Bum: Mardy

By lunchtime, the mard had reached critical mass. He refused to play football because “the grass was the wrong shade of green.” He sat alone on the damp bench, watching everyone else laugh, kick, trip, and get back up again.

And for once, Leo didn’t mind the name at all. mardy bum

“Stop it,” he grumbled, arms crossed so tightly his elbows nearly touched. By lunchtime, the mard had reached critical mass