“Maybe they haven’t started classes yet—that’s what’s missing!” The boy wiped away some snot. “I wanna go too!”
Another somewhat chubby boy piped up, “You need money to go to school. We don’t have any money. Ms. Queta is already working several jobs to feed us. We can’t ask her for any more!”
“I’m hungry!” the little girl whined.
“I’ll find you some bread in a bit!”
“Why are you urchins crowding the gates? Get lost!” A security guard came out, hollering in fury.
The three children leaped up in fright.
The guard was in his fifties, the sort you might find at a construction site.
The children were visibly terrified by him, and on the verge of fleeing—but they kept on gazing at the school, just a little longer…
Gerald spoke up: “They’re only looking. That’s fine, isn’t it? It’s not like you paid for this school.”
“Kid, I didn’t say anything about you going inside earlier, but don’t be putting on any airs with me! You don’t own this school any more than I do… now, get lost!”
The man was red and blustering. He had clearly had a few pints to go with his lunch—his breath reeked of alcohol.
“Here, buy yourself a real drink.” With a little smile, Gerald reached into his wallet and tossed him a hundred bucks.
This money obviously wasn’t being offered as a compliment. Gerald made a note to recommend the man to be fired later. A lousy old drunkard in charge of security, probably hustled in by a friend in the company.
“Yo! Alright, alright! Thanks a lot, man!” Then the guard left.
Gerald knelt down and smiled at the children. “You kids wanna go to school, too?”
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