Jimmy was tired. He had been up all night chatting to his new friend. He'd only been chatting with Eloise for a week, but he felt a real connection. He didn't know too much about her, and sometimes had to use Google Translate to try and get his message across, but he really felt this could be something.
"James Sinclair, you need to pay more attention in class!" That was a shock, he forgot he was in class. He was in dreamland. Jimmy had applied earlier in the year to go to South American for an exchange. He got in, but financial reason meant that he couldn't go.
Jimmy was not really poor or rich. Middle class. Lived in town, he wasn't a farming kid, he didn't ride horses or motorbikes. All around he was pretty average. Some classes he did well in, others he simply didn't care so half the time he didn't even bother to turn up.
He had a skateboard, so sometimes he'd go and ride around on that instead of going to class. Today he hadn't brought his board, so he went to school. He was falling asleep at the desk. To be honest, he didn't even know what class he was in.
Mr Jones was his teacher for a few different classes. Sometimes he liked him, others he couldn't think of anything worse. Today was one of those days. He considered heading out the door and going back home. His Mum was home though. Not today.
Focus.
A picture of the body. Jimmy thought about that. Could be anything really. He considered laying his head down on the table, but a roar from "Jonesy" settled that matter.
"James Sinclair. You think you're so special don't you. Doesn't even need to pay attention in class. Boy genius. Going to be the top of the class. Well, mate. You're never going to be the top of my class. I'll tell you that much."
Jimmy mumbled an insincere apology. He wasn't really sure what for. He had just drifted off. He remembered bragging about getting the top mark in a test he didn't study for. That still didn't narrow it down to help him remember what subject he was in.
Thankfully, the bell rang. It didn't help his headache, but at least he could move on. Somewhere else, out of that room.
He had been so excited when he first got the news that he would be on his way to South America. He knew he would have to get saving, so he started doing some odd jobs around the house, around the neighbours. Odd jobs didn't pay very well though. He looked out for a job in the supermarket.
He should have gone to Coles or Woolies, but first he checked out the little grocer. I guess that was a mistake, because he was claiming that five bucks an hour was the going rate. That didn't last long. Jimmy walked out on the second day. He wasn't going to put up with that.
When he got home and shared the news with the parents, he was faced with a look of concern. They told him it was going to be difficult to come up with the money. The family was strapped for cash at the moment.
He didn't really know why, but he guessed it went back a few years, when there was a sustained period of fighting between his Mum and Dad. He just tried to avoid that. Every time he heard it was about to begin, that was time to go for a long walk, or maybe to put the headphones on and listen to something as heavy as possible.
Every now and then he would go to the beach with his Dad. They were going less and less now. In reality, old John was getting fat. He was getting fat, lazy and depressed. He didn't want to let that on to his family, but John had lost a lot of money.
He told his wife some of the story and they had almost come to blows. There was a time when she would come home yelling and screaming, threatening to kick him, hit him. He would always try to say things like "for the children".
They only had one child, so that didn't really make any sense. Though he thought if she kicked where she looked to be aiming, there wouldn't be any more children in the future.
They never did come to blows, but things changed. That money was never coming back, and John spent so much of his time trying to think of new ideas to evade debtors and further questions about his financial stability.
When his son came home after winning a great prize to go to South America, John was downcast. Sure, it was a great win, but they could never afford it. The debtors were already breathing down his neck. He saw the way that his young son started getting into the household tasks, helping out with the neighbours, just trying to scrape together the cash.
The reality was though, South America wasn't cheap. What kind of prize was this, anyway? They give you the great prestige, but then they didn't give you any money. Not much of a prize. Eventually the enthusiasm for the odd jobs cooled.
It wasn't like the old man had much enthusiasm himself. Not for household tasks, or anything. He went to his job and put in the minimum effort to ensure he remained on staff. He hated the work, the boss, the office, the clients.
However, every week, he could go to the supermarket, and everyone could eat. Everybody happy. Everything is fine. John enjoyed the weekly dinner after he had been to the supermarket. The Sunday roast. His wife was a good cook.
He wondered if there was any roast leftover in the fridge now. That could be a good lunch. He thought about it, no, there wouldn't be. He polished off the last of it yesterday afternoon. Too bad.
South America, hey. Don't know much about that. They like their soccer. Would have been good to go if Jimmy did get over there. Would have been great if the government paid for us all to go. That'd be something, wouldn't it.
"James Sinclair, you need to pay more attention in class!" That was a shock, he forgot he was in class. He was in dreamland. Jimmy had applied earlier in the year to go to South American for an exchange. He got in, but financial reason meant that he couldn't go.
Jimmy was not really poor or rich. Middle class. Lived in town, he wasn't a farming kid, he didn't ride horses or motorbikes. All around he was pretty average. Some classes he did well in, others he simply didn't care so half the time he didn't even bother to turn up.
He had a skateboard, so sometimes he'd go and ride around on that instead of going to class. Today he hadn't brought his board, so he went to school. He was falling asleep at the desk. To be honest, he didn't even know what class he was in.
Mr Jones was his teacher for a few different classes. Sometimes he liked him, others he couldn't think of anything worse. Today was one of those days. He considered heading out the door and going back home. His Mum was home though. Not today.
Focus.
A picture of the body. Jimmy thought about that. Could be anything really. He considered laying his head down on the table, but a roar from "Jonesy" settled that matter.
"James Sinclair. You think you're so special don't you. Doesn't even need to pay attention in class. Boy genius. Going to be the top of the class. Well, mate. You're never going to be the top of my class. I'll tell you that much."
Jimmy mumbled an insincere apology. He wasn't really sure what for. He had just drifted off. He remembered bragging about getting the top mark in a test he didn't study for. That still didn't narrow it down to help him remember what subject he was in.
Thankfully, the bell rang. It didn't help his headache, but at least he could move on. Somewhere else, out of that room.
He had been so excited when he first got the news that he would be on his way to South America. He knew he would have to get saving, so he started doing some odd jobs around the house, around the neighbours. Odd jobs didn't pay very well though. He looked out for a job in the supermarket.
He should have gone to Coles or Woolies, but first he checked out the little grocer. I guess that was a mistake, because he was claiming that five bucks an hour was the going rate. That didn't last long. Jimmy walked out on the second day. He wasn't going to put up with that.
When he got home and shared the news with the parents, he was faced with a look of concern. They told him it was going to be difficult to come up with the money. The family was strapped for cash at the moment.
He didn't really know why, but he guessed it went back a few years, when there was a sustained period of fighting between his Mum and Dad. He just tried to avoid that. Every time he heard it was about to begin, that was time to go for a long walk, or maybe to put the headphones on and listen to something as heavy as possible.
Every now and then he would go to the beach with his Dad. They were going less and less now. In reality, old John was getting fat. He was getting fat, lazy and depressed. He didn't want to let that on to his family, but John had lost a lot of money.
He told his wife some of the story and they had almost come to blows. There was a time when she would come home yelling and screaming, threatening to kick him, hit him. He would always try to say things like "for the children".
They only had one child, so that didn't really make any sense. Though he thought if she kicked where she looked to be aiming, there wouldn't be any more children in the future.
They never did come to blows, but things changed. That money was never coming back, and John spent so much of his time trying to think of new ideas to evade debtors and further questions about his financial stability.
When his son came home after winning a great prize to go to South America, John was downcast. Sure, it was a great win, but they could never afford it. The debtors were already breathing down his neck. He saw the way that his young son started getting into the household tasks, helping out with the neighbours, just trying to scrape together the cash.
The reality was though, South America wasn't cheap. What kind of prize was this, anyway? They give you the great prestige, but then they didn't give you any money. Not much of a prize. Eventually the enthusiasm for the odd jobs cooled.
It wasn't like the old man had much enthusiasm himself. Not for household tasks, or anything. He went to his job and put in the minimum effort to ensure he remained on staff. He hated the work, the boss, the office, the clients.
However, every week, he could go to the supermarket, and everyone could eat. Everybody happy. Everything is fine. John enjoyed the weekly dinner after he had been to the supermarket. The Sunday roast. His wife was a good cook.
He wondered if there was any roast leftover in the fridge now. That could be a good lunch. He thought about it, no, there wouldn't be. He polished off the last of it yesterday afternoon. Too bad.
South America, hey. Don't know much about that. They like their soccer. Would have been good to go if Jimmy did get over there. Would have been great if the government paid for us all to go. That'd be something, wouldn't it.
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