Blood Of Kings Chapter Two
See above
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Chapter Two
The small boy stood clutching his wooden boat, and looked at the rectangular pond – 'a water feature' – currently attracting the attention of everyone else in his class, five year-olds, (a few 'slower' six year-olds) and teachers. This was an outside activity he was not familiar with, as his mum and da' were adamant that he remain 'orderly' and not 'get grubby' like 'common people'. He was more used to watching other children play as they were naturally self-absorbed in what they were doing, and rarely asked if he wanted to join in.
(Malcolm distinctly remembered the last time he had been asked to play; he had shown a couple of the boys – Daniel in particular – the rocks he had found, and was keeping in his pocket. They were nice to look at and some even had spots. Malcolm knew that he would have to put them back before he got home because his parents said they were dirty and he didn't want to get in trouble, but he could at least have them whilst he was at school. Rocks were neat because they were the oldest things ever, even older than his grand-dad's mum who was ninety-six.
So he pulled them out of his left hand side trouser pocket – the one that also had his rosary in it.
(Michael – the blond one, there were four other Michaels in the class, as it was a popular name – had told him that there was a piece of the 'true cross' in every rosary. Malcolm didn't believe him though Michael was a well-liked boy, and was believed when he said such things – "Michael, there are so many rosaries in the world, if they all had a piece of Christ's cross – there wouldn't be any cross left . . . ", but Malcolm more to prove it to himself, took the metal band from around the cross apart in case something was under it. There was nothing there, but he didn't dare tell anyone what he had done least he was accused of 'hurting the rosary'. Rosaries were almost living things.)
But this day he merely had the rosary in the same pocket as the very nice looking rocks, and when he pulled the rocks from his pocket they were entwined with the rosary, the beads and rocks lumped together.
"I'm telling teacher," said Daniel, clearly not impressed though Malcolm didn't know why. "You have your rosary in the same pocket with those dirty rocks."
"Those aren't dirty," replied the dark-haired child, "Besides Jesus made rocks. I think he likes rocks!" Daniel ran off and for a bit Malcolm was worried that he would end up in the supply closet like the time the teacher told the class that there wasn't a Father Christmas, and Malcolm, though he had figured it out himself, told the teacher that she shouldn't have said anything as some of the other boys still believed the story. She said that he was 'disrespectful' and would have to stand in the closet for a half an' hour. No, Malcolm knew that he was right, and was not happy that even if he was right he would be punished. It was too much like at home.)
So this day, Malcolm stood and watched the other children playing with their boats, boats that everyone had made from wooden blocks and painted themselves.
(Even that had got him in trouble. The class was given the blocks of wood, and they were shaped in such a way that one corner had yet to be taken off to form the bow of the boat. The teacher gave out sheets of sand paper, and it was obvious that she intended for 'the children' to remove the extra material using the paper by rubbing the unfinished corner. Malcolm looked at the wood, and said (perhaps impudently – but then he was only five years-old), "Teacher, there's a better way to do that! When they were cutting on the wood, they should have cut the corner to make a bow. Sanding the wood is not very efficient."
Malcolm had just learned the word 'efficient' from reading news sites that were entirely 'too advanced' for a five year-old, but then 'reading' was still such a marvelous adventure, he would literally read anything – including any site that his mum or da' might leave up by accident. He hadn't quite figured out how to access information, but anything left lying around was 'fair game' for a very inquisitive mind. Often he would be able to figure out the meaning of a word by the context in which it was used – in his mind 'efficient' meant 'best way to do something.'
The teacher, an experienced educator of twenty-seven years' service, regarded her young charge and sighed. While on occasion, she had students who had mastered their letters, and were eager to enter the 'reading world' – it was still rare for a child not only to have mastered the skill, but also to express opinions based on what they had read. This might have been acceptable in a child who was willing to eventually follow her instructions; one did have to be understanding of 'future leaders' and not squash their 'ardor'.
But Malcolm Reed wasn't usually a leader. Often he didn't play with the other children at all.
At first, the teacher had thought that he would be one of the children who liked to 'play house' – but after a couple of days doing that activity (mainly at the behest of some of the more 'bossy' students), he quit and went to play with the crowd of children who were trying to play football – or at least a five year-old version of the sport. This was problematic, as the field was dominated by the larger students, and Reed was not one of the more sturdy children. But it didn't seem to matter; the child was most energetic and didn't seem to mind occasionally being 'overrun' by his larger classmates.
Certainly he did acquire the bumps and bruises of such activity, but Malcolm seemed to be having 'fun' - and the teacher was pleased that he was finally 'fitting in' – until the child's father (in the dress uniform of the Royal Navy no less!) made an appearance and insisted that his son not participate in such 'roughhousing'.
It was 'unseemly' for the son of a naval officer to be engaging in 'common activities' such as football. He expected his son to be a leader, not a follower. The teacher tried to tell the man that one did learn to lead by following others, but he was having none of it and demanded that his son not engage in such foolishness. If he needed physical strengthening, he should 'do exercises', and had the audacity to hand her a booklet filled with 'suggested conditioning for children'.
As expected, Malcolm did the 'recommended exercises' a couple of times, then refused to participate further; he was after all, just a small child and it would be unrealistic to for even the most attentive five year-old to have that amount of patience. Indeed, whilst he had surprised the teacher with his reading ability – after all the fiasco with his father – he then spent most of his time in the school painting, and working puzzles. The dark-haired child would occasionally stop in mid-activity, and intently look at what he was doing as if he was thinking – the teacher could see that he was trying to make the animals he was painting look real – and succeeding remarkably well for his age.
(She was less sure of what he was thinking when assembling the wooden puzzles – they only had fifty pieces, but often he would run his fingers along the edge of the piece he was holding or maybe assemble the puzzle not in the frame, but 'free-standing' if you will. She asked him once, and all Malcolm said, 'he was thinking about how things fit.' She suspected there was more to it than that and wondered if in twenty years or so, Earth would be surprised at the antics of one Malcolm Reed.)
Of course, this didn't help with the current problem of the sanding of the wooden block to make the bow of the boat. She repeated the reason for the task, and added that 'sanding would help to 'take care' of excess energy that little children have.' To which Malcolm said, 'but what if you don't have excess energy?' Then he said, 'The wood will float anyway, even if I don't sand the corner.' No sanding took place, and Malcolm's boat was 'interesting' in shape.
Next was the painting, and again not surprisingly, Malcolm did not want to use the usual colors – no blues or red, no pinks and yellows. His boat had to be bright orange with a black stack; he told the teacher that he had gone to look at 'boats' with his da', and that real boats that help people were orange. The teacher asked him (hoping to gain some insight into 'a developing mind') whether he 'wanted to help people when he grew up'.
(Years later, Malcolm Reed would remember that moment – 'The idea of being an adult seemed so far away – hardly possible to happen – but yes, I liked the idea of 'helping people'.))
But that day was, as they say, years in the future – for now Malcolm stood with his newly-made boat, and watched everyone else 'having fun' – something forbidden . . .
He walked down to join the group. His classmates, boys and girls were putting their wooden boats in the water – splashing though teacher and her assistants told them 'not to do that'. This confused him – always would – the idea of something being forbidden – but if one 'did it right', you could get away with it . . .
He knelt at the water's edge and placed his craft carefully upon its surface. It bobbed up and down in the currents caused by the other children, and what happened next – it took years to live down as his parents (in particular his father) would bring it up at the slightest provocation.
Actually, he really didn't remember the act only that somehow he ended up 'in the water', and that teacher was very upset and was yelling at him, and he was pulled away. Malcolm was terribly embarrassed; he had done something WRONG – really wrong, not just something that adults thought he had done. Immediately taken inside, Malcolm was put in the lavatory all by himself. (Really only because he was dripping wet . . .)
Then teacher came back and said that his father had been called and would be coming in specially to pick him up. If Malcolm had been worried before now he was very unhappy in addition. Normally, even though he was only five years-old, his parents had believed that he was intelligent enough to walk home by himself – granted only a third of a mile – but the boy felt good that he was allowed to do this. His da' coming to school? Now he really did need to use the lavatory for its usual purpose . . .
He was hidden inside one of the stalls, studying the closed door when he heard the outside door open and the voice of his father call out, 'Malcolm?' Malcolm gathered his courage and opened the stall door, and looked at his da' that seemed very tall at that moment. (It didn't hurt that the lavatory was child-sized so that Stuart Reed really was much bigger than the facilities.)
"I heard you got in a bit of trouble with a boat?" Stuart Reed was trying to sound serious, but he found the situation to be funny; unfortunately he didn't understand how upset his son was . . . Malcolm was surprised that his da' wasn't angry, though his mum was when he got home . . .
(His hard-won boat only lasted a year, as it was 'got rid of' after 'a fright of an infectious nature' by Maddie . . . after all it was only a toy boat . . .)
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