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May. 14th, 2018 08:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fry_sandhu"We're not having fish for tea tonight." Fry says, as he walks up the playground with his siblings.
"But it's Monday." Coral says. "We always have fish on Monday."
"Not any more." Fry says.
"Why?" Coral asks.
"Because I'm not a spoilt brat." Fry says. "Wilford says that if we have the same meals every day of the week because I find it easier that makes me a spoilt brat."
"What have those things got to do with each other?" Coral calls after him as he strides off.
"Stuff that, I like fish!" Brooke protests. "I want fish for tea!"
Gil chews his fingers worriedly, and shortly after goes off to his nursery class, where he gets all in a tizz when Miss Brimstone asks him what day it is. Quite unable to work out whether it is still Monday, because there isn't going to be fish, he has to watch Esme-Rose get the gold star he should have got for telling the teacher what day it is.
Coral decides to catch Fry at break time and tell him not to listen to Wilford, but it starts to pour with rain. Mr Irons declares a Wet Break, and they all have to stay in their classrooms.
Brooke, also confined to her classroom, takes the opportunity to draw a big fish, which she labels 'My tea' and then folds into an envelope to give to Mum later.
Fry stares gloomily out of the window, feeling very out of sorts. Wet Break isn't in his schedule, and everyone is always noisy and annoying when it happens. He gravitates over to the big Expression Board at the back of the classroom. Mr Mags had installed it, and said anyone could draw on the white space. It was one of the few things of his Ms Owlswick kept when she took over, though they'd had to replace the paper from time to time as it got full.
He settles in one corner and begins to draw sin cos tan triangles over and over with his black sharpie, which he's been saving for such an occasion. School black felt tips are never up to scratch. The repetition of the three equations makes him feel calmer, until someone nudges into him from behind, causing him to smudge one of the Hs.
"Watch it!" He complains, looking around.
"You watch it." Ben says, moving from the rocket he's drawing. "What's all that rubbish?"
"Maths." Fry says, trying to neaten up his triangle.
"But it's just letters in triangles." Ben says.
"Advanced maths." Fry says.
"Well it looks stupid." Ben says. But then he glares. "And look at all the room you've taken up! Where are Jamal and I going to put the top of our rocket?"
"Not my problem, I was here first." Fry says.
Ms Owlswick comes over to find out what the argument is about.
"Fry is allowed to express himself on the expression board." she says firmly. "And he used the space first, which is the rule. But it would be kind, Fry, if you would let Ben put a triangle of coloured paper over the top of a few of your triangles for the top of his rocket."
"But I was here first." Fry protests. "Why should I?"
At that moment, the bell goes for the next lesson. Ms Owlswick sighs.
"We'll have to resolve this later. And Fry, I don't want you using sharpie on the Expression Board, it's going to mark the pinboard underneath."
Fry sits back in his seat, feeling even more cross. Wet break, having to give up his triangles for Ben and Jamal's stupid rocket, and now he's got to use a different pen to complete his pattern.
Half an hour later, the fire alarm goes off. How the school could possibly be on fire in the middle of the pouring rain, Fry doesn't know, but the options are either stay in the building with the agonising noise and possibly catch fire, or go and get wet. Ms Owlswick, who had been pre-warned that Fry tends to scream and clutch his ears when the fire alarm goes off, is somewhat relieved when Fry decides to go out and get wet, and lets him get on with his advanced maths quietly for the rest of the morning.
By lunch time, Fry has calmed down somewhat and decided that maybe he will let Ben have his triangle on the rocket after all, as it will cover the smudged 'H'. But as he goes back to the classroom from the dining hall to let them know, Ms Owlswick takes him aside.
"Fry, I realise this has been a difficult morning, but I can't excuse vandalism." she says, angrily.
"What vandalism?" Fry asks.
Ms Owlswick pushes open the door of the single toilet and points to the sin cos tan triangles written on there with sharpie.
"You will spend lunch break scrubbing this off." she says firmly. "Running over it with whiteboard marker should get it off."
"It wasn't me." Fry says.
"Someone told me they saw you doing it." Ms Owlswick says.
"Who?" Fry asks, indignantly. "Was it Ben?"
"No, it wasn't Ben." Ms Owlswick gets him a cloth and a whiteboard marker and tells him to get cracking.
All the little kids come past and stare at him and giggle. Eventually, Ben wanders past with Jamal, the two of them looking very smug indeed.
"You set me up, didn't you?" Fry says to Ben.
"Not me." Ben says.
"Jamal then." Fry glares at him.
"Prove it." Jamal says, grinning. "Come on Ben, let's go draw our new rocket on that coloured paper Ms Owlswick is getting out."
By the time he's finished scrubbing, the rain has finally stopped. He goes to report to Ms Owlswick at the staff room.
"I was falsely accused." He says, handing her the cloth. "And I'm mortally offended that you didn't believe me."
"If you really didn't do it, then I'm sorry." Ms Owlswick says. "But it's difficult when it's one person's word against another, Fry." She sighs. "Can you take this pen back to the classroom, and this note to the office on your way outside please?"
Fry takes the note and leaves. Miss Havisham, who is sitting in the staff room as Ms Owlswick comes back, gives a sniff.
"He usually does tell the truth, you know."
"But who else would graffiti maths?" Ms Owlswick asks.
"Someone who wants to get under his skin." Miss Havisham says.
Fry stomps back to the classroom. He deposits the pen next to the board, and then his eye falls on the rocket pictures sitting on Ben and Jamal's desks. Impulsively, he takes the pictures, folds them, and goes to the office with the note from Ms Owlswick. He hands the note to the woman in the office.
"Can I use the shredder please?" he asks.
"Go ahead, love." the office lady says. "So long as you promise not to stick your fingers in."
It takes just a second to shred Ben and Jamal's pictures. But it's not as satisfying as he thought it would be. In fact, when he sees Ben and Jamal's faces at the end of break when they discover their pictures gone, a look of distress that even he can recognise, he feels distinctly uncomfortable.
"Bad day?" Mum asks him, when he's laying the table for dinner.
Fry nods. And then he sniffs.
"Is that fish?"
"Of course it's fish. It's Monday." Mum says.
"But I told you you don't have to do that for me." Fry says.
"I'm not doing it for you." Mum says. "You want to try doing food shopping every week, for six people, Coral being fussy and me being deathly allergic to nuts. And how many meals do you think I know how to cook anyway? So you're having fish. And you only need to set five places, your dad's on call."
Fry feels suddenly relieved. Gil comes to the table and cries with relief that it's Monday after all. Coral decides she does like fish today, and Brooke feels that the success is entirely down to her persuasive picture.
"Mum?" Fry asks quietly, as they clean up after dinner. "I did something today I don't think I should have. What should I do?"
"Depends what you did." Mum says.
"Someone did something mean to me, and I did something mean back." Fry says.
"Well Fry, we've talked about 'revenging' before." Mum says. "It tends to make you do things that you might regret later. Sooner or later, one of you needs to make peace. Was it Ben again?"
"Partly, yes." Fry says.
"Ben will be going back to America in just a few months." Mum says. "And then you'll never have to deal with him again. If you feel bad about what you did, say sorry to him." She closes the dishwasher. "Do you want me to have a word with Ms Owlswick?"
"No, I think I've got this." Fry says. "Thanks Mum. For the chat. And the fish."
"But it's Monday." Coral says. "We always have fish on Monday."
"Not any more." Fry says.
"Why?" Coral asks.
"Because I'm not a spoilt brat." Fry says. "Wilford says that if we have the same meals every day of the week because I find it easier that makes me a spoilt brat."
"What have those things got to do with each other?" Coral calls after him as he strides off.
"Stuff that, I like fish!" Brooke protests. "I want fish for tea!"
Gil chews his fingers worriedly, and shortly after goes off to his nursery class, where he gets all in a tizz when Miss Brimstone asks him what day it is. Quite unable to work out whether it is still Monday, because there isn't going to be fish, he has to watch Esme-Rose get the gold star he should have got for telling the teacher what day it is.
Coral decides to catch Fry at break time and tell him not to listen to Wilford, but it starts to pour with rain. Mr Irons declares a Wet Break, and they all have to stay in their classrooms.
Brooke, also confined to her classroom, takes the opportunity to draw a big fish, which she labels 'My tea' and then folds into an envelope to give to Mum later.
Fry stares gloomily out of the window, feeling very out of sorts. Wet Break isn't in his schedule, and everyone is always noisy and annoying when it happens. He gravitates over to the big Expression Board at the back of the classroom. Mr Mags had installed it, and said anyone could draw on the white space. It was one of the few things of his Ms Owlswick kept when she took over, though they'd had to replace the paper from time to time as it got full.
He settles in one corner and begins to draw sin cos tan triangles over and over with his black sharpie, which he's been saving for such an occasion. School black felt tips are never up to scratch. The repetition of the three equations makes him feel calmer, until someone nudges into him from behind, causing him to smudge one of the Hs.
"Watch it!" He complains, looking around.
"You watch it." Ben says, moving from the rocket he's drawing. "What's all that rubbish?"
"Maths." Fry says, trying to neaten up his triangle.
"But it's just letters in triangles." Ben says.
"Advanced maths." Fry says.
"Well it looks stupid." Ben says. But then he glares. "And look at all the room you've taken up! Where are Jamal and I going to put the top of our rocket?"
"Not my problem, I was here first." Fry says.
Ms Owlswick comes over to find out what the argument is about.
"Fry is allowed to express himself on the expression board." she says firmly. "And he used the space first, which is the rule. But it would be kind, Fry, if you would let Ben put a triangle of coloured paper over the top of a few of your triangles for the top of his rocket."
"But I was here first." Fry protests. "Why should I?"
At that moment, the bell goes for the next lesson. Ms Owlswick sighs.
"We'll have to resolve this later. And Fry, I don't want you using sharpie on the Expression Board, it's going to mark the pinboard underneath."
Fry sits back in his seat, feeling even more cross. Wet break, having to give up his triangles for Ben and Jamal's stupid rocket, and now he's got to use a different pen to complete his pattern.
Half an hour later, the fire alarm goes off. How the school could possibly be on fire in the middle of the pouring rain, Fry doesn't know, but the options are either stay in the building with the agonising noise and possibly catch fire, or go and get wet. Ms Owlswick, who had been pre-warned that Fry tends to scream and clutch his ears when the fire alarm goes off, is somewhat relieved when Fry decides to go out and get wet, and lets him get on with his advanced maths quietly for the rest of the morning.
By lunch time, Fry has calmed down somewhat and decided that maybe he will let Ben have his triangle on the rocket after all, as it will cover the smudged 'H'. But as he goes back to the classroom from the dining hall to let them know, Ms Owlswick takes him aside.
"Fry, I realise this has been a difficult morning, but I can't excuse vandalism." she says, angrily.
"What vandalism?" Fry asks.
Ms Owlswick pushes open the door of the single toilet and points to the sin cos tan triangles written on there with sharpie.
"You will spend lunch break scrubbing this off." she says firmly. "Running over it with whiteboard marker should get it off."
"It wasn't me." Fry says.
"Someone told me they saw you doing it." Ms Owlswick says.
"Who?" Fry asks, indignantly. "Was it Ben?"
"No, it wasn't Ben." Ms Owlswick gets him a cloth and a whiteboard marker and tells him to get cracking.
All the little kids come past and stare at him and giggle. Eventually, Ben wanders past with Jamal, the two of them looking very smug indeed.
"You set me up, didn't you?" Fry says to Ben.
"Not me." Ben says.
"Jamal then." Fry glares at him.
"Prove it." Jamal says, grinning. "Come on Ben, let's go draw our new rocket on that coloured paper Ms Owlswick is getting out."
By the time he's finished scrubbing, the rain has finally stopped. He goes to report to Ms Owlswick at the staff room.
"I was falsely accused." He says, handing her the cloth. "And I'm mortally offended that you didn't believe me."
"If you really didn't do it, then I'm sorry." Ms Owlswick says. "But it's difficult when it's one person's word against another, Fry." She sighs. "Can you take this pen back to the classroom, and this note to the office on your way outside please?"
Fry takes the note and leaves. Miss Havisham, who is sitting in the staff room as Ms Owlswick comes back, gives a sniff.
"He usually does tell the truth, you know."
"But who else would graffiti maths?" Ms Owlswick asks.
"Someone who wants to get under his skin." Miss Havisham says.
Fry stomps back to the classroom. He deposits the pen next to the board, and then his eye falls on the rocket pictures sitting on Ben and Jamal's desks. Impulsively, he takes the pictures, folds them, and goes to the office with the note from Ms Owlswick. He hands the note to the woman in the office.
"Can I use the shredder please?" he asks.
"Go ahead, love." the office lady says. "So long as you promise not to stick your fingers in."
It takes just a second to shred Ben and Jamal's pictures. But it's not as satisfying as he thought it would be. In fact, when he sees Ben and Jamal's faces at the end of break when they discover their pictures gone, a look of distress that even he can recognise, he feels distinctly uncomfortable.
"Bad day?" Mum asks him, when he's laying the table for dinner.
Fry nods. And then he sniffs.
"Is that fish?"
"Of course it's fish. It's Monday." Mum says.
"But I told you you don't have to do that for me." Fry says.
"I'm not doing it for you." Mum says. "You want to try doing food shopping every week, for six people, Coral being fussy and me being deathly allergic to nuts. And how many meals do you think I know how to cook anyway? So you're having fish. And you only need to set five places, your dad's on call."
Fry feels suddenly relieved. Gil comes to the table and cries with relief that it's Monday after all. Coral decides she does like fish today, and Brooke feels that the success is entirely down to her persuasive picture.
"Mum?" Fry asks quietly, as they clean up after dinner. "I did something today I don't think I should have. What should I do?"
"Depends what you did." Mum says.
"Someone did something mean to me, and I did something mean back." Fry says.
"Well Fry, we've talked about 'revenging' before." Mum says. "It tends to make you do things that you might regret later. Sooner or later, one of you needs to make peace. Was it Ben again?"
"Partly, yes." Fry says.
"Ben will be going back to America in just a few months." Mum says. "And then you'll never have to deal with him again. If you feel bad about what you did, say sorry to him." She closes the dishwasher. "Do you want me to have a word with Ms Owlswick?"
"No, I think I've got this." Fry says. "Thanks Mum. For the chat. And the fish."
