The Broken Promises

by adrian.dakota

Yes, I didn’t write another Lawrence Series for ages… (I renamed it, by the way, so get used to the new name)… so I decided to post up the bit I wrote after the last post, but I didn’t get around to releasing.

Part Five

“That did not just happen.”
Of course it didn’t. But Lawrence wasn’t one to deny it.
“Sorry, Evan,” he said, “but that’s all. Although I would have preferred it to be much more interesting, I expected such a reaction from the audience.”
“So what? Nobody turned up?”
“Yep,” said Lawrence, sinking into a soft armchair.
“That was sad then,” said Evan, still standing. “I thought that something much more intriguing might happen.”
“Like what?”
“Like people might actually turn up, if you catch my drift.”
Lawrence snorted. “Haha.”
Ethan entered the room, looking disgruntled.
“What happened?” asked Evan, turning around to look at his brother.
“I’ve been with you long enough to know when you’re depressed, Ethan –”
“It’s him!” said Ethan loudly. “He’s so irritating; I want to kill him in one single shot!”
“Oh, is that it?” asked Evan sceptically. “I thought it might have involved something to do with… well… you know…”
Ethan shot him a dirty look.
“Never mind.”
Lawrence was confused; however, he knew better than ask.
The three of them remained in a long silence.
“I suppose I’d better get going,” said Lawrence finally, slipping easily out of the squashy chair and disappearing behind the door. There wasn’t any emotion, any flicker of life at all on his face.
Evan and Ethan could only guess what he was thinking.


Lawrence picked up the receiver, dialling in a single number. The telephone beeped one, then twice, then thrice…
“Hello, how may we help you?”
Yes, this was the voice of the school receptionist; he had called the right number then. Lawrence sighed as he entered in a command silently into the computer.
“Hi, it’s about my son, Lawrence,” he said, and the computer automatically modified the voice into a worried middle-aged lady. “We’ve had to move again, so I was wondering if I could withdraw my child from school as we move to the States… I’m sure you don’t object, do you?”
Years before, Lawrence would have shed a tear at the perfect flattery, the worried tone, and the sheer drama of the entire act… but having to transfer every other month really takes the entertainment out of this bit. The bit where he had to talk to the principal of the school.
“Oh, no, that’s fine,” said the female receptionist kindly. “No, no, we quite understand the situation… may I have your child’s name and form?”
Lawrence told her.
“Oh, okay… I see… right… could you please wait for a moment?”
There was some scuffling across the phone line, followed by another voice, this time a much deeper male’s, that came on.
“I understand that you’re Lawrence’s mother?”
“Yes, that’s quite right.”
“Well… are you aware of everything that’s happened around him?”
Lawrence lowered his voice slightly. “Yes… you see, that’s one of the reasons why I’m taking him with me to the US… I don’t want him to get hurt.”
There was another pause, followed by what seemed like scribbling at the school. “Yes, that should be fine then, I suppose…”
“Oh, and as an added request,” said Lawrence, faking uncertainty… “Could I have a week’s worth of sick leave for my child before the request for withdrawal gets approved? I don’t really want him going to school… not like he is now…”
“That should be all right. Thank you for calling.”
Lawrence hung up, slamming the receiver back into its port. His fingers clenched on the plastic.
Another school left.
Another abandonment of relationships. After that he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t leave them… that he wouldn’t give up on his new friends anymore. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t…
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he lifted his head to survey the monitor banks again.
When will it be the last time…?

Part Seven