“For goodness sake, Brad. Why would you do that? No, don’t answer it was rhetorical.” Teachers did that all the time when talking to Brad. He had to get very good at knowing which questions he should answer and which ones he should not.

“What are you playing at?” Don’t answer that one.

“Who do you think you are?” Nope.

“How do you spell rhetorical?” He couldn’t answer that one, though he probably should be able to.

School was hard when you couldn’t remember which questions you should answer and which ones you shouldn’t. That was what it was like for Brad. It was not his fault. He was just wired that way. He’d heard his teacher telling his parents that she thought he was artistic because he took everything so literally. Brad didn’t agree with that (he’d never enjoyed drawing) and neither did his parents.  They had said, “No way, he’s just naughty. Try shouting at him more.” Brad didn’t agree with that either. He hated being shouted at. The loud noises made his brain itch. In Friday Superhero assemblies, when everyone cheered, it sounded like lights flashing behind his eyes. He couldn’t explain it. It made him feel like screaming. He had some ear defenders to help, and they did, a bit.

One Tuesday, Brad knew it was a Tuesday because the bakery next to his house put too many raisins in the pastries and Tuesday was raisin delivery day. Monday always had the least because they used too many on Tuesdays. One Tuesday, Brad was on his way into school with a spring in his step. On a Tuesday, the loud Mrs Bluster, his usual teacher, had the morning off to drink tea and eat biscuits and the amazing Mr Splendid taught him for English and Maths. Brad liked Mr Splendid. He was interested in all the same things Brad was. He always let him finish when explaining why he knew it was Tuesday and he never raised his voice. This made Brad very comfortable. In Brad’s eyes, Mr Splendid was a hero.

“Morning everyone,” Mr Splendid beamed at Redwood class.

“GooooD Mooornnnninggggg, Misssssterrrrrr Splenddddidddd,” droned the class in a rote response.

Brad was having a lot of thoughts that morning. He knew he couldn’t say them all so he picked the best fourteen and started telling no one in particular. “I passed twenty-seven snails on my way to school today, which is four more than this time last year. I heard it was because of the wet summer we had.”

“Erm, that’s great, Brad, but we were talking about adverbial phrases this morning,” said Mr. Splendid kindly.

“Sorry, sir, I hadn’t notice we’d started.” Brad said. Mr Splendid frowned at this, he was looking tired today, so Brad told him. “Mr Splendid, you look very tired this morning, and you have something very red on under your shirt today. I read last year that the top causes for tiredness in grown-ups are stress, money problems, and romantic issues. Are you having trouble with her indoors?” It was a phrase he’d heard his dad use, and he was sure it meant girlfriend. It must mean something else from Mr. Splendid’s reaction. He went bright red in the face and looked like he was about to shout.

“WHO DO YOU…” Before he could get going, Brad dived under the table with his ear defenders. The rest of the class gasped. When Brad had done this last week, when Mrs. Bluster had been teaching, he’d been dragged from the room kicking and screaming. His parents got called up again that day to discuss his artwork. Mr. Splendid  took a deep breath, and Brad watched him count to ten.

“That is very observant of you, Brad but it is also very rude of you to point it out. I would like you to go to Ms. Helmer’s classroom to calm down. Brad did not want to go so he shook his head. Mr Splendid ignored him for the rest of the lesson. Brad did his best to sink into the floor and not be noticed. When Brad came out to sit at the table near the end of the lesson, he was told that they would be discussing what happened at playtime.

During play the rest of the children filed out full of knowledge about adverbial phrases that would stand them in good stead in the future. Brad remained at the table. He was upset with himself. He’d let Mr. Splendid down and Mr. Splendid was a hero. To make matters worse, Mr. Splendid was being so nice to Brad. He tucked a red eye mask back into the top of his bag and came over to the table. He looked like he didn’t want anyone seeing him do that so Brad pretended he hadn’t seen. He scratched his head hard to get rid of the itch that caused. Brad did not feel as though he deserved any kindness. He needed to be shouted at, like his dad did, like everyone did. Mr Splendid explained calmly that the language Brad used was sexist and some people might find it offensive. Brad immediately added it to the imaginary list of things he was not to say. It was a long list. Society had so many rules and other people always knew what to say and do, how to act. Brad got it wrong daily.

Mr Splendid also explained that a teacher’s personal life was not to be brought up by pupils because it was private. Brad felt rotten. Mr. Splendid then made it worse by actually apologising to Brad. He said that he had been having a tough time at home and Brad’s comment hit a nerve. He apologised again for losing his temper. Brad swallowed down the guilt rising inside him and ignored the itch of unsaid words. He didn’t remember hitting any nerves but keeping his mouth shut when he had done something wrong was rule one of school learnt in the early days.

“You know, I could do with some of your straight up honesty at home with Sue at the moment.” Mr Splendid chuckled before letting Brad go out to the playground with the wailing, screeching children. As Brad made his way to the computer room he couldn’t believe Mr Splendid wanted his help at home. It took him ten minutes to hack into the school system and find out his address. Wouldn’t it be a surprise when he turned up tonight, at eight o’clock. Anything to help his hero, Mr. Splendid.