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“Don’t worry Sunny, we can defeat the bad guy! With the power of friendship!”
Mark’s eyes are glued to the tv screen, small hands tightly gripping a cushion. He doesn’t even notice that he’s about to fall off the couch until his dad places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Careful there Mark, don’t want you getting hurt.”
He absently nods, slowly moving back into the couch, watching the screen intently. The show ends how it always does. The characters all join together, and with the power of friendship and a giant laser beam, they blast the bad guy off into the sunset. Mark’s dad turns the TV off as the credits begin to roll and he urges Mark to get ready for bed. Mark is still lost in thought from the latest episode even as he wriggles under the covers of his blanket and clutches his tiger plushy. Mark’s dad puts a thumb to his furrowed brows and rubs gently.
“What’s on your mind kiddo?”
Mark fidgets a little before speaking. “Dad… Is friendship really that powerful?”
“Well, it won’t actually make a giant laser appear from the sky if you’re asking,” He chuckles in reply, “but it is extremely important. You’ll have many friends throughout your life. Some may come and go, and some may stay, but they’ll all be very special to you in their own way.”
“So they can go?” Mark asks, round eyes full of question marks directed at his dad.
“Yes, but that’s never a bad thing.” He says, ruffling his bob of black hair. “Get some sleep Mark, you’ve got school tomorrow.”
Mark just nods as he lies back in bed, completely silent as his dad turns off his bedroom light and closes his bedroom door.
“…Some may come and go, and some may stay, but they’ll all be very special to you in their own way…”
His dad’s words echo through his mind as Mark places his bag in the shelf and pulls out his watermelon shaped pencil case. He’s still very distracted by last night’s conversation as he walks to his wooden desk and sits down. If he wasn’t so occupied, he would’ve noticed the figure that suddenly pulls his chair out from under him in the last second.
“Ow!” Mark crashes to the ground with a heavy thud.
“Good Morning Markie!!!” A loud, nasally voice belts. Mark’s head starts to throb.
He turns around and comes face to face with a tanned boy, teeth bared in a ferocious smile.
“…Good morning Donghyuck…” Mark weakly replies.
Donghyuck roughly grabs Mark’s arm and yanks him off the ground before abruptly letting go, leaving Mark to fumble around for his balance.
“I totally got you there, did you see your face!” He laughs his high, nasally laugh and Mark weakly laughs along, trying to ignore the building lump in his throat and stomach.
“Anyway, I wanted to ask, this homework I copied off you,” Donghyuck pulls out a marked notebook. “I only got around 70% this time.”
“Yeah me too…” Mark reluctantly replies.
“You usually get like 80 or 90% though? What happened?”
Mark really doesn’t want to answer, but the insistent stare Donghyuck is giving him leaves Mark no choice. “I usually get my mom or dad to help with the harder questions but they were really busy and I kind of rushed last week…”
“That’s super lame! I hope they’re not as busy this week then.”
“…Yeah”
“Aren’t you glad I’m asking about this? Friends gotta look out for one another.” Donghyuck smiles smugly at Mark, and all it does is give Mark the heebee jeebies.
He wonders if friends were always copying your homework, or pulling out your chairs, or tying your shoelaces together and making you trip. No, no, no, Mark thinks. It’s fine, we’re supposed to be friends. Their moms are friends, their dads are friends. Heck, even their favourite characters are best friends. Everyone always says that they’re inseparable, salt and pepper, peanut butter and jelly. Best friends forever. Mark thinks about it and realises that forever is going to be a very, very, very long time. He frowns.
The day rolls onwards and it’s already P.E time. The kids are all gathered on the soccer field where the teacher splits them into teams. Donghyuck, naturally, announces himself as captain, and all everyone else can do is agree.
“-and Mark will be goalie.”
“But I was goalie the last 5 games! I want to try out some other positions!”
Mark deeply regrets his outburst as Donghyuck glares at him and narrows his eyes. He tries to look away and splutter a sorry before Donghyuck replies in an ice-cold voice.
“Chen Le, do you want to be goalie?”
“No…”
“Jeno, do you want to be goalie?”
“That’s super lame, no.”
The rest of the team stares at Mark, with Donghyuck’s stare searing into him the most, and he feels like he’s shrinking into nothing.
“Looks like you have to take one for the team.” There it is, that smug, smarmy tone Mark hears whenever he gets something wrong.
Jisung pipes up in a small, mousey voice. “I can be goalie next game….”
“Of course you can, but for this game, it’s going to be Mark, isn’t it.” Donghyuck’s sharp glare doesn’t leave Mark as he feels that lump in his throat get bigger and bigger, and all he can do is nod vigorously.
Donghyuck slaps Mark on the back and Mark stumbles forward.
“Wow, isn’t Mark such a great friend? Three cheers for Mark!”
A chorus of weak cheers fly up into the hot summer afternoon as Mark takes his place between the goalposts and bitterly thinks about how great a friend he is to Donghyuck.
He goes home as he usually does, on the bus with his head down and completely silent. He walks dejectedly from the bus stop to his house and notices his parents and the car out on the driveway. They must’ve been waiting for him to get home! Mark runs to them, suddenly remembering what day it is today.
“There’s my baby!” Mark’s mom catches him in her arms and gives him a great big bear hug, which Mark gladly reciprocates. It makes him feel instantly better as he rests his small, pudgy face on her shoulder.
“You ready to go see your great-great-great auntie Man Yeo today?” Mark’s dad smiles down at him and Mark looks up at his dad.
“…I guess.”
“Oh, don’t sound so sad, she loves it when we visit.”
“I think she’s kind of creepy…”
Mark’s mom leads him towards the car. “She’s harmless darling, and we only visit once a month.”
Mark goes into the car and slowly buckles up his seatbelt. It’ll only be a few hours, Mark thinks.
The sky slowly gets darker as they drive towards Auntie Man Yeo’s house. Mark watches as the sun sinks into the ground. Wisps of sunlight are slowly replaced by starry dots and the crescent moon, hanging low and shining a sickly yellow. Flocks of birds fly high over the car, cawing obnoxiously loud, and Mark is reminded of floppy brown hair and sharp, taunting eyes. Mark closes his eyes and tries to sleep, desperately wishing he had his tiger plushy on him. It takes less effort than Mark realises, as he feels himself being gently shaken and opens his eyes to his parents leaning over him, passenger door open and parked on Auntie Man Yeo’s tiny driveway.
They walk hand in hand towards the door and let themselves in with a key Auntie Man Yeo gave to them for these visits. Mark really doesn't want to be here. It’s old and musty, and there are cobwebs all over the place, which means spiders, and Mark hates spiders. He hangs his head as his mother takes hold of his hand and leads him into the dark bedroom, where the curtains have been drawn shut. They look like they’ve never been opened. Mark feels his skin prickle and itch and the grip on his parent’s hands tighten. He smells Auntie Man Yeo before he sees her. Odd spices that burn at his sensitive nostrils, dust, and something that makes Mark’s stomach flip, and not in the good, amusement park way. He carefully raises his head to see a gaunt, little old lady with deep lines etched into her face. Two tiny dark beads for eyes stare out of her still face and Mark has to will himself not to look away as he speaks, because he remembers his mom saying that talking to someone without looking at them is very rude.
“Hello Auntie Man Yeo.”
“Hello Mark. I missed you.” She pats the armrest on her chair, a signal for Mark to come closer.
“Hi Auntie Man Yeo.” His mom smiles and tries to push Mark towards the old lady.
“So nice of you all to visit.” She says slowly and softly.
“We’re always glad to visit.” Mark’s mom replies. She nods at her husband and they go towards the door. “We’ll get started on the pork kimchi soup, and Mark here can keep you company.”
Mark can’t help it, but his lips immediately curve into a scared pout and his mother tries to reassure him.
“It’s quite alright Mark, we’re just going to be in the kitchen.” She whispers. “Just 5 minutes, as soon as 5 minutes pass your dad or I will come and check up on you two. Is that ok Mark?”
Mark mutely nods, even though it’s not alright and he can feel his hands shaking as his parents disappear through the door. It’s just them, and a suffocating silence fills the room for a few seconds before Auntie Man Yeo speaks.
“How are you at school?”
Mark gulps. “It’s good.”
“Oh Mark darling, it’s not good to lie. You’re miserable at school aren’t you?” It’s a question but Auntie Man Yeo says it like a statement. Mark doesn’t have it in him to disagree.
“You’re very lonely aren’t you.” She breathes out and Mark feels that lump in his throat return. He shakes in his scuffed trainers and scratches at his shorts. Auntie Man Yeo has never been this strange before, but he never seems to remember what happens when he goes to her house. Just that he hates it.
“You need a friend.”
“I have more than enough friends.” Mark himself is startled by the sudden outburst. He clasps white, clammy hands over his mouth and scolds himself for talking back to Auntie Man Yeo, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“Be a dearie and go open the cabinet over there.” She raises a gnarled and knobbly index finger to the corner of the dark room, where a wooden cabinet, covered in dust, stands. He obediently goes over and slowly opens it, trying and failing not to disturb the thick blanket of dust over the whole thing. He coughs violently and blinks for a while, trying in vain to get the dust out of his eyes. Through tears and filth, he spots a brilliant white figure. It seems to emit its own light, shining like an uncovered lightbulb in the dusky room. He continues to blink and adjusts his eyes until they focus on the object in the cabinet.
It’s a porcelain doll. One of the most beautiful dolls Mark thinks he’s ever seen. The doll has a big, stark white face with neat, blond hair split perfectly in the middle. Its nose and lips are both round and perfectly drawn on, not a single flaw on its pretty, delicate face. The doll is dressed in a floaty white ruffle shirt and simple black pants. It looks simultaneously as old as time and younger than a newborn. Mark slowly lifts it and cradles it in his arms, shivering as cold porcelain rests against his skin. He marvels at how clean and brand new it looks. The cabinet clearly hasn’t been touched in years, and yet the doll shines and shimmers, not a scuff mark or a single speck of dust to be seen. However, all of this pales in comparison to its eyes. The doll’s eyes are huge. Even wide-eyed Mark thinks he can’t hold a candle to the doll’s eyes as they stare into him. They’re set deep into its face, like giant precious black pearls lying in the centre of an oyster. They sparkle with light that doesn’t seem to come from anywhere and Mark feels those beautiful, deadly eyes grow wider and wider, staring at both nothing and everything. He hugs the doll tight to his chest.
“His name is Tyong.” Mark feels like his Auntie is talking from the end of a long tunnel. He forces himself to look back to his Auntie.
“He’s also very lonely you know. I think you two will get along mighty fine.” She nods, sounding very pleased with herself, along with something else Mark can’t place.
Mark jumps as his mom appears in the doorway, breaking the strange tension in the room.
“Hey you two, having fun?” Mark’s mom spots the doll in Mark’s arms and surprise fills her face.
“What do you have there, Mark?”
“A doll, mom! I think Auntie Man Yeo wants me to have it?” He looks hopefully over at his great aunt.
“Wow, really? It looks like a very expensive doll…”
Auntie Man Yeo nods in agreement, smiling to reveal a row of crooked, yellow teeth. Mark quickly looks away, the joy of getting Tyong making him forget momentarily how creepy he finds Auntie Man Yeo.
“Did you thank your Auntie, Mark?”
Mark starts, standing up and bowing at a 90-degree angle, rushing out a 'thank you' in the process. His mother smiles and ruffles his hair, telling them both that dinner is ready. Auntie Man Yeo says nothing else, and Mark can’t say anything, too awestruck by his newfound friend. He doesn’t let go of Tyong once, waving goodbye to Auntie Man Yeo with one hand and clutching tightly onto Tyong with the other. He’s still holding onto Tyong as he hops out the car and gets ready for bed.
“You really like the doll Auntie Man Yeo gave you huh?” Mark’s dad comments as he tucks Mark in.
“Yeah! Tyong looks so cool!” Mark hugs the doll tighter to him, not minding the cold, hard porcelain pressing against his skin.
His dad just laughs and kisses his cheek goodnight, leaving Mark in the care of Tyong.
It’s not long before the preschool’s monthly show and tell rolls around, and Mark knows exactly what he’s showing and telling. He’s bursting with pride and joy, tiny hands clasped tightly on the cardboard box, filled to the brim with loose newspaper, all to protect his precious Tyong. His dad even drove him to school today, just so Tyong would be safer. Mark practically skips from his car to the classroom, safely storing his box in his bag cubby until show and tell comes around. He’s practically vibrating on the floor, barely paying attention to the other kid’s presentations as he thinks of all the wonderful things he’s going to talk about. After what seems like ages to Mark, it’s finally his turn! He babbles away, proudly holding Tyong for the world to see. He gushes on about how clean and pristine Tyong always is, and how he’s so cool and pretty. Polite applause follows and Mark sits back down, cheeks flushed red from exertion and excitement. He suddenly feels a sharp jab on his ribs and whips his head around. Donghyuck points to the doll.
“Does it really not get dirty?”
“Yeah! Whenever I play with Tyong in my backyard, I get dirt everywhere, but it never gets on Tyong! And if I’m eating dinner and spill some food, it never gets on him, he’s awesome like that.” Mark happily replies, missing the way Donghyuck’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.
After show and tell, Mark rushes to the cardboard box to safely store Tyong. He stares up at the whiteboard, lessons going in one ear and out the other as he thinks about all the fun things he’s going to do with Tyong when he gets home. Mark doesn’t believe that it’s only lunchtime, could this day get any slower? He goes to the bathroom to wash his hands like a good boy, 20 seconds with a lot of soap, just like his mom taught him. When he walks back, he hears the classroom before he sees it, hoards of children laughing and giggling madly. Stepping up on his tippy toes and peeking through the window, he sees everyone clustered and hunched over in a big crowd. Not wanting to miss out on the fun, he rushes back into the classroom. As soon as he enters, the kids closest to him look up and stop laughing. Surprise, and something else, is plastered all over their faces. Mark wonders just what is going on. As he draws closer, the kids immediately scramble out of his way and stand well off to the side, until he finally gets to the centre.
It’s Donghyuck, hunched over Tyong. With a black sharpie in his hand. Mark starts to feel his head ache, blood rushing to his ears.
“Markie! Check it out! I wanted to see if you were right, if Tyong really can’t get dirty.” Donghyuck shoves Tyong in Mark’s face, an ear-splitting grin stretched over his face. He looks as pleased as a cat who’s just caught and killed a mouse.
Mark finally focuses his eyes on Tyong's face, and sees a big, haphazardly drawn on moustache. Donghyuck starts to laugh, almost doubling over, harsh cackles ringing all around the classroom.
“Oh My God, you should see your face!”
Mark doesn’t realise what he’s done until he hears a giant chorus of loud gasps. He blinks, and sees Donghyuck crumpled on the ground, a bright red handprint blooming all over the right side of his face, and angry tears streaming down his cheeks. Donghyuck launches himself at Mark’s stomach, and a chorus of “Fight!”s and “Stop!”s clamours around them until their teachers rush in and forcibly wrench them away from each other.
Mark looks at his reflection in the glass door. Bruises and red marks dot his soft face, but no blood. He looks at the reflection of his mom, sitting next to him. Her lips are pressed together in a very thin line, and she looks back at Mark’s reflection with nothing but disappointment. Mark shrinks further down into the cold, plastic chair outside the principal’s office. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens to reveal an equally dishevelled Donghyuck, indignation written all over his pudgy face. Both of their mothers stiffly greet each other. The principal walks out and heaves a great sigh.
“I hope the both of you know that what you did today was unacceptable.” The principal turns a stern frown to the pair. “Donghyuck, you know better than to touch and mess with what is not yours, especially without permission. And Mark. Violence is never the answer.” She then looks up to address the mothers.
“I expect a short, written reflection from the both of them about their actions by tomorrow.” The mothers both nod in return and Mark's grip on his mom’s coat gets tighter. The principal eyes both of them before coughing.
“I think an apology from the both of you is in order for now.”
Mark feels a firm hand and stern eyes on his back. He reluctantly walks forward towards Donghyuck, who’s staring at Mark with a look he doesn’t understand, but he knows he doesn’t like.
“I’m sorry Donghyuck. I shouldn’t have hit you today.” Mark hangs his head in shame after the apology.
“Now, Donghyuck, say you’re sorry too.” Donghyuck’s mother lays a hand on his mop of brown hair.
Mark watches as Donghyuck’s mouth falls, his face scrunching up like he’s just swallowed a glass of lemon juice.
“I don’t wanna apologise now because I’m tired! My face still hurts!” He wails, burying his face in his mother’s pant leg, sniffling loudly.
Donghyuck’s mother immediately scoops him up in her arms.
“I’m really sorry about this, but he has been really hurt by this whole situation. Can he apologise tomorrow?”
Before Mark can say anything, his mother replies, hand gripping his shoulder.
“We totally understand, we’d be fine with an apology tomorrow, right Markie?” She looks down expectantly. Mark bites down on the inside of his cheek and just nods silently.
The gloomy mood continues to hover around Mark, his own personal little storm cloud. It only gets worse as he fidgets on his seat at the kitchen table. His mom and dad sit across from him, watching him intently. He puts his pencil down and swings his little legs on the chair, anxious for this whole ordeal to be over. His parents take the finished reflection and read through it. Mark clenches and unclenches his tiny fists as his parents look over his writing.
“Good reflection kiddo, hopefully, Donghyuck can give you that apology tomorrow and you two can go back to being best friends.” Mark’s dad nods at him over the piece of paper.
“….I don’t know if I want to keep being friends with him anymore…”
His mother’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “What! Markie, I know you’re extremely hurt that he treated Tyong like that, but he’ll learn from this, he won’t do it again.”
Mark picks at his fingers, not daring to look at his parents.
“I don’t know…”
His father chimes in. “Friendship is a two-way street Mark. You two are gonna have to talk things out if you want to keep being friends.”
Mark dejectedly nods, and his parents dismiss him, getting ready to make dinner. Mark runs to his bedroom, where he immediately dives into his bed, buries his head in his pillows and screams. It’s not fair! Mark has made it clear hundreds of times that he doesn’t like it when Donghyuck shoves him around, or wants to copy his homework, or takes his stuff without asking. His dad says friendship is a two-way street, but Mark thinks it’s a long, winding path, filled with dead trees and scary crows, and he sniffles into his pillow. Through teary eyes, he wipes the inky moustache off his Tyong doll, and furiously clutches it to his chest, ignoring the flash of icy coldness.
“I don’t want to be friends with Donghyuck! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” He sobs. “I wish he would just disappear!”
He ends the night by silently crying over his precious Tyong, falling into a restless, dreamless sleep.
Mark wakes up the next day groggy as anything. He’s pleasantly sleepy for a few minutes before yesterday’s memories come flooding in and he groans, pulling his blankets up over his head. He doesn’t get up until his mom yells his name, and even then he’s slower than usual at getting ready. He really doesn’t want to go to school today and deal with Donghyuck.
It’s with a cautious air that he steps into the classroom, eyes scanning the room for telltale curly brown hair and tanned skin. Mark slowly sits down at his desk, looking all around him to make sure no swift hands are anywhere near his chair. He heaves out a breath as he sits on the chair, and forces himself to concentrate on what the teacher is writing up on the whiteboard.
The day rolls by suspiciously peaceful. It takes Mark a while, but it finally sinks in that Donghyuck isn’t in class today, no shrill shout of ‘here’ during roll call, desk empty and still. Mark can hardly believe his luck! He lets his shoulders relax, only realising how tense he was after he slouches down in his chair. It only gets better from there, he finds. P.E class arrives and they’re playing soccer again. But this time, Jeno, chosen captain of the team, looks directly at Mark.
“Mark, what role do you wanna be?”
Mark’s taken aback by the question. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone ask him what he wants to be, or to be more specific, he doesn't think Donghyuck ever asked him, always assigning roles to everyone straight off the bat. He stammers a bit before giving his answer.
“I want to try out centre forward..”
Jeno shrugs and nods, “Ok, sure man.” He continues with the rest of the team members, but Mark is to busy whooping internally. Finally! His chance to be forward centre. He doesn’t think this day could get any better!
It’s with a light heart and a spring in his step that he bounds through the doors of his house. He can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun at school and can’t wait to tell Tyong and his parents all about it. His mom waves to him from the home computer and he barrels straight into her.
“Woah, take it easy sport. What’s gotten into you today? Did you finally make up with Donghyuck?”
He vigorously shakes his little head. “Nuh-uh, he wasn’t even at school today, but guess what! I got to be centre forward for soccer!” He proudly proclaims, as his mom beams and pats him on the head.
He rushes into his bedroom, ready to tell Tyong all about his day. He flips over the covers of his bed, but only sees his blue mattress protector and pillows. He frowns. Mark could’ve sworn that he left Tyong right on his bed. He climbs all over his bed, searching every nook and cranny, before frantically extending his search to his entire bedroom. His heart hammers in his chest, and he can feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. There’s no way he could’ve lost Tyong. There’s no way Tyong left this room. He keeps repeating this to himself as he rakes over the entire room, but in the end, he ends up empty-handed. He runs out into the hallway, going through the bathroom and store cupboards, but just like his bedroom, no Tyong can be found. Mark feels like his stomach is about to drop out of his body as he runs throughout the house.
“Mom, Dad, I can’t find Tyong!” He bursts into the kitchen, tear tracks all over his pale little face. “Ever since I got back from school today, I haven’t been able to find him!”
Mark’s mother rushes to comfort the crying child and tries to dab away at the endless stream of tears and snot on her son’s face.
“Oh honey, I’m sure he’ll turn up soon, it’s not like you took him outside at all right?”
Mark is almost unintelligible from his sniffling and crying. “I checked all over the house Mommy! I can’t find him anywhere!”
Mark’s father tries his best to look at Mark while keeping an eye on the black bean sauce.
“Son, He’s definitely in this house, your mom and I haven’t touched a hair of his. We can look for him after dinner ok?”
Mark tries his best to reply, but all he musters is a loud hiccup. He wolfs down his jajangmyeon, impatiently waiting for his parents to finish eating so they can find Tyong. They quickly jump into action, combing through each and every corner of the house with Mark, little hands sifting through mountains of belongings. He turns the house upside down in his hurry to find Tyong. He’s sweating buckets by the end of it, hands shivering as pure nerves flood his body. No way. No way. This can’t be. Mark jumps up and down in frustration. He’s just as empty-handed as he was this afternoon. He defeatedly sinks onto the floor, mind racing for other possibilities. Maybe he somehow brought it to school and forgot it in the classroom? His stomach lurches at the thought of him accidentally leaving Tyong on the bus. He doesn’t even notice as his dad crouches down to scoop him up in his arms, and carries him off to get ready for bed.
He doesn’t even get the luxury of clutching at Tyong to cry about losing Tyong, so he curls up next to his tiger plushy and once again, falls into a sweaty, uneasy sleep, filled with the cawing of crows and walls and walls of dark, beady eyes staring into him from every angle.
He wakes up with a jolt, head aching and miserable, sweat pooling under his back. He feels around for his tiger plushy and starts when his fingers chink at chilly hardness. His heart jumps in his throat. He whips his head down and a bark of joy bursts from his mouth.
Tyong!
He brings the doll straight to his chest, the icy feeling immediately chasing away the groggy heat on his body.
“I missed you so much! Where were you!” He pouts. He knows he’s not gonna get an answer, but he still babbles away, telling Tyong how worried he was and how long he looked, stroking through Tyong's pale, ghostly hair. He looks adoringly at his best friend, frowning when he looks down at the doll’s white, tiny fingers. They seem to be slightly stained. All ten digits are reddish-brown at the tips, a bit like when Mark eats cherries and his fingers get all red and messy, but the red isn’t bright at all. The doll smells slightly strange too, a bit like his old, broken bike. He shrugs it off and skips to the bathroom, carefully and thoroughly washing off all of the weird red spots over Tyong’s otherwise pristine body.
Mark rises off the bed, excited for a new day. P.E is today, and that means he gets to be centre forward! He doesn’t think Donghyuck is going to show up today, seeing as he hasn't shown up for the last few days at all. Mark figures he must be really sick or something. Mark gleefully tugs his socks onto his feet and pats Tyong on the head, running out into the living room. He stops to a standstill as he sees his mom on the couch, hands tightly clenched together. Her face is white as a sheet, and Mark shivers as his mom turns her head, bloodshot watery eyes meeting his own. She runs to Mark and immediately wraps her hands tightly around her little boy. Mark just stand still, trying to get a word out as she squishes him in her arms.
“What’s going on mom?”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath before she replies, “Mark, I want you to listen very carefully to me. The school has been temporarily closed, You won’t be having classes for at least a few days. Maybe they’ll organise some online classes, or maybe they’ll… sort things out before long, but for now, make sure that you’re around either me or your dad at all times.” She wavers on those last words, hands hurriedly smoothing out the imaginary creases on Mark’s clothes.
Mark’s dark eyebrows furrow in confusion. “So no school today?”
“No Mark, you’re gonna be staying home today, no going out.”
He nods solemnly and walks back to his bedroom, a bit shaken by his mom’s strange behaviour. It doesn’t stay on his mind for long as he sees Tyong on his bed.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to school today.” He straightens the string bowtie on his frilly collar. Mark sits on the edge of the bed for a few minutes more, gazing adoringly into Tyong’s giant, black eyes. It's a shame that he won't be able to go to school and play soccer, but that doesn't matter to Mark. He can spend as much time as he wants to with Tyong. He can play with Tyong to his heart's content.
“At least we’ll be able to have as much fun as we want today! My bestest, best friend in the whole entire world.”