Chapter 5: The Good, the Bad & the Angry

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THE NEXT DAY WAS WEDNESDAY – and, after class, Peter dragged his feet slowly to the Infirmary, where the counsellor’s office was, to resume his anger-management sessions.

He 'hated' going there – and, dreaded the thoughts of adults imposing 'more' punishment on him, and talking-down on him, WITHOUT LISTENING to his 'side' of the story.

"Your mother called yesterday evening, to let me know that you ‘attacked’ Paul, for eating your pizza. Is that what happened, Peter? Do you want to 'talk' about it?" Ms King asked.

"It's Poe's fault – err, Paul's fault he is always, annoying me!"

"So, you beat him up?"

"I did not 'beat' him – I pushed him... and he fell off his tortoise-chair." Peter lied.

"But 2 months ago, you slapped Paul FOR THE 'FIRST' TIME – AND, roughen him up in the school canteen. Your mother came then, and we talked at 'same' Principle Harris' office – can you remember, that incident?"

... it was when his History teacher 'praised' Paul in class – but had put Peter down for 'not' studying. Everyone in the classroom laughed.

"Paul always annoys me! He thinks he is 'BETTER' THAN ME. He even calls me names, like... moron and stupid."

"But Peter, you can't go on 'hitting' people, who insults and annoys you – that is anti-social behaviour."

He realized Ms King was using those 'same' vocabulary, which his mother used, whenever she gave him her long-winded police-school lectures, at home.

"I'm 'not' a criminal." He got defensive.

"I even have spoken, to 'some' of your teachers this morning, and they said you are still 'not' cooperating in class, with your studies – 'why' is that…?

"They still say that all year long, you don't pay attention in class, 'sometimes' disruptive, being a nuisance and throw tantrums at them – also, refusing to do your 'homework,' and the list goes, on and on."

... Peter was more-defensive. "Why are you all talking about 'me,' behind my back?"

"It is because 'all' of us – WE WANT TO HELP YOU, Peter. Because we want to help you with your 'poor' grades. Do you remember what Principle Harris and your mother 'told' you recently…? That you cannot 'play' tennis any-more unless you study hard from now on. I also remember 'YOU' AGREEING to it, in the principal's office, did you 'not?'"

... tears flowed in the one-armed boy's cheek…

"Principal Harris can't do this to me. You 'all' can't do this to me! All I want is to be the 'BEST' TENNIS PLAYER in the world – I been dreaming this 'true-blue' dream, since I was 4, that I will be Straya's youngest world-class player, by the age of 15."

"That is fine, Peter, you are 'only' 12 now and you still have 3 more 'long' years of hard work, to do well in both the classroom – and also, in the tennis court. Go start making some 'small' daily changes by paying attention in class, and also, by practice hard at your tennis too."

... Peter was tongue-tied. His tears fell on his lap and hand – his 'useless' right hand, that was 'not' as good as HIS MISSING ARM. He finally looked up at the counsellor.

"Why can't I just focus, 'only' on tennis? I know I can be GOOD AT IT, and soon, be the best again." He was convinced.

"What does your mother 'say' about it…?" Ms King asked.

... he felt the anger, building in his guts.

"She disapproves everything I say – she does 'NOT' UNDERSTAND ME, and my dreams! No-one understands my dreams as I do!"

"That is right – 'no' one will understand you – 'if' you keep behaving like a bitter and angry boy, who bullies and beats-up anyone, who GETS IN HIS WAY. These are 'signs' of mental health disorder – that, you have to 'control,' by making positive changes to yourself every day."

He got defensive again…

"So now you 'think,' I am crazy?"

"It will lead to it – if you 'don't' control it. Listen here, Peter, do you think you can go to the sports academy to represent the country in tennis if you are mentally not well...? The Australian sports council too... has their 'OWN' PANEL OF DOCTORS and psychiatrist who will diagnose you, and drop-you 'out' from the academy, if – you are mentally unfit or unstable, by being a dangerous troublemaker, who goes 'around' hurting others."

... Peter became quiet, out of 'that' fear – he also, felt hurt that everyone was 'still' punishing him, by steering him 'away' from his world-class dreams.

He 'thinks' he WAS THE VICTIM... of the unfairness of the adult's world.

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THAT SAME WEDNESDAY, Alicia had a final music practice for the term. She will be going to the music studio, and later hang out with Jane. There were still 20 more minutes before, she fiddled her violin with her school orchestra practice…

… so, she was hanging out with Jane and Paul after class.

They were excited about their HALF A DAY 'FIELD TRIP,' after class tomorrow, by visiting a dairy farm in the meadows outside Perth – where, they will be travelling by a few buses to Treeton, with their teachers.

... Paul noticed that the 2 girlfriends were 'more' excited in what they were going to wear on the trip – the school, HAD EXCUSED STUDENTS from wearing their uniforms, and they could dress in casual clothing – the 2 best friends wanted to dress 'alike,' on that Thursday in school, and later in the field trip.

Then on-Friday was also the 'last' day for the midterm before they go on their holiday break.

The 3 friends were meandering, in the school empty corridors, talking about their plans during the holidays. The 3 Donovan-boys, came running over from behind them and hopped on Paul's wheelchair. An excited boy exclaimed-out...

"Hey... it's fat Ballerina-Paulie – with his 2 weirdo-girlfriends."

"Get off, you morons!"

... Paul yelled – also feeling embarrassed too, that those boys had bullied him, and called him 'names,' in front of Jane and Alicia. He sighed.

Alicia pulled and pushed a boy away from the wheelchair and... he 'dropped' on the floor. Alicia shouted at them...

"Hey, I 'know' you 3! I am GOING TO REPORT you all, to Principle Harris!" The boys ran away, laughing.

In the hustle, Paul's unzipped backpack dropped – and some of his books, and a file with drawings on papers, were all scattered over the place. Alicia was picking up his things on the floor, while the blind- Jane was 'still' dazed, by the brief encounter.

"Wow, Paul – you 'drew' these...?"

… Alicia asked and Paul chucked. "Yes, it is silly – just some conceptual-art, that I researched on the internet. I don't think the technology is 'ever' possible."

... Alicia described in delight, looking at the artworks. "It's so cool! Robotic limbs to 'fit' into a human – it's kind of like Cyborg, in that Justice League movie, Paul!"

Paul laughed with Alicia and further blushed. "As I said, it is just 'silly' drawings I do – I too used to read a lot of comic books."

... Jane came over towards their voices... and participated. "Give me that – 'nothing' in this days-and-age are silly – SIMY, capture."

The blind girl commanded her AI, as her dark-glasses photographed – she asked Paul's permission.

"Paul, 'can' I send these drawings to Uncle Jack, to have a look…? My uncle works for a Japanese billionaire, whose cooperation called Kimura Star, that had built my SIMY device – and also some 'other' robotic inventions and – I also-heard the good news, from my-uncle, that they have 'already' built a human-cyborg in America."

"What...? Way-no-way!" Stupefied, Alicia cried.

... Paul too was surprised. "Wow! Really, how was that possible!!?"

"According to Uncle Jack, she was a federal drug agent, who was 'shot,' in a speeding car chase, with a drug dealer gang – and then they shot her, with a rocket launcher. It happened a few years ago in, either Ohio or Utah or... somewhere, I am 'not' sure about that...

"... but then listen, the agent lady got an arm and one of her legs 'blown' off and... it was later were replaced by robotic limbs."

Jane narrated in excitement, where she had also. later did some research on her SIMY online – about that tragic, high-speed car chase and shootout disaster, that 'happened' in the middle of an American city, killing a lot of pedestrians.

... Paul was totally engrossed. "Wow! That is so amazing, that robotic technology has 'now' be a possible reality – I just 'drew' those, hoping that my brother will have an 'arm,' and me – so that, I can 'walk' again."

Alicia went over and bent to hug him. "We too hope, and pray, you can walk 'again' soon, Paul."

"I hope so too..." Jane said and handed Paul his drawings.

... Paul blushed 'more,' when Jane said that. He replied...

"Thank you, 'both' of you – now I feel, there is 'hope.'"

... Alicia looked at her Swatch. "I am running late, for my music practice. Hey Paul, after my class, we both are going to Chinatown, to my aunt's restaurant to eat Dim Sums – you want to grab Uber, and 'join' us there?"

Jane giggled. "They serve Taiwanese stinky-tofu too – those are my favourites."

... Paul declined. "No, some other time, 'maybe' – I need to go-check on Pete. My mother wants him, to 'see' Ms King."

"You're 'always' your brother's keeper." Grinning, Alicia replied back.

"Yes... more like a zookeeper." Paul joked.

... Alicia laughed aloud, and said her bye and left, and holding onto Jane. Her violin case was strapped on her back, like a machine gun. Paul watched the best-friends walking away, chatting as they stroll. He stayed on, to see them further before Alicia entered the music room.

Noticing also that, Jane was sitting at the bench outside, communicating with her SIMY.

He next turned his mobile wheelchair, headed to the Infirmary – where the counsellor's office was. He saw the door open, and Ms King was at her desk. She looked up...

"Yes, Paul Walker, what can I do for you?"

"G'day, Ms King – where is Peter? Did he come...?" He whispered out.

"Yes... the session ended a few minutes ago. Peter said he is going to the court, for his practice." Paul thanked her and left.

... he headed to the main empty corridor, while holding his cellphone, and wanting to call Gary, his Uber driver and later, his mother.

He glanced at someone 'passing' – SEEING, BLIND-JANE walking ahead towards the west-wing of the school, where the gym 'was' – with the outdoor tennis courts.

.... he double-backed and followed Jane FROM A DISTANCE – stalking her, out of his curiosity.

-O-

... Peter was the 'only' one, who trained in the empty courts that arvo – while the other players, were 'already' in their pre-holiday break-mood.

The Spitfire tennis-ball machine was in shuffle, and Peter worked on his slices in the hardcourt – playing badly with balls mostly obstructed, in the net.

... behind the gallery-tier, Paul saw his twin practising, while the blind Jane paced some stairs, descending to the outdoors, towards the green, fenced courts.

Paul had 'not' SEEN JANE BEFORE, at the tennis courts – this made him, even 'more' curious…

'Why is she here...?'

Blind-Jane heard the machine in the court, spitting out a ball... and Peter's grunt, as he hit the ball over. She found a bench, outside the fenced-court, and sat.

... her SIMY was in its Observation-mode... and LEARNED THE 'MOVES' made by Peter, via the camera in her dark-glasses – while Jane sat, snacked on a power-bar candy.

Paul waited for about 15 minutes, observing both of them, from above. The Spitfire had depleted its 200 balls capacity, he saw his brother squatting on the spot, exhausted in the afternoon heat.

... panting, Peter glanced over his shoulder, he saw his classmate, Jane Wilson sitting on the bench, outside the fence, watching on him...

'Why is she here...?'

She was the 'only' student, in the outdoors that hot-afternoon, after classes. He felt odd, seeing a blind girl watching him. It was even 'weird,' when the blind-girl acknowledged him.

"Hi Champ, training hard, I see."

'No' one had CALLED HIM CHAMP, for a long time. A lot of people used to, 2 years ago – even his parents called him 'that,' back then. That made Peter even 'more' suspicious...

... Jane stood up and walked into the side-gate, and entered the fenced court, where Peter was training. She dragged a basket with wheels, and she then squat-down, picking the tenno-balls on the side of Peter's net.

Flabbergasted, Peter stood up and said...

"Why are you here? What do you 'want...?'"

... he rarely spoke to her, because she was 'one' of Paul's friends...

... Jane smiled. "Nothing for now – and, what do you 'want,' Champ?"

He was quiet and thought a bit...

"That, robot Siri-voiced headphones you wear – it helps you to get answers for exams I 'WANT' THAT... and where do I buy it?"

... Jane laughed, shaking her head. "Sorry, I don't use SIM-tech, during the 'exams' – that is cheating – and, I submit my answers in Braille."

"Don't give me that BS. I don't know what's the 'secret' is behind the tech, but it is benefiting you well – if that can make me smart, 'without' any hard work, then I want that tool! Tell me, Jane Wilson, where is it sold?"

... Jane laughed even more…

"Sorry, that is 'cheating,' Peter. My SIMY doesn't 'work' that way, it just assists me – and I still have to use my galah-brains to study hard, and to pass the exams."

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"I got 'no' time for that – hey, I can get you $3000, HELP ME, Jane Wilson, I’m desperate here – 'where' can I get this SIMY...?"

"Sorry to 'say' again, Champ – you are still 'wrong' about how the technology works in studying. IT IS 'NOT' A MAGIC BULLET, and you still need to do the hard-studying part...

"... but I got some great news, from my uncle who built the SIMY device – he said they are WORKING ON FUTURE 'MODELS,' that can help anyone like you sighted people, in learning, and benefit from this tech. It is 'now' being tested, and modified in the US, and will be in the market next year."

"I have to wait 'one' year…? That is 'ages,' I can't wait that long! Go, ask him, your American uncle might know, 'of-someone' who knows someone, who happens to 'fence' that same technology, in the black-market now – he 'should' know where I can get one. So, Jane Wilson, my final offer is $5000... 'can' he get it for me – you go and ask him that, okay...?"

... he said out, in despondency.

"My uncle will 'not' do, those illegal businesses. And also, 'WHAT' YOU ASKING is the impossible – but if you want 'help' in your studies, Peter, just ask me – and I will help you...

"... in fact, your brother Paul had invited Alicia and me, to 'your' place during this term break, to help him study. You 'can' join us, if you want."

... Peter was quiet... and at the same time was angry, when she mentioned Paul and Alicia's names...

... who were the list of people 'whom' he 'despised.'

But he did 'not' react out badly, AFTER GETTING SOME TIPS from his counsellor, earlier – of listening more and speaking less...

In silence...

... he watched her picking the scattered tennis balls. He too kicked some balls 'over' to her, and it rolled on the hardcourt, towards her hands.

"What do I 'owe' you, if you help me? I'm 'not' a charity-case, I don't want any favours, from anyone either – WHAT IS YOUR PRICE, and I'll 'pay' you?"

"I don't need your money, Champ." Jane giggled. "I'm just a handicap-girl, trying to 'help' a fellow handicap-boy."

... Peter was even 'more' confused – and on top of it, he was suspicious if his mother and Paul WERE BEHIND IT – in the 'offer,' that the blind girl was giving-freely...

He walked up and squatted beside Jane, and picked some balls at the net – he threw them one by one, into the basket, with his one arm. He asked her again...

"You 'must' want something, as a trade-off...? 'No' one does anything, for free any more – what you 'want,' in return?"

... one of the balls that Peter 'threw,' hit the rim of the basket, bounced and hit Jane's head.

"Ouch – If you put it that way then, AS A TRADE-OFF – you 'teach' me, how to play tennis."

... Paul who had been 'hiding' above – and was watching both Jane and his brother, for almost 20 minutes below, at the court. He can't hear their conversation AT THAT DISTANCE, just watching their body-languages – he then saw and heard…

… Peter laughing out aloud now.

"You must be joking, right…? Blind people 'can't' play tennis... just like mutes can't sing karaoke. Do you think, a blind can hit a tenno-ball the size of a fist – hey, we are 'not' tossing and catching a medicine-ball, over the court here, okay?"

The also snickering, Jane stood up... and challenged…

"Come… wanna try me, Champ?"

... Peter went to her, with his racquet…

"Okay, humour me, here is my racquet – lo-and-behold, it is an expensive Babolat – in other words... don't break it!"

... Peter said, as he dragged the wheeled basket of tennis balls over to the other side of the court, and reloaded the Spitfire.

In her school-uniform, Jane stood at the other side of the court with the racquet, giving some commands to her AI.

... she did some hip twisting warm-up and stretched herself loose, and running on the spot – while, hearing some MORE RIDICULING COMMENTS, from the other side.

"A blind-girl from SHS playing tennis – this 'one' must be-a must-see in my bucket-list of things before I croak." He set up the tennis-ball machine's counter...

"Ready Player One!"

... Peter shouted, and the tennis ball sputtered out in succession over the net. Jane missed hitting the ball, and so did with the next few balls – Peter was hysterical, chuckling aloud, like seeing a comedy slapstick, of a blind making a 'fool' of herself, running around like a headless chicken... and hitting none of the balls – with him, shouting out to Jane...

"Look at yourself... do you think it's 'easy' to play tennis, hah...? Move right! Where are you bloody going – Tasmania!? You really must be joking with me, right? I took 6 years since the age of 4, to be good-at-it, okay – and it would be dumb if you 'think' your tech-robot, can-teach-you all of that...!? Hey, the cows are coming home, and yous have 'not' hit a single ball! Come on, give up Jane Wilson – I say tennis is 'not' for you...!"

... Paul saw Peter... inside the fenced court, humiliating Jane, and then walking over laughing, to the tennis ball machine.

"Game over...! I've ‘killed’ the machine off – just give up, it is 'not' a shame that you can't 'cheat' the law of nature, this time around with your high-tech headphones – like you yourself said just now... 'studying is hard effort' – well – I say... that playing tennis, is 'even' harder!"

... Jane stopped to catch her breath. Peter was still talking 'down' at her, from the other side.

"Yeah, give up! I have a new offer for you, Jane Wilson – I PAY YOU $10 AN HOUR, for you to teach me anything-at-all, in my studies – is that a 'deal...?'"

Still panting, blind-Jane voiced-out with irritation, over at the one-armed show-off…

"You Peter, can you just bloody shut-up? You're making me 'lose' focus – I can't follow my SIMY's instructions, with you-drongo yelling over there!" She made Peter laugh, even more, teasing her…

"Is that 'your' excuse? Aww, you poor thing... but you said, you wanted to learn to play tennis."

He stood at the machine AND HEARD JANE CALLING out...

"Turn the machine back 'on' – and you, zip it-up there!"

"Okay, let me at least be the laugh-track to your blind-bat, comedy show." He switched the machine on again…

… she missed again… and hitting the second ball into the net. Peter guffawed out.

"Jane, go 3 paces north-east – tenno-approaching, 5 o'clock – hit now!"

... the ball went over the net…

… so did the 4th ball, 'not' a perfect hit, but an acceptable effort for a blind beginner. Soon Jane was focused and was hitting most of the balls with more ease over – instinctively, coordinating her moves, with the AI's instructions.

… both Peter and Paul saw Jane missed a few balls, that went wide sideways – but, the blind girl delivered' MOST,' OF THE BALLS OVER the net.

... even Peter stopped laughing – and gasped at the athletic, blind girl's moving in effortlessness, running around the court, anticipating the next ball, and slamming it over.

... Peter even noticed that JANE, WAS A LEFT-HANDER – like he 'once' was before, 2 years ago – where he had-lost – that good dominant arm.

He switched-off the Spitfire machine, and ran over to Jane, by hopping over the net...

... Peter held her hand, with the racquet. He also, used his right foot and tapped Jane's left foot, and poking her back, with his finger.

He gave her SOME PRO-TIPS…

"You hold the racquet properly like this – place your feet this way, or else you will be caught flat-footed. Bend over, don't run like an ostrich with your back straight... and you will gain 'more' reach. Remember 'how' you hold the racquet. You can use two hands like this, and you dig hard, like this."

The one-armed boy was behind her, in close proximity, holding her over close, like 'how' Alicia did – when she demonstrated HOW TO USE, a retractable baton for self-defence...

... Paul stood afar, seeing both Jane and his brother, with his stump-arm on her shoulder from the back, sharing a joke, both laughing out...

... he watched a few seconds more in spite, before he excessively sighed...

... and rode off away in his WHEELCHAIR...

... FEELING jealous.

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ALICIA CAME OUT OF THE SCHOOL'S MUSIC STUDIO, from her final practice, of the mid-term. While chatting with the fellow music students, she noticed the bench outside was empty – JANE WAS 'NOT' THERE, waiting for her.

Meanwhile…

… Paul 'hid' in the library – brooding over thoughts, that Jane was now friends to his brother, and played tennis with him. He had to come up with a plan to GET HER BACK, back into his circle. He 'knew' that Alicia would be taking Jane, for high tea in Chinatown later.

... Paul Walker rolled out from the library, on his wheelchair. He intentionally bumped into Alicia, who was waiting in the corridor, strapped her violin case on her back like a rifle. She was holding her cellphone, earbud-phones hooked up to K-pop.

"Pauly, what are you still doing here?"

"I was in the library. Where is Jane...?" Paul 'pretended.'

"I don't know – reckon somewhere – let me call her. We are going for some dim sums – hey Paul, want to 'join' us?"

"Gnarly, why-not, I'm kind of hungry too – give me a head start here, and let me call my Uber-cab. Just give me the GPS on the location in Chinatown, and I 'see' you both there." He waved and left in a hurry.

"Okay, see you there in a bit," Alicia said, while Paul rolled away to the exit ramp, in his motorized wheelchair.

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ALTHOUGH PAUL LEFT THE SCHOOL EARLIER than them, but ...

... he arrived a little later in Chinatown. Jane and Alicia Wong were, in her aunt's restaurant – and, were just in time to order steaming dim sums and other, finger food.

... Paul sat across the 2 girls. He noticed that the blind-Jane was in an eccentric rapt-mood – and speaking out loud-and-fast, about her first-time experience of playing tennis, with Peter. He did 'not' speak much, but was an active listener.

He occasionally 'pretended' to be stoked-excited for Jane – as he actively gathered information, about WHAT-WENT-ON – for that 20 minutes, at the court earlier.

... Alicia joked about Peter being hot-tempered, and at times unpredictable in the court. Even PAUL, 'CAUTIONED' JANE – and told her to inform him, if his twin misbehaved, so, that he can bring it up to his inspector-mother.

Then the order of the dim sum came, in small baskets to their table. While enjoying her favourite Taiwanese stinky-tofu, Jane still can't stop talking about tennis... and her plans for 'mastering' the basics of playing tennis, during their school holidays.

Paul did 'not' eat much because he was shy to do so, in front of his friends – who had invited him out for the 'first' time...

... he was ALSO… 'NOT' GOOD, in eating with chopsticks...

... 2 of the dim sums fell on his lap, and on the tabletop. He-then-soon stabbed the soft-textured food, with the wooden sticks ends like a toothpick, to get an-even more grip to eat – but, the soft dumpling's outer skin broke into pieces, and fell all over his small plate.

The crippled boy got bored, when the conversation was 'ALL' ABOUT PETER-AND-TENNIS – so he excused himself, and took an Uber back home.

<><>

PAUL JUST GOT HOME FROM CHINATOWN.

Home alone...

... his mother and twin were 'not' there – in the 6 roomed, double-storied-house... which his late father... who was an architect – had built.

He used to have his own spacious corner room upstairs – but after he was paralyzed, he had lived in a single room downstairs, for his wheelchair conveniences.

… but he still missed 'dancing' to his radio, in HIS FORMER UPSTAIRS ROOM, with the panoramic view, with curtains drawn.

He spent less time, in his present smaller, WINDOWLESS ROOM... that he now stayed in, and utilizing it only for – his sleeping and his dressing purposes.

His favourite place in that big, and half-empty house – was the kitchen counter in the middle – which faced the IKEA dining table, and with the huge fridge at his rear. But the kitchen counter was hardly utilized now, with his mother, hardly-cooked at home – and was always busy, at work in the police station. Thus…

… the handicap-brothers order takeaways meals delivered to the doorstep.

Paul was parked at his favourite usual spot, at the kitchen counter because the bread toaster and sandwich griller, was on the marbled countertop.

His mother had WARNED HIM 'NOT' TO USE THE HOT STOVE, because it was too high for him, to reach to cook or to deep-fry – but, sometimes he craved for french-fries – that was stashed, frozen and neglected, in the 'freezer.'

He wanted to continue to play his Nova 3 videogame, on his smartphone for a couple of hours, till his mother got back home, in the late evening. He wanted to level-up fast each day, in the game's missions and beat the game by the 'end' of the school holidays.

But, all these 'focus' in lost-time, would make him HUNGRY IN-BETWEEN, in those long and engaging hours – so, he wanted to fix 'some' grilled sandwiches, before he started playing the adventurous, shooting videogame.

He remembered the 'EAT HEALTH' POSTER in the school canteen – with a food pyramid – with lots of pictures of his favourite meats, bread and dairy in it. This evening…

… he decided to fix himself some of his favourite food, and eat a 'healthy' meal.

… Paul usually ate 6 slices of white bread for dinner, which were 3 sets of grilled sangers.

So, he fixed a healthy – cheese and tomato sandwich, as his appetizer – and a big double cheese, and lots of ham in the next sandwich, for his main course...

... finally, for his dessert, it was a grilled sandwich with single cheese with a thick chocolate Nutella spread, sprinkled with a fistful of M&Ms...

... the sandwich griller was slightly smoky, oozing with burnt spillage – and the kitchen counter and school uniform he wore was a mess when he finally made his 'version' of a healthy meal. He wanted to clean up the grill later when it cooled – and, he zoomed into playing his NOVA 3 videogame.

The front door opened in a bit, and Peter walked in, unconsciously cheerful and in high-spirits rapt – laughing to himself. When Peter looked at Paul, and he stopped smiling. He rushed and opened the front door again, exclaiming...

"What's burning in here, Poe...? Did you barbeque the neighbour's cat?"

Paul ignored him and went to the fridge, and reached out to a can of coke. He turned back to Peter and said...

"Hey Pete, you want to know will be perfect – FRENCH-FRIES – do you mind frying some for the both of us?"

Peter declined…

"Nah... I'm 'not' hungry. In fact, I had some burgers with your girlfriends – Janey and her Pekingese-pet Wong."

… Paul's jaw dropped when he heard 'that.'

"You met up with them…? How?" Paul asked, at once.

Also, he ‘only’ heard Alicia, calling JANE-AS-JANEY IN SCHOOL – even he-himself doesn't call her that – but, Peter 'now'... called her Janey too.

"I met those 2 weirdos in Maccas when I ate there, just now. They stopped by, to get a coke, probably they ate too 'much' MSG."

... Peter laughed and came to the counter, and drank from Paul's coke.

He winked. "I then invited Janey over... while Wong was in the line, ordering her coke. Then, Janey said she was still hungry, and I gave her my 'other' burger from my tray. We both ate, and we talked about the tennis practice, I gave earlier."

Peter drank more coke and burped...

"By the way, I'm now Janey's personal tennis 'coach,' during this school holidays, and she will be following me always, in my training. It's my strategic move, in return – where I will get some 'favours' from her MWAH-HA-HA-HAH!"

... Peter 'faked' a villain's laugh.

The poker-faced Paul pretended, TO LISTEN TO HIM – after, knowing the facts earlier, from the dim-sum restaurant.

"Seriously... you are Jane's personal coach?"

Asked Paul, but wanted to dig into more info. "How is 'that' possible...? She is completely blind."

... Peter then laughed...

"Yeah-Crickey, that's what I thought so too – but, that AI that she hooked up on her head, it is giving the 'instructions' to hit. That is fascinating, and – I got an 'eye' on that device too."

He gave a short snicker...

"That is the 'plan,' Poe – BE HER COACH, and get one of her AI 'prototypes,' from her uncle." Peter drank more of Paul's coke and bragged. "In the land of the blind, the 'one-armed bandit' is king. But yeah, today... it's just the first 'day' of my-Jedi training– and my ‘padawan’ is still a work in progress. Then soon, the actual 'tests' begins."

... Paul was silent for a bit, 'not' to react with his poker-face before he said. "I've invited her and Alicia over here too, during the holidays. We will be revising some school work, for the next term."

"Yes, my dear-Paul, I 'know' about that, and they 'mentioned' that too – I also know, they invited you to Chinatown just now, yea...? I heard too, that you made a 'big' mess on the table while eating over there."

Paul's eyes bulged out. " Whaa!? Did they 'say' that?"

... Peter chuckled hard, to see Paul's shocked face.

"Nope-mate, they don't have to, bro. But, I HAVE 'KNOWN' YOU since the dawn-of-times, you don't have table manners in you, Poe – and you simply got no finesse, my Godzilla brother of-my-same-mother – and you eat fast, like a greed pig, and you always spill food from the plate, you fat slob – and then you pick it up from the tabletop and eat that too.

“Hey… LOOK AT ME, hey, I got only 'one' single arm but yet, I can eat without messing the table up."

... Peter was in stitches and he guffawed out.

"Shut up, Peter!" Paul was angry.

Peter came closer to him, still sniggering. "Well, you just ate in Chinatown an hour ago... and 'now,' look at you, my big-big-little bro – oh-ho-boy, you are going to bloody plaster yourself ‘more’ once again, with these 3 sets of sandwiches?"

... Paul rationalized...

"It was Chinese food – I get hungry fast-eating it."

"Is that so, fatso...? Let's go on, and upgrade your order here – do you still want some fries with it, Sir...?"

Peter ruffled Paul's hair… and the tormenting got him even madder...

"Don't touch me, Pete! I'm warning you...!"

"Is that so, Mommy's boy...?"

"Bloody get lost!"

Paul shouted. Peter retreated and laughing – walked towards his room upstairs, and turning his head, pointing to say.

"Hey, you, 'rat' – I'm 'STILL-WATCHING' you."

... Paul sat alone at the counter thinking about Peter having burgers and sharing jokes at McDonald's with Jane – Jane was having a 'GOOD' TIME with him, like ‘when’ in the tennis court.

His tummy rumbled its chorus at the thought of 'them' eating McDonald's together, and he was still mad. He reached and picked up the larger, grilled-ham and cheese sandwich from the plate, and took a 'huge' bite. He chewed and swallowed fast, before biting more in spite, more than he could swallow.

… Paul then 'choked'...

... he realized Peter had FINISHED HIS COKE…

…and he knocked the empty can by swinging at it, it rolled over the countertop. Slapping his chest, and breathing hard, and he choked 'more'...

... he spun his wheels towards the jug of water by the kitchen sink. He drank straight from the jug, swallowed hard, snorting out water from his nostrils, and spilling more water over his school uniform... coughing...

... Paul HAD 'LOST' HIS appetite that evening.

He came back angry to the kitchen counter, and picked his plate and dumped, the 3 sandwiches in the trash bin.

He too left the messed-up kitchen and headed to his own windowless room ...

... to dwell on, even more...

... of the saga, of Pete and Janey.