The Wild Child: Secrets always find a way of revealing themselves. Sometimes you just need to know where to look: A True Short Story. Casey Watson
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This morning’s breakfast. All that trouble caused, and on this very morning, by the little dot of a kid upstairs. Hearing the stairs creak, I stuffed the papers back into the envelope.
It was Mike. ‘Told them I’d call them when there’s some food ready. Ty’s helping him settle in. Anything juicy in there?’ he added, nodding towards the paperwork. I paused, wondering whether to try and sugar it. I decided not.
‘He does appear to be a bit worse than we first thought,’ I said, keeping an eye on the door. ‘It certainly doesn’t make nice reading. I think we’re going to have to keep a close eye on him.’
He held his hand out for the envelope. ‘Let’s have a nose, then. Don’t worry. He’s busy unpacking and Ty’s promised him they can play on his Xbox.’
I handed it over. ‘Well, I guess all we can do is treat him as we find him and play it by ear. Julie did say these outbursts invariably follow a pattern. That once he’s messed up his placements he goes through a period of remorse. Let’s hope he’s in reflective mood today, eh?’
‘Placements plural?’ Mike said. ‘How many has he been through?’
‘More than are commensurate with peace, love and harmony,’ I told him. ‘So let’s make sure he sees some while he’s with us. I’ll leave them for a bit, then how about we take them both out? Maybe even stay out for tea. We’ll just keep him busy,’ I added, as Mike finished scanning the notes.
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Be the other way around, I reckon.’
He wasn’t wrong. After he went into the lounge to watch his Saturday sports programme I quickly made both boys a sandwich, then took them up; if they were settled with the Xbox, I was happy enough. They could get on and get to know each other over some mutual game they liked while I dealt with the laundry, and we could head off on our outing a little later.
I reached the top of the stairs and smiled as I heard boyish laughter coming from Tyler’s room. Tyler was routinely great around younger kids, not just because he had his own little brother (whom he still saw pretty regularly, even though he had no contact with his dad or stepmother) but because he spent so much time around my own grandchildren.
I hovered a moment, listening – you could glean lots by listening to what kids chatted about when out of earshot – and, as a result, my smile didn’t stay in place long.
‘Mate, you’re almost a man at your age,’ Connor was saying. ‘Don’t tell me you never look at tits.’
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