Jump to content
  • Join For Free and Get Notified of New Chapters!

    Are you enjoying a great story and want to get an alert or email when a new chapter is posted? Join now for free and follow your favorite stories and authors!  You can even choose to get daily or weekly digest emails instead of getting flooded with an email for each story you follow. 

     

    quokka
  • Author
  • 2,599 Words
  • 1,878 Views
  • 21 Comments
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Another Brother - 5. Bro Ch 5

Once inside, four of Marcus’s class mates closed and locked the door, and stood guard, as Marcus, George and I approached the front counter, where the Deputy Principal was in discussion with one of the admin staff.

“Mr Patterson, what can I do for you, and who are these two strangers?” the Deputy Principal asked Marcus. “Sir, one of these boys is not a stranger to this school, may I introduce Austin Kimbolton, a former student and older brother to current student Oscar Kimbolton and this is his good friend from his current school George Castalia,” Marcus responded.

“Oh, I see, so I am presuming that this visit has something to do with the incident outside the school last Friday?” the Deputy Principal said, “No sir, it was on school property at the bike racks where it happened and it has to do with my little brother being severely bashed by seven of your senior students, who are two and three years older than him. This has resulted in Oscar being rushed to hospital, once we became aware of his injuries and I suggest you check your security cameras for confirmation,” I growled as I took a step closer to the man.

“Please step away from me Mr Kimbolton, or I will have you removed from the school,” the Deputy Principal said to me, but I stayed where I was, and eventually, he took a step back, just as a staff member appeared, “Sir, there seems to be some tension happening around the school yards, a small group have been following seven senior boys around, since they arrived,” the staff member said before she realised that we were in the room. “Hello, it is Austin, isn’t it? It is good to see you again,” she added, to confirm that I was known to the school.

“Your doing Mr Kimbolton?” the Deputy Principal asked me, “No sir, that would be me and all of my male classmates, showing support against bullying in the school, which your staff cannot seem to get control of, as it has been happening far too much since this gang of thugs arrived, so we are keeping a very close eye on them,” Marcus said, as he smiled proudly.

At that point, one of the classmates opened the admin door and let out and ear-piercing whistle, before closing and locking the door again. What students we could see from the admin building suddenly sat down where ever they were, which I had no idea that this was going to happen.

“This sir; is a student protest, on the lack of action by the school administration to deal with the growing amount of bullying happening in the school. No students will be participating in any school classes today, until something is done,” Marcus announced.

“Ok, this was a little more than I expected, I have made my point, and we will head back to our school. Thankyou Marcus for your support, and thank all of your classmates too,” I said, as we shook hands, and the door was unlocked and opened to let us out. Fifteen minutes later we entered our school, only to find the exact same thing, all the students were sitting down on the ground, refusing to go to class.

“Hey guys, what is happening?” I asked one of my class mates, “We heard about what happened to your brother Oscar, and we know about the sit-down protest at his school, so we have joined in with the protest, as has three other schools in the district,” was the response, which was quite a surprise.

A short while later, as we just sat and chatted, three senior staff members approached, including the school principal. “Mr Kimbolton, I understand this is all of your doing,” I was asked, “No sir, Austin had nothing to do with organising this, actually, he was off school campus until a short while ago, we as senior class members asked the rest of the student population if they would join us in a sit-down protest, along with four other schools, in response to the lack of action in regards to school bullying by students,” one of my classmates responded, before I could say a word.

Quite some time later when the siren sounded for the morning recess break, all the students stood up and either headed to the bathrooms or just walked around a little to stretch their legs, but as soon as the siren sounded for the next class, we all sat down again, refusing to attend any classes for third period.

When the principal threatened to suspend us all for taking this action, the counter threat of going to the school board to make them aware of the situation was made, and the Principal and teachers just returned to their offices or the staff room. As agreed by the other schools, the sit-down protest would last until lunch time.

From then, it was up to the students at each school to decide if they all go home early or goes back to attending classes, and the former was what eventually happened. It wasn’t long after I arrived home, that Mrs Castalia arrived, with George in tow.

“What is this that I hear about a school sit down protest at not just your school but four other schools too?” George’s Mum said to me, and I put both hands up in surrender.

“Easy there Mrs C, I had nothing to do with it, all George and I did was go to Oscar’s school to let the Principal know that we were not very happy about my little brother being severely bashed, it was the school network of friends that organised all of that, not us,” I replied, and George nodded in agreement to this statement.

“Before your family came to the district, I too attended that same school, so I still have younger brothers of former classmates still attending, and as soon as they heard about what had happened, they organised it all. The school tried to say that the incident happened off school grounds, which I corrected them on, and suggested that they check their security cameras,” I stated, as George went to the lounge, sat down, turned on the television and relaxed.

“We interrupt this programme, with a special news item. What started as one school student population reacting to one of its own been bashed and sent to hospital due to bullying, has expanded to students in a total of 14 schools in the district doing a sit-down protest in support against bullying.

We understand that the 12-year-old boy, who is the main victim in regards to what started this protest, is recovering in the Children’s hospital, suffering from multiple injuries. We approached the police for a statement, and were told that enquiries were being made, but nothing more could be said about the case. We return you to your normal programme…” we heard a news announcer say.

A few moments later I received a text message. “Just seen the news broadcast about the school protest, wow 14 schools, it seems that the student network of friends is working well around here. How is Oscar, is he ok?” Give him our best regards, and hope he recovers soon.

You were right, the whole thing was captured on the security camera, right where Oscar said it happened and the police turned up about half an hour after you left and arrested the Orbison brothers and their gang, which was about two minutes after they had officially been suspended from school, pending a hearing to determine if they should be expelled. Regards Marcus.”

“Wow, that is interesting,” I commented, as I showed George the text message. “The boys responsible for hurting Oscar; have been suspended from school and were arrested by the police after we had left the school,” I explained to Mrs Castalia.

“I see, well I hope they learn their lesson, as what they did to Oscar was so wrong. But please, next time you decided to do something like that, please keep me in the loop, so I know what is happening with you boys,” Mrs Castalia said to us both.

That evening, I was invited over to the Castalia house for dinner, and as we watched the news the second item was about the school protest, in support of stopping bullying.

At the end of the item, it was revealed that a total of nine boys aged 14 and 15 years have been charged with aggravated assault with intent of causing harm, and they were remanded in youth detention until their next court appearance.

“Wow, they are in prison… that I did not expect to happen,” George commented between mouthfuls of food. I ended up staying overnight at their place, and while eating breakfast the next morning, we listened to the radio news, where the main item was the student and parent protest at now over twenty schools in the area.

“Holy Cr…” George started to say, “Yes, you will be eating exactly that if you finish that statement out loud,” Mr Castalia said to George, who snapped his mouth shut. “Yes, I received an email early this morning, from the Parents Association, informing us of the protest outside the school,” Mrs Castalia stated.

“Do we still go to school Mum?” George asked, “Yes, because as long as you go there, you will be recorded as attending for the day, even if you don’t get to do any school work. When we arrived at school, there were students and their parents all there, with placards calling for action of school bullies.

We both registered as arriving at school, and we decided to head to the library where it is a little quieter than outside, and we spent most of the school day there, until the librarian said she was closing down the library for the day at 2 pm. After two days of protests, things started to go back to normal at the school, and we were back attending normal classes again.

 

At the end of the first full day of normal classes, Mrs Castalia was parked in the school car park and asked me to join them for a brief meeting with Mr Masters at their place, as he had some important news to tell me, and to tell Oscar later.

A short while later we arrived at the Castalia home. I was shown into Mr Castalia’s study, where he and Mr Masters were chatting. On my arrival Mr Castalia left the study, closing the door behind him, and I nervously waited to find out what this was about.

“Austin, I was sorting through some of your grandmother’s financial statements, and I came across an unusual monthly payment made to an unexpected organisation. After a few enquiries and fighting through a fair amount of government red tape, I have been able to get a full picture of the situation.

There is no easy way of telling you this, but I need you to know that you and Oscar have another brother,” Mr Masters announced to me. I must have fainted, as I woke up lying on the ground, with Mrs Castalia, looking over me with a concerned expression.

“Are you ok dear? You fainted, probably from the news you just received,” Mrs Castalia said to me, “Yes, I feel fine thanks, I think and… I don’t understand, what do you mean we have another brother?” I asked Mr Masters, who stood in one corner of the study, as I sat up and slowly stood up and I was led to a chair to take a seat.

“Your brother – Edgar, was born with some disabilities, which at the time your parents did not know how to deal with, and so at the age of just one year old, Edgar was transferred to a private institution to be looked after full time. Your brother is three years younger than you, so you were just four years old when he was sent away, and he is now 14 years old.

Yesterday, I visited the place where he has been looked after, and it is at a remote Catholic Monastery, even thou your parents are not of that faith, and I can tell you that he is being very well taken care of. Surprisingly Edgar is a very intelligent teenager, as a baby he had Polio as well as him being autistic and dyslexic, but he has received a top-quality education, and by distant observation you would not know that he has a disability.

A lot of physiotherapy has helped to reduce the amount of mobility issues that he had as a child, and he only walks with a limp, but he can’t run, jump or play outdoor sports like other kids. Instead, he is very talented with chess, art and he like to do a lot of swimming, which is also part of his physiotherapy.

Edgar received visits from your mother three times a week until she was killed, and on one of those days your grandmother also visited. He knows about your grandmother’s passing, and he has been very sad lately, and I managed to convince the people at the Monastery to let Edgar know that he still has family, and that he would soon be able to meet them, which cheered him up a lot.

I received a call from them today, to let me know that Edgar wants to meet his other relatives, so this is why we have had to let you know of his existence, and…” Mr Masters said to me before I interrupted him, “Oh my gosh! Please take me home, I need to check something that I have just realised, please, I need to go home right now,” I said in an urgent tone.

When asked why I just said that I needed to get home, and fifteen minutes later, I jumped out of the car, as it came to a stop in the alleyway, and unlocking the gate, I rushed to the cottage, unlocking the door and I raced into the lounge room, and I looked at the large painting that has been hanging on the wall for as long as I can remember, a painting where the artists signature is one name… Edgar.

By the time the Castalia family had joined me in the cottage I was kneeling on the floor and crying, looking directly at the painting. A scenery oil painting of a large tree on a hill, where there is a swing, with a small boy on it, and nearby a woman holding onto a young child.

“Oh, my goodness! Is that…” Mrs Castalia exclaimed when she realised the significance of the painting and why I was crying. The artist was my long-lost brother, and the scene of the painting was of me on a swing, a long-forgotten event that happened many years ago, with Mum watching and holding onto my younger brother - Edgar.

When I settled down a bit and taken a few deep breaths, I stood up and walked over to the painting. “I remember that day, it was one of the happiest days of my life, not knowing that the next day everything was about to change.

Mum and later Gran, always told me to never sell this painting, as it has a special family connection, and that it was their most valuable painting, and now I know why,” I explained. “That is, you in the painting? But who painted it?” George said sounding a little confused.

Copyright December 2021 All Rights are reserved, Preston Wigglesworth
  • Like 34
  • Love 21
  • Wow 7
  • Sad 9
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
You are not currently following this author. Be sure to follow to keep up to date with new stories they post.

Recommended Comments

Chapter Comments

I too say Wow(!), not what I was expecting!  quokka, you definitely know how to ramp up my interest in the story!  After each chapter, I grow even more impatient for the next chapter, because it is just so good it leaves me wanting more!

Link to comment
1 hour ago, frosenblum said:

What does "Connollyesque" mean? Is it Aussie specific? Thanks.

I thought it referred to a British comedian with the last name of Connolly.  My dad (RIP) loved British comedy and this Connolly had a bit of a raunchy mouth\comedy style.  My dad used to refer to someone with a nice butt as having a nice "bike rack" because Connolly had this joke, something about how he murdered his wife and buried her bottoms-up so that he had a place to park his bike.

Link to comment
4 hours ago, Gregory said:

I thought it referred to a British comedian with the last name of Connolly.  My dad (RIP) loved British comedy and this Connolly had a bit of a raunchy mouth\comedy style.  My dad used to refer to someone with a nice butt as having a nice "bike rack" because Connolly had this joke, something about how he murdered his wife and buried her bottoms-up so that he had a place to park his bike.

Actually, Sir William 'Billy' Connolly, CBE fessed up to not being the creator of that joke, but putting his unique spin on it. His Scottish father and my Scottish grandfather were the same age. The 'original' Glasgow version of that joke was made in reference to much despised Solicitors and went like this: "Why do Scots bury Solicitors with their pale white arses sticking out of the dirt? So the wee ones (kiddies) have some place to put their bicycles".  Funnier due to the number of solicitors? 

  • Haha 5
Link to comment

The principal and the teachers need to be held accountable for allowing the bullying of Oscar to go unchecked, they give the impression that they don’t care what happens to the students in their schools 

  • Like 1
  • Love 4
Link to comment

For sure all around the world bullying in school is a issue, in some it is a real problem in others not so much  In the fantasy of fiction it was amazing how it was handled in "Another Brother".  If that reaction were only real. The sad fact it is very hard for schools to control bullying. There are always the boys will be boys reaction leaving the bullied with no where to turn. Plus all over the world the might makes right scenario plays out with police often using bullying tactics. Might makes right is the basis of almost all forms of discipline. If only it could be dealt with as effectively as in the story. 

The plot thickens, will Austin become the guardian for both his little brothers going forward? Young Eager being autistic and dyslexic could very much be a handful. 

Link to comment

Ohh give me more - love the pace of the story - use the voice recognition to speed things up - LOL - 

Link to comment
quokka

Posted (edited)

13 hours ago, Jon Jon said:

Ohh give me more - love the pace of the story - use the voice recognition to speed things up - LOL - 

That would be all good, if my brain worked that way when I am writing, but sadly it isn't.

For some strange reason, the words come to my head as I am typing,. I have tried to think of the story in my head, and record it, but sadly all I get is a blank space with flickering, like a television that isn't working...

 

Edited by quokka
  • Love 1
  • Haha 1
  • Sad 1
Link to comment
View Guidelines

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Newsletter

    You probably have a crazy and hectic schedule and find it hard to keep up with everything going on.  We get it, because we feel it too.  Signing up here is a great way to keep in touch and find something relaxing to read when you get a few moments to spare.

    Sign Up
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

Our Privacy Policy can be found here: Privacy Policy. We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..