Marks on Spencer

-PART ONE-

“Misses Preston, she like tells the class that pies are square.” said Spencer Finch. He was sitting at the dining table, scribbling in a colouring-in book with an orange pencil. “So, I put up my hand and go, "if pies are square why are pie-charts round?"”

“That’s a good question,” said Nikau Diaz, seated opposite Spencer. An Immortal X-Men comic lay on the table before him. It was open at the same page that it had been, for the past ten minutes.

The two boys were of similar heights, ages, and girths. Both shared the same chestnut hair, green eyes, and propensities for mischief. Often, people unfamiliar to their histories, mistook them as biological brothers.

“She said square pies are used to find the circumference of the circle.” said Spencer.

“Is that something that people lose?” said Nikau.

“Probably. I asked her if Sir Come-Fronts of the Circle was one of the Knights of the Round Table and she told me to stop asking stupid questions.”

“That’s what grownups say when they don’t know the answer. It’s like “I’ll tell you when you get older”, or “Don’t get smart” or “Because I said so.””

“Remember when she told us about Eye-Sausages Triangles? Well, I ask one of the butchers at Countdown last week, if he had triangle sausages made from eyes? He said there’s no such thing.”

“She shouldn’t be a teacher if she…”

“Spencer!” said Charlotte Diaz. Her unexpected page startled the boys. “Come here, this instant!”

Spencer shifted his attention to his stepmother. Abandoning his artwork and critique, he rose from his chair, then approached her with caution. The stench of alcohol nauseated him when he got closer. He stopped and peered up at her glazed eyes. Her ashen hair looked a tangled mess.

“Did I do something wrong?” he said.

“It’s what you didn’t do.”

She snatched his upper right arm and led him from the dining-room. His short nine and a half-year-old legs stumbled along the hallway to keep up with her rapid pacing. Veering left, she ushered him into the living room.

“I told you to pick up your toys!” said Charlotte. She smacked the seat of his chino pants, then wagged her index finger at his nose. “You disobeyed me, you naughty little boy!”

“But I did pick them up,” said Spencer, his eyes welling with tears.

“Then what are those things sitting beside the book cabinet?”

“They’re Carlos and Amelia’s. You told me to put mine away, not theirs”.

“Don’t be facetious. I’ve just about had enough of your nonsense. If you’re serious about becoming part of this family, you've got to prove yourself worthy of adoption. Just remember, you need a forever home, more than we need the aggravation of raising an incorrigible little brat.”

“Why are you being so mean to me?”

“Naughty little boys don’t deserve niceness. Now, Grandma is coming over in less than half an hour. I expect to find everything back where it belongs, by the time she gets here, otherwise you’re going to get the paddle.”

Spencer staggered as she shoved him closer to the toys. He turned to protest but she was already striding out the door. The temptation to defy her was strong. Fear of consequences overcame it. Cursing her under his breath, he crouched, picked up a Lego Electric Sports Car, and tossed it in the plastic toy box.

-Part Two-

“It’s Max Verse-strapping’s Red-bull racing car.” said Spencer, showing the toy car to his step grandmother. “Uncle Tommaso sent it to me. He works in the Bbargo factory. In Italy.”

“I think you mean Verstappen.” said Aurora Fernandez. She prized the car from him and studied it. “You’re a very lucky little boy, having such a thoughtful relation.”

Aurora was a short stocky woman in her late 60s, with long curly hair and an aquiline nose. There was a small boil on her forehead that Spencer and his stepsiblings were forbidden to mention or stare at. Her taste in clothing was of an affluent motif, and jewellery spoke volumes for the type of financial settlement applicable to her recent divorce.

“Uncle Tommaso used to live in Rome but now lives in San Giuseppe.” said Spencer. “Giuseppe is Italian for Joseph, like Joseph of Animal-Fear.”

“Joseph of Arimathea,” said Aurora.

“Grandma, Rome’s where Pope Francis and his Holy Seal live.” said Nikau, sitting on the couch to the left of Aurora. “One of my substitute teachers told us she doesn’t recognise the Pope, but that’s all messed up. Pope Francis is like famous and stuff, and he wears pope clothing, and rides around in the Popemobile.”

“She means that she doesn’t accept his authority,”

“Accepting authority is very important.” said Charlotte, entering the living room. She was pushing a tea trolley. Upon it was a plate full of savouries, a steaming cup of coffee and two glasses of orange juice. There was also another glass filled with Bombay Gin, mixed with lemon, lime and bitters.

“I’m just showing Grandma the car Uncle Tommaso sent me,” said Spencer. “I’ll put it straight back in my room as soon as she’s finished looking at it.”

“How long does it take to look at a car?”

“As long as a piece of string,” said Nikau. “That’s twice as long as half it’s length.”

“Clever boy,” said Aurora.

“Immature little smarty-pants,” said Charlotte. She retrieved her glass of gin and slumped down in an armchair to the far right of the couch.

The conversation changed to more of an extended family and neighbour gossip motif. Charlotte did most of the talking. Some topics were discussed in Spanish, hinting the content was not intended for young ears.

Spencer’s bored mind wandered. He studied the framed Diaz family photos on the wall. Some of the faces were of people he had met. Others were still unfamiliar to him. Sleeping babies. Grinning children. Adults with feigned smiles. Wrinkled elders. Every house he had ever visited, had these types of photos.

“Spencer, dear. Alejandro tells me that you have started expressing interest in being an author when you grow up.” said Aurora, interrupting his chain of thought.

“Yeah,” said Spencer. “I like stories, and Mister Diaz says I’ve got a good imagination.”

“I told him he was wasting his time, Aurora, but he just won’t listen.” said Charlotte. Her glass was now almost empty. “There’s just too much competition for a lazy underachiever like him to fight against.”

“You really shouldn’t discourage him like that,” said Aurora. “If Nimsdai Purja had listened to those that laughed and scoffed at him he never would never have broken the world record.”

“Nimsdai Purja?”

“The Gurkan/UK special forces climber in Beyond Impossible. You know, the book I gave you last Christmas.”

“Oh, that one. Yeah. Um, Spencer?”

“Yes Misses Diaz,” said Spencer.

“Where’s the “Beyond Impossible” book, Grandma gave us. It usually sits on top of the book cabinet.”

“I put it in the School Fare Box.”

“Why on Earth would you do something so stupid?”

“You told me to put things back where they belong. A few weeks back, you said that that stupid book belongs in the landfill, but I thought it would be better if we like gave it to the school fair.”

“I never said it belonged in the landfill.”

“You did too. Ask Mister Diaz.”

“Go to your room and stay there until you’re told otherwise!”

“But Misses Diaz you…”

“Now Spencer! And you can forget about any desert tonight, naughty boys don’t deserve cheesecake and ice cream!”
“I hate you!”

Spencer turned and hastened out the living room. Down the hallway he ran, veering into the third room on the right. He slammed the door behind him and snatched the Marvel Wolverine Action Figure from his desk. Charlotte had given it to him the previous month, for his tenth birthday. Cursing under his beath, he threw it in the rubbish bin, then lay face down on his bed and cried long and hard.

-To Be Continued-