Later that afternoon, homework carelessly completed, Larry wandered moodily around the garden, kicking at a stone as he went. His hands were thrust into his pockets, his head down. He was so bored! He reached the wall that bordered the road and, propping himself up against a gate post, crossed his arms and stared sullenly through the bars down the street. There was not a soul in sight. On either side of the road high walls and dense shrubs protected and screened the silent, stately houses hidden in the depths of the gardens beyond. No children ever played in these carefully tended gardens, where edges were constantly trimmed, leaves swept up daily and weeds whipped away the minute they dared to slip their heads above the soil. This was a “good suburb” and his parents had been thrilled to buy in this area when they’d arrived there two months ago.
Their home was lovely, thought Larry, glancing back at the house. It was large and roomy – he even had his own little study and a bathroom all to himself across the passage. And there was a pool which he’d never had before. It had been fun to splash around in that at first but eventually he’d grown tired of swimming on his own and now that winter was here, the water was too cold to be any fun anyway.
Larry kicked out at the gatepost. The school wasn’t too bad and he’d settled there pretty well. The schoolwork was much the same as it had been in the previous school. He knew he shouldn’t have any trouble keeping up with the other kids, but these days he just couldn’t be bothered to make much of an effort at it. There were a couple of boys he’d made friends with in his class but none of them lived around here. Once he came home in the afternoon he was completely on his own. Day after day with nothing to do. He was tired of reading, tired of making lonely trips up and down the drive on his BMX, tired even of practicing roller-skating and of playing TV games all on his own.
Once again Larry kicked at the gatepost. Suddenly, he bent to the ground and picked up a fistful of gravel and began aiming at the nearby streetlamp. If his mother caught him there’d be big trouble but the way he felt at the moment he just didn’t care.
Inside the house, Laura Lawrence was standing by the lounge window, watching her son through the net curtains, a troubled expression on her face. She was a short, slim woman, with shoulder length hair the colour of Larry’s, and a kind face. Between her fingers was the note Miss Ponting had written and which Mrs. Lawrence had just discovered in Larry’s pocket while putting his school clothes to wash. So he was in trouble at school again. And now he was throwing stones, once again deliberately doing things he knew he shouldn’t. She gave a heavy sigh and, instead of calling out to Larry to stop the stone-throwing immediately, as she knew she should, she sank onto the couch and stared sightlessly into the fireplace in front of her.
She really was at her wits’ end to know what to do about Larry. He’d changed so much in the last couple of months. Everything had been fine before they moved there – Larry was a cheerful, happy child and, according to his teachers, was doing his schoolwork well and to the best of his ability. It was only with Mr. Lawrence’s transfer that their problems seemed to have started. They’d been so happy to find this lovely home and the school Larry was zoned for had an excellent reputation. The family had arrived there in high spirits, looking forward to starting a new and exciting era of their lives. She and Mr. Lawrence had settled well and quickly. Although Larry had started off well enough at school, he had gradually begun to let his work slide. He was forever into mischief and naughtiness at school and at home he’d become uncommunicative and moody. He spent his afternoons and weekends mooching sullenly around the house, snapping and snarling at anyone who tried to talk to him. He had changed from a cheerful, happy little boy into a silent, miserable one.
Mrs. Lawrence rubbed a tear from her cheek and then, as the sound of crashing glass reached her ears, leapt up with an exclamation and flew to the front door.
At the gate Larry stood staring defiantly at the shattered heap of glass which lay at the base of the street lamp. He hardly even looked up as his mother came running down the drive and, on her angry instructions, went off silently to his room to await the return of his father.
Much later that night, long after Larry had had the lecture and the hiding which he knew he deserved, and had sobbed himself to sleep, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence lay in bed discussing the problem.
”I just don’t know what to do,” wept Mrs. Lawrence. ”He’s not the boy he used to be. He’s bad-tempered and moody, his schoolwork is going downhill and now his teacher wants to talk to us. He seems to take pleasure these days in doing all the things he knows he shouldn’t.”
Luke Lawrence lay silent for a moment. He was a tall, slim man with a greying moustache and a dimple on his chin like Larry’s. Finally, he said:
”Maybe Larry needs a bit of excitement in his life. What do you say we go ahead and buy that caravan we saw advertised on the notice-board of the supermarket the other day? The school holidays are coming up in a couple of weeks and we could all go off for five days to that caravan park we were told about on the way to the Kruger National Park. It’d be a break for you from the house, I’d have no problem getting a couple of days off, and it might just do the trick as far as Larry’s concerned. He can help me jack up the van and then, when we go, we can get him involved in the camping site. It might do him the world of good.”
And so it was arranged. A few days later a second hand, three metre long caravan stood in the Lawrence’s yard and in two weeks’ time they were booked into ‘Boma in the bushveld’, a caravan park, for a stay of five days.
... to be continued
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#### Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1 - https://hive.blog/fiction/@bdmomuae/gd2nt-larry-finds-a-buddy-fiction-chapter-1
