Chapter 5.
Noah.
Oliver woke up in the morning to the sound of kicking at the door.
He got up quickly and opened the door.
An angry young man stood in the hallway.
I take it you're the new workhouse boy, he said.
Yes, Oliver replied.
My name is Oliver Twist.
He tried to appear friendly, although this was not a promising start.
This young man might be a new friend.
I'm Noah Claypole.
Noah poked Oliver in the chest as he spoke.
I've been here a long time.
Don't forget that I'm in charge of you.
The young man stared at Oliver.
How old are you?
I'm Ten years old, Oliver said quietly.
The promise of a new friend was quickly fading.
Oliver knew that Noah was looking for trouble.
Noah said, pretty small for ten.
Noah!
Oliver!
Mrs. Sourberry called from the cellar.
Come get your breakfast.
Charlotte handed each of the boys a plate.
You didn't waste any good bits on the workhouse boy, did you?
Noah asked.
He put his arm around Charlotte's shoulders.
Of course not, Noah, she giggled.
I only gave Oliver the fatty bits of meat.
You see how it is, Oliver, Noah asked.
You'll get nothing special here.
You won't take my place as the undertaker's assistant.
Oliver knew that Noah spoke the truth.
He knew it would be difficult working with a bully.
No one was on Oliver's side.
Noah picked on him.
Charlotte favored Noah.
Mrs. Sourberry yelled at everyone.
Mr. Sourberry paid almost no attention to anyone.
This was to be the pattern of Oliver's days.
He worked hard, ate fatty bits of meat, tried to avoid Noah, and wished for a friend.
Many weeks passed with little change.
Oliver helped Mr. Sourberry as best he could.
Every night he slept in his room with the coffins, thinking about his lost mother.
Every morning he woke up to Noah's taunts and a fatty piece of meat.
One morning Noah was in a particularly bad mood.
Both the undertaker and his wife had yelled at him that morning.
He had been caught taking a nap and then spending too much time talking to Charlotte.
Noah decided to take it out on Oliver.
"'So, workhouse!' he said to Oliver.
Noah often called Oliver by that name.
"'How's your mother?'
Normally, Oliver would take Noah's abuse without a word.
This was not to be one of those times.
My mother is dead, Oliver said sternly.
Leave her out of it.
His face grew red with anger.
Well, Noah smiled.
She's better off.
Take that back, Oliver said.
He stood up and clenched his fists.
Noah laughed.
We're all better off.
Don't need one more person living off the workhouse.
What did you say?
Oliver's eyes were filled with tears.
This was the first time Oliver had ever felt real anger.
Through all of the unfairness Oliver had been forced to live with, no one had ever insulted his mother.
You heard me, Noah replied.
We're all better off.
Oliver jumped on top of Noah and began hitting him.
Noah dropped to the floor and cried out for help.
Mrs. Sourberry and Charlotte arrived in a few moments.
They pulled Oliver off Noah.
Despite his small body, it was hard to pull Oliver back.
What on earth happened? asked Mrs. Sourberry.
I don't know, Mrs. Noah lied.
He sat up and rubbed his head.
Noah was confused.
He never thought Oliver would fight back.
He suddenly went mad, Noah said.
They could not calm Oliver down.
He tried to get out of their grasp.
As a last resort, they threw Oliver into a coffin and Mrs. Sourberry sat on top of it.
Noah, she said, run and get Mr. Bumble and hurry before this boy knocks me clear off.