Every time you make a move

And all your troubles are very small

"Honestly! It's not even lunchtime and already I'm dragged out of the studio!"

Phoebe listened to his boss rant in the passenger seat beside him as he drove across the London city centre in the Garden Lodge mercedes and to Johnny and Roshni's school, unable to think of anything helpful to say.

"Maybe you and Monica ought to be considering the possibility that Johnny has special needs or some kind of... syndrome" he timidly suggested.

"A syndrome? ...Probably SLG" he heard Freddie grouch.

"SLG?" Phoebe glanced over to him as he steered sharply around a bend.

"Yeah, Shitty Little Git syndrome" he spat, rolling down the window so that he could have a smoke.

"You probably shouldn't do that, we're almost there" Phoebe warned, ignoring his remark of disdain towards his own son.

Grumbling, Freddie stuffed his cigarettes back into the pocket of his navy blue bomber jacket  and continued to moodily stare out the window and into his reflection in the wing mirror, aggrivated that the one out of his two children that bore most physical resemblance to him was also the one with the most challenging behaviour.

"A challenge to everybody around him," he thought wistfully, "Just like me"

*****

The Headmaster's Office, St Barnabas Primary

"Thank you Ms Hadley and Ms Ashworth," Mr Armstrong, the headmaster of the school sat at his office desk, "You may head back to class"

Laura and Emilia-Anne stood back up off their seats after delivering their witness statements and silently exited the musty-smelling room as Mrs Greenwood, the middle-aged peroxic blonde in a dusky rose-coloured power suitwho also happened to be the vice principal of St Barnabas primary, stepped aside and opened the door disguised as one of many wall-to-wall bookshelves for them.

Johnny Bulsara sat in one chair in front of Mr Armstrong's desk, Sarah Aldred in the other next to him, both not permitted to speak and being stared down at by the fat old man in a tweed jacket invading his personal space.

Mr Armstrong never really liked the Bulsara twins. Johnny always seemed to have mischeif playing on his face, as  if he was plotting something, and it was no wonder with all the tales that he'd been hearing about him in the staffroom. As for the girl who had a name he couldn't pronounce, she didn't really speak or play with anybody unless it was with her scamp of a brother.

"Well, I have to say that is appalling, Johnny. I expected better from a bright little boy like you." Mrs Greenwood returned to the desk, using a tone on him that wasn't harsh and demeaning, but she was still good at making him feel ashamed at his behaviour when her kind, mature face formed into a frown.

Johnny didn't find it fair at all. Sarah was wearing his sister's favourite hair clip, and there was no other possible way that she could've gotten her hands on it other than theft.

"Bright? You're being too easy on him, Mrs Greenwood," the headmaster lifted a pen as he continued filling out the behavioral incident report, "Mrs Hemmings tells me that Johnny keeps sneaking into her music closet at lunch... to create a racket like his father, no doubt!"

"My dad's music is not a racket!" Johnny spoke up as he got up off his chair, feeling insulted.

"Sit down and don't talk until your mum gets here, alright?" Mrs Greenwood intervened in time and lowered him back down in the chair.

"But he insulted my dad's music!" he looked up at her.

She shushed him, "Mr Armstrong's old ears are not used to new music like Queen"