Problem Children

Chapter Thirteen

"Why should we? Most of the shows we watch are in black and white anyway," Mr. Young said from his chair in the corner. By now the smoke was pouring upwards in vast amounts, curling at the ceiling where it spread to other parts of the house. Which made Mrs. Young very nervous. "We get a new tv, next you'll want a new car, then a new kitchen, then a new husband. If I'm unlucky enough." His wife came up next to him and kissed his cheek.

"Don't be silly. I just think it'd be a nice change to have a color set, like the Marks have down the road." The television coughed up a cloud of black smoke. "And one that doesn't smoke more than my father."

"I will not be the man who bases his decisions on what his neighbors are doing. Look, we'll get a ceiling fan. One that blows away all the smoke and keeps us cool in summer. How 'bout that? And we won't need our neighbors' permission to get one!"

Mrs. Young sighed and headed back to the kitchen for dinner. Angus and Hannah sat at the table working on their homework for that night. Once in a while Angus would glance at Hannah's paper and write down her answer, but that stopped when his mother caught him. "Angus? Are you copying down what Hannah's writing?"

"No ma'am. I'm just-comparing." Hannah heard her name and looked up to see Angus' paper. His answers were the exact same as hers word for word, number for number. An aggravated sigh escaped her lips.

"Let's hope so. Hannah? Will you be staying for dinner, or should I prepare like normal?"

"Oh, it's already late! I'd better get home. We'll take this up tomorrow, okay Ang?" The boy looked up at the new nickname. Books and papers were shoved in the small school bag and the girl was already on her way to the door. Angus waved a hand to her hoping to catch a goodbye but the door was closed too soon. One quick glance at the table was enough to see she hadn't taken anything of his into her possession again, with which she could use as an excuse to return. But he hadn't needed an excuse; her informal farewell was sufficient.

Mrs. Young steadied a pot under a running faucet used to cook her vegetables. She gave her son a smile as he sighed and continued to look through his textbook. "How's the tutoring coming along?" she asked. "Learning better?"

"Where's Malcolm?" Angus asked standing up from the table. His pencil fell to the floor but he ignored it and headed to the stairs.

"He's at the field with the Morrison boys, he's been there all afternoon, and will be all evening I suspect," she answered as she set her pot down and picked up the fallen pencil. "Why?"

Angus changed his direction to the front door. "Nothin', jus' need some fresh air. I'll see you around dinner!" With that, the door once again closed.

"Hold the ball steady, Ethan!"

"This is steady!"

"Not from where I'm standin'!" Ethan Morrison sighed and picked the ball up to relocate to a more flat piece of land. Malcolm watched him and jumped a bit when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Angus. "Hey, Ang. Whatcha doin' here?"

"Hannah went home."

"I see. A little to the left, Ethan! Did Mum kick ya' out?"

"I needed fresh air. Jus' lookin' at that book gives me nerves 'n things like that." Malcolm turned away from his brother.

"I'm not so sure it's the book," he muttered. Thankfully Angus was too busy being handed Henry's sweaty shoes to hear him.

"What the hell is this?"

"Your shoes. I'm done." Malcolm turned to him.

"Done? You can't quit on us now, I've still got to make my kick." Henry shook his head and his pudgy legs carried his pudgy body off the field and down the street. His socks were covered in mud by the time he walked to the curb and a water bottle was dropped over his head. Angus still held the shoes in his hands, held at a distance as to avoid the smell of sweat and unattended foot infections. Malcolm called after Henry but to no avail. "Flake!" he shouted.