"I'm off to school Mum" I said over my shoulder. Over my other shoulder I carried my bag, sliding door blabbed and I was off. Hayden was outside waiting frustrated look on his face. Forced to walk to school with my brother and I. My brother always late. The sun high enough over the hill to hit the tips of the grass melting the subtle frost and making it seem more like dew.
"Where's your brother?"
"Oh he's still getting ready." I said in the most entitled voice I had.
"How long do you think he's going to be?" his tone slightly abrupt.
"I don't know, you'd have to ask him."
Hayden looked evidently frustrated. I hid my smirk. But in two minutes I'd be just as frustrated, as my brother searched for certainties my mother didn't have.
Without reproach the three of us walked to school, the dew looked lke tiny diamonds hanging from the grass and dark green shoots were forming on the treelines of the residential streets. Yes Daffodils August's only bragging rights perhaps.
"Don't talk to me" Hayden said.
I longed to mention to him that I found him to be the dullest possible individual I had ever met. And that it was convenient that he'd requested silence. Although he did seem to know more about things than my brother and I. Better neglect than foul influence perhaps.
Down the predictable short slope to school. Hayden marched forward pretending not to be associated with us. He had skin that automatically blushed so easily, it reddened so deeply one wasn't sure if he was hellbent bitter angry or ashamed. Other people's opinions weighed heavily on him, certainly not ours, clearly.
After about a decade or so my brother would learn how to conform with the common norms just like Hayden. Mimicking the popular expressions and behaviour to fit in. I'd be the sore thumb doing something weird and embarrasing others and sometimes even myself. That day at school my passive swagger got me through without too much effort.
Hanging my school bag on the hook in the cloakroom which was right next to the bathrooms, the smell of urinal cakes and mold from some of the other kids school bags. So unkempt and clumsy the class would have made a popular comedy series. The stale dusty smell of the classroom. The teacher forcing herself to greet us.
"Hi sweet heart, how are you this morning" she beamed.
"What did I do to deserve such a welcome" My mind was screaming, But I didn't actually say it.
"Good mrs Brown" A programmed answer that seemed to turn the lock.
Before I could dwell on the idea some child was doing something interesting enough to capture my attention. Or I was dragged off by another early arriver to do something they needed a plus one to play with.
At 15pm the day was done and I was on my way home, my brother would find me on our predictable route home. The ground dry and warm by a few degrees now, Morning seemed another universe.
For the afternoon held promise of a few free hours before dinner and the tedious inquisition about the day with mother. More questions I wouldn't be able to easily answer.
On our last league of the journey home, a few questions did pop up though.
"Simon what does (Insert curse word) mean?
"Do you think we'll see Dad tonight?"
I felt like a cash empty bank with lines of people asking for money. I had nothing to offer and no way to dodge the questions. I sometimes made up answers and when my brother found out, he'd rebuke me for days on end. The truth was I didn't know what the words meant. I didn't know where my father was.
Past Michele's house who they called fleabag, I never understood bullying at that early stage.
Past may's house a thin sticklike cricket enthusiast a year older, obsessed with sports and cursing us when he got the chance. Past the cree's house a fattish friend of my brothers with a strange english father. Then on to the flat combed lawns of my home street. So familiar, external, yet inside me.
Hugging me when I was distraught and alone and taught that my problems were my own.
The sliding door blabbed as I pulled it open, babysitter on the couch pretended with less forced effort than the teacher
"Hi simon, so good to see you, where's your brother?"
"He's coming" My brother would often walk a few paces behind as we got into the house.
The smile she gave me wasn't completely fake. Which seemed to rid me of the burdens I'd typically carried home with me.
My brother kicked off his favorite gumboots.(his only pair, but he prefered them more than shoes, probably because there was no laces, and tying shoes involved hours of screaming). I hung my bag in the laundry and went to the kitchen.
Having no idea of the world I lived in, another day at school seemed to change nothing, my brain, my heart and soul seemed to generate a tiny percentage of the awareness I have today. Curiosity was never scarce, however everything was a mystery that required much too much effort to investigate.
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