March

I really like using the name Gary. For a long time I have had an image in my head of a young boy named Gary, and he likes to come out in different stories I create. This was a random piece I wrote the other day. While there is no obvious fantasy element in this short piece I left it open ended so that I can maybe add on to it in another post. 

 

It was a bright day in Pinnerlane. The kind of day where the sun streams in through the clouds creating a halo effect. Gary Silva looked up and was surprised to not see a hand reaching down from the skies, as the scene was just that impressive.

All around him the wind stirred up the fallen, malted leaves still scattered over the side walk from the previous winter. It was a brisk March day, the kind that Gary really enjoyed, as the cold still nipped at his nose, but if he stood long enough in the sun, he could feel its warmth engulf him.

He was wearing his large woollen mittens, and his very heavy winter coat as he walked home from school with his mother. She was only wrapped in a light trench-coat, and wore brown leather gloves with holes in them. Gary liked to hold onto her exposed pinkie finger, that protruded through the glove.

The day was March 23rd, a Tuesday and Gary had just completed a day at school. Tuesdays was always a fun day for Gary as they had boy’s games and art in the same day. Today however, he was a little grumpy as they had moved onto their gymnastics lessons, and had rolled around the school hall in their vests and underwear.

“I can’t wait until 3 weeks’ time, because we start rounders then.” Gary told his mother. He went on to explain how all the boys had got together and complained about doing gymnastics. He also recanted a funny story of how they had all laughed at Calvin Gaffer because he had a hole in his underwear and that everyone could see his bum cheek. His mother had thrown him a disapproving look at this point and went on to explain how rude he was being.

“Everyone has flaws, Gary. It is not nice to vocalize them, and make fun of them for it.” She had the furrow between her eyebrows that she always got when she was annoyed. “Remember when you got teased by those boys for being half Indian.”

Gary stopped talking at that point. He didn’t like getting told off by his mother. What he didn’t know however, was that she also hated telling him off. Being a single mother, meant that Colette Beck was both mother and father to Gary. It often took its toll on her in terms of finances, and meant that she had to refuse a lot of things.

“How was math? Have you been working hard?” She asked more sweetly, to which Gary perked up again and recounted all the numbers to 100, and even told her how he had been moved onto the 2 times table.

“You know, mum and today I had special classes with a special teacher.”

“Oh you did, did you?” His mother asked smiling. They walked to the end of Worple Road and took a right.
“Yes. Her name was Mrs. Azazi and she said she was a math teacher, and that she wanted to see how clever I was. She gave me a bunch of tests to do, and I had to do my work with this other girl, and she looked like and angel and she was so pretty.” Gary’s mother stopped in her tracks.

“What did you say her name was.” She asked seriously, holding Gary by the shoulders.

“Mrs. Azazi.” Gary said. He looked at his mum, her face was etched with worry. He held a small hand to her cheek. “What’s wrong mummy?” He asked.

Collete said nothing. She grabbed firmly onto her son’s hand and began walking very fast up the road. Gary limply followed behind her like an over-stuffed teddy-bear.

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