Page 22 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
11
Sideways Picks
‘So,you think you can just like, do your colouring and ignore me? You’ll get a dead arm in a minute—’
Gavin Gordon stood over Matthew Bridges’ table with one little fist raised, while the tiny boy’s hands covered over a partially coloured picture of a Roman legionnaire. Spotting the potential situation early, Jennifer left the Jarder twins to finish their poster on Ancient Egypt and quickly slid between the two boys.
‘No, Matthew does not want a dead arm,’ she said, ducking down to get into Gavin’s eyeline. The stocky, slightly overweight boy had a sour look on his face, his eyes a little gummy, not unintelligent but overwhelmed by a need to commit violence.
‘Gavin, can I have a word with you outside for a moment?’ Jennifer asked.
‘I didn’t do nothing,’ Gavin protested. ‘I was just saying.’
‘Come with me.’
Head bowed, Gavin followed Jennifer out into the corridor, no doubt expecting yet another dressing down. Having had to keep him back at lunchtime two days in a row last week, Jennifer was pleased that today she had something different to say.
‘Gavin … I need to ask you something important.’
‘I didn’t hit him.’
‘I know you didn’t. I was watching you. This isn’t about that. This is about the harvest festival.’
Gavin just nodded and stared sullenly at the floor, perhaps expecting to be told he was to be excluded. She knew how much that would hurt him, as despite his bluster and regular threats of violence against other children, the poster he had made for their class’s wall display was as good as anyone’s. Although, to be fair, he’d had a couple of extra lunchtimes to work on it, Jennifer remembered with a smile.
‘Our class is in charge of the cake stall this year,’ she said, as Gavin looked up at her, his face defiant, ready to protest any attempt at exclusion. ‘And … we need a manager. Someone to coordinate all the other pupils. The manager must make sure everyone who’s family is able to—and we’ll talk about that—has provided a cake, then decide pricing, organise who’s going to work behind the counter, that kind of thing.’
Gavin continued to stare at her, the penny yet to drop.
‘And I’ve decided that this year you will be the manager.’
Gavin’s eyes widened. ‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. You, Gavin.’
‘But what about Bridges, or that swot Vickers? He always does stuff like this.’
‘I have plenty of other duties that need to be allocated. But for this duty, I’ve chosen you.’
‘No way.’
‘Are you pleased?’
Gavin just shrugged.
‘I’m afraid it’ll mean you’ll need to sit with me for a few minutes on some lunchtimes to go over the plans, but it’ll only be for a few minutes, and it’s not as a punishment. It’s just that managers have certain duties.’
‘And I get to pick my workers? I bet Lemon would do it—’
‘Within reason. I think Paul Lemon would be better suited to car park duty. But we can discuss it. So … what do you say?’
Gavin gave her a beaming smile, and from the tone of his voice, Jennifer could tell he was happy. ‘Yeah. Go on then.’
‘You’re out of your mind.’
Rick stood by the coffee machine, a mug in his hand with a Starbucks individual filter poking out of the top. The way he drank his coffee with the filter still in the cup irked Jennifer no end, to the point where she hoped one day it would flop out while he was taking a sip and upend itself down his shirt.
‘I think it was inspirational,’ Amy said from her desk, where she was lining rubbers up against a ruler and then cutting the smudged edges off with a Stanley knife. ‘It might be just what that boy needs.’
