A Deckchair Party

"What's this?"

"What does it look like?" Warren said, rolling his eyes.

Jane narrowed her eyes at him. "A party invitation, I'm not stupid you know, Warren."

"Eesh," Warren said, holding up his hands in defence. "Icey!"

Sniffing, Jane folded the card roughly, creasing it down the cetre. Warren cracked his knuckles but held his smile as Jane tucked the card inside her coat, gave him a proffesional nod, and walked off.

Warren watched her retreating back, eyebrows pushing together as he thought. What's her problem? Is she deliberatley shunning me?

A clammy hand clamped itself down on his shoulder, jolting him. "Leave her be," Roger Gaddarn, headmaster, said.

Warren turned around. He didn't like Mr Gaddarn. His head resembled a large pink hunk of ham perched on a bristly neck, that flowed into a short, round body with thick arms and stubby fingers.

His toes are probably stubby too, Warren thought.

Overall, Mr Gaddarn resembled a pig far to much for Warren to ever even begin to start thinking about liking the man. "She's new," he continued. "Probably a little shy too."

"Shy?" Warren choked back a laugh. Jane was stern, prim, and kept herself to herself, but wasn't shy.

"Don't want to scare her away, do you now," Mr Gaddarn added, straigtening his jacket. "Got to take it slowly. Wean her into it. I'm sure she'll come around soon enough, you've just got to let it develop."

Warren opened his mouth to reply, but Gaddarn plowed on.

"A party invite; too upfront. Perhaps a discussion on lesson planning? Get some good old bonding going, eh?" Mr Gaddarn clapped a startled and faintly bemused Warren on the back and strode off.

Warren wanted to laugh again. How ridiculous.

The End

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