!" Turning from the boy, Jake knelt by his sister's side, grateful for a half-day and his mother's instructions to pick up his sister from school.

"You alright, Ains?" Ainsley shook her head, her hands over her face. Gentle hands belonging to her big brother pried her hands away, looking at the eye that was already turning red and purple. Jake stood up, hoisting his skinny sister into his arms, and carrying her off the playground. He had no intentions of stopping, and would let his parents deal with it. In the meantime, he wanted to get Ainsley home and get some ice on her eye.

And figure out a way to keep their relatives from killing someone.