Children tumble out of the school gates, in wave after wave of excited chatter, all clutching school reports, happy to be free of rules and regulations for the next six weeks. Soon the playground is deserted except for one solitary boy who, oblivious to all the noise and jostling around him, has been hanging back in the playground, aimlessly kicking around a small stone, delaying for as long as possible the inevitable confrontation with his father.
Eventually he looks at his digital watch and with a deep sigh of resignation reluctantly makes his way home, stealing himself for the explosion of fireworks he knows will be his fate when he hands over his school report. It would not be prudent to add lateness to his long list of failures. Angrily he kicks out at a small pile of blossom, fallen from a nearby tree. A shower of petals, dust and dirt falls on his trousers and shoes.
He turns over the ominous brown envelope held tightly in his hand, staring morosely at the weave of the material. The writing on the enclosed pages is vivid in his mind: C for maths, C for Physics, C for Chemistry B for Biology, A* for English, A* for Art, B for Business Studies, C for Geography. Already he can hear his father yelling in his ear, telling him what a disappointment he is, what a failure. It’s the same every year. His father would never change. “David, you must work harder. When I was your age I was focussed. I came home from school and studied hard. That way I was always top of the class. What do you do when you get home? You waste your time drawing pictures in that ridiculous sketchbook. If you spent half as much time working at Maths and Science, you could be top of the class. Unless you mend your ways you’ll be a failure, stuck on the dole unable to get a job and don’t expect me to support you. Don’t think you’ll get any special treatment just because I have my own business. I had to struggle to get where I am today, working my way up from nothing. No one handed anything to me on a plate so don’t expect me to spoon-feed you.”
With this tirade echoing in his head, David reaches home. As he digs in his pocket for the key, the front door opens and his father is standing there, a towering silent presence, holding his hand out for the school report. Trembling David hands it over. Suddenly there is a roaring sound in his ears, like the pounding of ocean waves. His last thought is “Oh no! This can’t be happening, not now - number one failure on the list.”
Unconscious, David collapses onto the ground, a quivering heap at his father’s feet, twitching uncontrollably, eyes rolling. His father turns away, thinly disguised disgust obvious in his eyes and walks into his office to sit down and study David’s report.
500 words exactly (not counting the title) including 5 of the designated selection as follows: fireworks, digital, blossom, change, ocean
©Nina Simon 2005
