Page 33 of Mav

“Did you bring anything to eat?”

“I did, and I will get to it once I’ve finished making your bed. If you make sure the trash can in the living room is empty for me, that would save me some time.” I don’t look at him, but continue to hum as I grab the sheets I removed and take them to place in the washing machine.

In the kitchen, I take out the chicken breast I had placed in the fridge, along with the other fixings for the stir-fry I’m going to make. I can hear the washing machine on its cycle as I chop, dice and slice. Now maybe the little shit will be ready to speak, I think to myself.

“Okay, so what’s eating you up and why are you being a miserable so and so?” I ask Ed, who has taken a seat at the table, to watch me cooking.

“I’m bored. I know I’m old, but I’m not dead yet. I’m bored with sitting around this house with nothing to do.”

Ah, I see, he needs a purpose… “Well, you could help me out if you can, that is, as I have a slight problem that needs solving on Friday afternoon.”

Ed leans forward with such eagerness to hear what I need help with that I struggle to keep the smile from my face. He looks like a young child that is excited about the next adventure they are going to be jumping into. “What do you need help with?”

“I have a dining set that the Swap Shop is going to pick up at around three in the afternoon. But I will be at work, so I need someone I can trust implicitly with my house key to wait for them to pick up and then lock up the house.”

“I can do that. I’ll have a cab pick me up and bring me back. I will watch them take the set and then lock up the house safely.” Ed is giving me a huge grin, and I can see a sparkle in his eyes. Maybe I can do more with Ed and give him a purpose?

“Thank you, Ed, that’s very kind of you. Now eat this chicken stir-fry before it goes cold or I won’t make you another next week.”

Before I leave for the night, I give Ed my address and tell him I’ll bring the spare key for the house tomorrow when I come to work. He’s all fired up about getting out of the house and I kiss his cheek before leaving, and giggle when he blushes like a teenager.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

-:- MAV -:-

It’s only the middle of the morning and I’m on my way to kindergarten with Mia because the twins have been acting up. I knew it was a bad idea to send these two. I told Axel and Mia to have a private tutor for them so they could be at the house and not amongst other kids, causing chaos.

“I’m sorry, Mav, I know you said it was a bad idea, but they need to mix with other children. They can’t spend all their lives within the compound.”

Mia must have felt my annoyance at having to come to school because the two hooligans have caused chaos in the classroom. But I’m not one to say I told you so, so I keep my mouth firmly closed. After all, Mia is the First Lady of the club. I give a customary grunt because I have to respond in some way and I can’t find any words to say how annoying this is without blowing up.

Walking into the school, I stay one step behind Mia, keeping my eyes peeled for any kind of trouble. I’m not sure why because come on, we’re at kindergarten, what could happen? A bite on the ankle, kick in the shins, or some other minor thing?

The teacher from the twins' class greets Mia and gives me a small nod of the head, along with a smile as she leads us into a classroom where the twins are sitting near the window. They give a cheerful wave and laugh between themselves. Little fuckers, I’m thinking! But I notice they are covered in paint, bright purple paint at that. I give the teacher another look-over and shit, that’s when I see the little bastards have thrown painton the woman. I hadn’t noticed as I’d not seen the back of her. But now, as she’s explaining to Mia what happened, she turns and here is the evidence.

“Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I’ll speak to their father and get him to do something.” I give Mia a look of surprise because what the fuck is Axel going to do? Nothing, that’s what. He’ll laugh his ass off at the image I’m going to relay to him. But it’s the very careful and calculated way Mia is speaking to the woman that has me mesmerized. Anyone would think she is well-to-do, and she’s obviously been learning more shit from Star.

“We cannot have the twins causing trouble in the classroom. But they are young and boisterous, so I know it’s hard to keep them well-behaved all the time. I don’t mind them running around, but I can’t have them throwing paint on other children.”

“What?” Mia asked in a shocked voice, and I look at the twins out of the corner of my eye and those two hooligans are giggling between themselves.

The teacher relays all that happened, which basically is the twins threw paint on another kid, as he was bullying one of the girls in class when the teacher wasn’t looking. Yeah, sneaky little shit is what he is. So, the twins took it in hand and poured cans of paint on his head.

The door bursts open and a woman storms into the room shouting about having the twins thrown out of school because they are not good children, and need educating how to mix with other children. Now, I fold my arms over my chest and think where’s the popcorn, because Mia is a hurricane when it comes to protecting her kids, and this is going to be something to watch. In fact, thinking that I take out my phone and hit record.

“Shut your mouth about my children! Your child is a bully and if he wasn’t bullying a little girl, my boys wouldn’t have had to stand up for her. My boys were being little gentlemen and I’m sure proud of them,” Mia shouts back at her.

The teacher is looking from one to the other, then glances at the twins who have opened their backpacks and taken out their small packed lunch that Amelia made for them, and sit eating as though this is a normal day at school.

“My son is not a bully!”

"Mrs. Granger, the truth is, Simon was bullying Abigail, but the twins put a stop to it." Calmly, the teacher addressed Mrs. Granger with an unreadable expression.

“Boys, come on, we’re going home,” Mia and I both watch as the twins pack up and walk towards her, both with huge smiles on their faces. Neither has said a word throughout this fiasco.

“I want them out of this school.”

The woman persists, but I keep recording the incident and give the teacher a wink when she looks over at me. Turning back to the irate parent, the teacher, who I now see has a name tag, is called Mrs. Evelyn Brownlee, states firmly, “Children are children, and you need to take Simon home, clean him up and teach him about bullying. We have an anti-bullying policy at the school and it doesn’t matter what age someone becomes a bully, it means they still are one. Now, if you want him to grow into a well-rounded and sensitive adult, you need to teach him that bullying is not something that is tolerated.”

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