"I'm just here to pick up my little brother, that's all," I say, not looking him in the eye because I know he would see the hurt and worry.
"Okay well, before I let you leave with him, you need to answer this question: Why does Preston and you have marks and bruises on your arms and legs?" the green-eyed-boy asks.
I'm pretty sure he's not the teacher. He looks too young to be a teacher and he's dress like me - black skinny jeans, holey t-shirt, also an beanie. If he is, I would like to know where he got his teaching degree.
"Um.. well, we like to play a lot of sports, you see and some times we get ruffed-up," I answer, making it believable.
"Well then, sorry about the randomness. Preston come here," He yells for my baby brother who is only four at the moment.
"Don't worry about it, bye now," I reply, taking Preston's tiny hand and slipping out the door, having the feeling the boy with bright-green-eyes is watching.
"How was your day?" I question the little boy, with the big grin," You seem extra happy today."
"I met this girl. She's pretty," he giggles, making his little way to a small dirt pathway, right out-side the preschool.
"Really now? Make sure to be a gentleman; no girl likes a jerk," I smile back, watching my language. Traveling on the small pathway that is forested by trees and dead bushes.
"I will. Pinky promise," He holds out his picky finger and I intertwine my picky finger with his.
"Good, now what would you want to do the rest of the day?" I question him, knowing it's only 12:00pm. Opening the rusty-old-shed-door to our second home.
"Fireworks!" he jumps up and down, after he throws his backpack down on the yoga mat, we took from our now dead mother, to sleep on.
"Fine, fine. To the firework store we go," I declare, heading out the shed once more.