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"How did that happen, Beluchi?" the maths teacher asks.
"Martin."
"Hm?"
"You're not even pronouncing my first name right, and I like my middle name better. Martin."
"All right, Martin. How did you get this bruise?"
"Ran into a doorknob."
"What about that one?"
"Tripped. I have velcro shoes now though and Mum thinks that might help."
"What about the cut on your knee?"
"I tripped then too only I was holding scissors."
"Be- Martin, you realize this is a lot of injuries, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
"Is anyone at home hurting you, Martin?"
"...Huh?"
"Is your mum, or maybe an aunt or uncle or grandparent -"
"What?"
"Now, calm down and don't shout, it's -"
"She never! She would never! I fall! Ask the phys ed teacher, ask anybody, she never ever! Not even if I drive her barmy staying up late reading or not eating my spinach never don't you dare talk about my mum like that -"
"Martin -"
"And don't interrupt me!"
"Martin. I had to ask," says the maths teacher. "I'll talk to the phys ed teacher, okay? And the school nurse - do you fall at school, too?"
"Sure. I walk. I got the cut at school, I don't have to scissor anything at home and -"
"Okay."
"Don't interrupt me it's rude -"
"Martin, stop talking back, or I'll send you to the headmaster's office."
Martin snorts derisively. "Can I go? My mum never."
"Yes," sighs the teacher. "You can go have recess now."
Martin opens the door out of the office. That was probably a little louder than the teacher had originally intended; any stragglers still in the classroom and not on the playground may have heard the entire thing.
well_known
pine_away
There's one boy who happened to hear the entire thing, because he needs to make sure all of his books and papers and pencils are all in their right places, just so. He frowns at Martin in a - confused sort of way. Not upset, just thoughtful.
"Are you all right?" he asks, when his red pencil has gone to the second pencil holder (not the third, thank you, Ziva once borrowed it and his highlighter and she put them back incorrectly).
"Are you all right?" he asks, when his red pencil has gone to the second pencil holder (not the third, thank you, Ziva once borrowed it and his highlighter and she put them back incorrectly).
well_known
"She kept interrupting me," mutters Martin. "No, I'm okay. I don't remember you, are you new this year?"
pine_away
"Well my first dad was defective so I picked up another at the market. Then we binned my mum because Ziva and I didn't want to live with her."
well_known
Martin giggles a little at the description, though not too much. "Well, that's good, I'm glad you have a good one now. Do they sell them at Tesco's?"
pine_away
Giggling appears to be the appropriate response! Darian smiles back.
"Me, too! No, we didn't actually buy him, he just - sort of. Showed up. And then became our dad after lots of paperwork. No Tesco's."
"Me, too! No, we didn't actually buy him, he just - sort of. Showed up. And then became our dad after lots of paperwork. No Tesco's."
pine_away
"How else would she find things, if she keeps lots of stuff in there. They would have to be tiny people, though, to fit in the bag." Pause. "Or at least thin."
pine_away
"But how do they get in the bag? Were they just born there? Is it a bag filled with people and leprechauns?"
pine_away
"Like with the penguins? ... That makes sense. Maybe it goes to the place with the penguins?"