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Apr. 25th, 2015 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fry_sandhuFry had tried to be kinder to Tommy after their fight, even if he still thinks it was Tommy's fault. Not least since he discovered Tommy has a weekly class with the special education teacher too, which as far as Fry is concerned means calling him 'thick' was possibly a bit harsh.
It doesn't seem to have stopped Tommy from striding around the playground, or, more annoyingly, from having developed the habit of hitting tennis balls against the wall of the hall.
"Do you have to do that?" he asks, one break, when the ball bounces off his book.
"Yes." Tommy says. "I'm a talented tennis star."
"Are you?" Fry asks, having not paid any attention in assembly when they clapped him in assembly, too busy putting his hands over his ears from the noise.
"Yes, I'm playing for the country." Tommy says. "Look."
For the hundredth time that week, he gets out the letter, and hands it to Fry. Fry had gathered that he was getting a lot of fuss about something, but since it was Tommy, hadn't especially cared.
He reads the letter.
"You're playing for a Country club." he says, handing it back. "Not country. A country club is a place where posh people play golf. They keep trying to get Dad to join."
One of Tommy's older brothers, Mark, happens to be passing by at Fry's assessment of this, and bursts out laughing.
"You didn't seriously think you were playing for England?!" Mark laughs, clapping his little brother roughly on the shoulder. "What an idiot!"
Seeing Tommy getting laughed at by his 11-year-old brother, and that he's gone bright red, Fry wonders whether that's why Tommy spends so much time making fun of others. He attempts to repair the situation.
"It's good that you're good at tennis though." he offers, "Because it will make up for you not being good at other things."
Apparently, this isn't taken as well as he hoped. Tommy looks like he's about to burst into tears.
"You're a jerk!" he says, lobbing his tennis ball at Fry in a temper. "I'm good at loads of things. You're just jealous because you can't play tennis and nobody likes you so there."
"Careful Tom, you might get beaten up by the retarded kid again." Mark laughs.
Fry's eyes flick to make contact with Mark. Oh no he just did not. But before he can come up with his answer, Mark has gone off, laughing, and Tommy has gone off in a temper. And nearby, Brooklyn is hovering, watching them.
"What's retarded?" she asks, swinging her skirt.
"A mean word." Fry says. "I'm going to do revenging on him, and if you call me that I'll do revenging on you too."
Brooke, who has experienced the threat of revenging before, decides not to join Mark on the list today, but files the word for later.
Fry has a lot to think about that evening. What if really nobody likes him? How would he tell? What can he do?
***
"Oi, you!"
Mark storms up to him in the playground the next day, during morning break, accompanied by a few other year six kids. The three tower over Fry, with their best 'I'm bigger than you' expressions.
"Yes?" Fry asks, looking up from his book.
"Did you padlock my lunch box?" Mark asks, incredulous. "And leave a maths problem with it for the code? I want my snack!"
"Yes." Fry says. He closes his book. "I made it up in my head, so if you think I'm retarded it should be easy for you."
"Woah, Mark, you never said you called him retarded." one of the kids with Mark says. "You can't do that, it's like a swear word."
"It's not a swear word." the third kid says. "It's disablimination."
The three have a discussion as to what exact social misdemeanour the word 'retarded' counts as, but seeing as he's lacking backup from his own team, Mark eventually concludes that he might have been wrong.
"I didn't mean it, kid." he says, grudgingly. "Sorry. Unlock my lunch box and we'll call it even?"
"Okay." Fry says, going back to the cloakroom to retrieve his padlock. "But only if you give this to Tommy." he adds, getting out a good luck card from his pocket.
Mark looks at the card.
"Sure. But I thought you guys hated each other."
"I don't hate Tommy." Fry says. "He just winds me up, like you do to him."
He pockets his padlock and walks off, leaving Mark to have a think.
It doesn't seem to have stopped Tommy from striding around the playground, or, more annoyingly, from having developed the habit of hitting tennis balls against the wall of the hall.
"Do you have to do that?" he asks, one break, when the ball bounces off his book.
"Yes." Tommy says. "I'm a talented tennis star."
"Are you?" Fry asks, having not paid any attention in assembly when they clapped him in assembly, too busy putting his hands over his ears from the noise.
"Yes, I'm playing for the country." Tommy says. "Look."
For the hundredth time that week, he gets out the letter, and hands it to Fry. Fry had gathered that he was getting a lot of fuss about something, but since it was Tommy, hadn't especially cared.
He reads the letter.
"You're playing for a Country club." he says, handing it back. "Not country. A country club is a place where posh people play golf. They keep trying to get Dad to join."
One of Tommy's older brothers, Mark, happens to be passing by at Fry's assessment of this, and bursts out laughing.
"You didn't seriously think you were playing for England?!" Mark laughs, clapping his little brother roughly on the shoulder. "What an idiot!"
Seeing Tommy getting laughed at by his 11-year-old brother, and that he's gone bright red, Fry wonders whether that's why Tommy spends so much time making fun of others. He attempts to repair the situation.
"It's good that you're good at tennis though." he offers, "Because it will make up for you not being good at other things."
Apparently, this isn't taken as well as he hoped. Tommy looks like he's about to burst into tears.
"You're a jerk!" he says, lobbing his tennis ball at Fry in a temper. "I'm good at loads of things. You're just jealous because you can't play tennis and nobody likes you so there."
"Careful Tom, you might get beaten up by the retarded kid again." Mark laughs.
Fry's eyes flick to make contact with Mark. Oh no he just did not. But before he can come up with his answer, Mark has gone off, laughing, and Tommy has gone off in a temper. And nearby, Brooklyn is hovering, watching them.
"What's retarded?" she asks, swinging her skirt.
"A mean word." Fry says. "I'm going to do revenging on him, and if you call me that I'll do revenging on you too."
Brooke, who has experienced the threat of revenging before, decides not to join Mark on the list today, but files the word for later.
Fry has a lot to think about that evening. What if really nobody likes him? How would he tell? What can he do?
***
"Oi, you!"
Mark storms up to him in the playground the next day, during morning break, accompanied by a few other year six kids. The three tower over Fry, with their best 'I'm bigger than you' expressions.
"Yes?" Fry asks, looking up from his book.
"Did you padlock my lunch box?" Mark asks, incredulous. "And leave a maths problem with it for the code? I want my snack!"
"Yes." Fry says. He closes his book. "I made it up in my head, so if you think I'm retarded it should be easy for you."
"Woah, Mark, you never said you called him retarded." one of the kids with Mark says. "You can't do that, it's like a swear word."
"It's not a swear word." the third kid says. "It's disablimination."
The three have a discussion as to what exact social misdemeanour the word 'retarded' counts as, but seeing as he's lacking backup from his own team, Mark eventually concludes that he might have been wrong.
"I didn't mean it, kid." he says, grudgingly. "Sorry. Unlock my lunch box and we'll call it even?"
"Okay." Fry says, going back to the cloakroom to retrieve his padlock. "But only if you give this to Tommy." he adds, getting out a good luck card from his pocket.
Mark looks at the card.
"Sure. But I thought you guys hated each other."
"I don't hate Tommy." Fry says. "He just winds me up, like you do to him."
He pockets his padlock and walks off, leaving Mark to have a think.
