A collection of very short

Grandma

"Why are you so jittery today, Al?" Tatie asked. The boy was reluctantly walking by her side, often having to be pulled forward.

They walked a further hundred meters. The closer they got to the school, the harder it was to pull him forward. The grandmother took her grandchild to school every day at the same time. Today was the first time she had to pull him to school.

"What's going on Al?" She stopped and crouched in front of him. "Don't you want to go to school today?"

The boy shook his head, avoiding his grandmother's eyes. She placed her fingers below his chin and pushed his head up.

"Look at me young man. Tatie is talking at you." The boy reluctantly looked her in the eyes. "What have you done that you don't want to go to school?"

The boy shrugged and looked back down, to the pavement.

"Al I won't repeat myself. Tell your Tatie what you have done." There was no anger in her voice, just insistence.

"Nothing Tatie. I just don't like school anymore." His voice cracked a little towards the end as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes.

She took a tissue out of her pocket and dried them. "No more crying now," she ordered him tenderly. "Men don't cry. Let's go sit and talk this out, okay?"

They walked across the street. She hoped this could be resolved in time so they would be on time. Punctuality was important for her. It had always been. It was one of the constants of her life.

"So tell me what happened?" She asked as they sat on the bench.

The boy was looking down, filled with shame.

"I'm scared to go to school. The girls are mean to me."

"The girls?" She asked surprised. "Which ones? What did they do?"

"Anna and Clarice. They throw papers at me in class and they pull my hair. It hurts. I don't like it anymore."

She looked at her grandson filled with disappointment. There was no pity in her eyes. This might have been one of the few things that was worse than being late.

"When did this happen?"

"Last week."

"Listen to me Al. These girls are bullies. Boys, girls, it makes no difference. But you are a man. That makes a difference. You need to stand up to these girls, at any bully in fact. Look at me when I am speaking to you."

The boy turned his head and looked up at her, there were new tears rolling down his cheeks. He was terrified of both his Tatie and the girls at school. She took another tissue and wiped his tears.

"I am very disappointed in you Al," she declared with no empathy. "You should not be crying about this. You should be standing up to these girls. You should be making sure that this does not happen anymore. You are a man and they are girls. If you don't teach them where their places are, then who will?"

The boy was confused. Yet, somehow he felt slightly reinvigorated, pepped up by his grandmother's tone.

"Now, you are going to take my hand and we are going to walk to school like every day." She got up and grabbed his left hand firmly. "I don't want to see any tears in your eyes," she continued as they walked. "Stand straight, look up and let's go. If the girls want to cause you trouble today, you show them whose boss, all right?"

The boy nodded, propped up with a sudden sense of pride. A shy smile appeared on his face.

They arrived at the school. They were in time. The boy was standing straight, ready to face anything.

"Give Tatie a hug."

The boy gave a big hug to his grandmother and whispered in her ears: "Thank you Tatie. You're the best."

He let go and ran into the school, his head held high.

"Make me proud," she shouted as he disappeared in the distance.