A Problem

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The sun was shining. The birds were singing. And young Simon Minter had dashed away from his mother's hand.

"Hey Josh!" The blond five year old ran up to his friend, who was sitting on the park bench with his back to him.

"Hi," came the simple reply as Simon vaulted straight over the wooden seat and sat himself right next to him. His parents had told him not to run off ahead, but as soon as he'd spotted his friend the excitable youngster just couldn't help himself. He'd known Josh for about four months now and he'd never had a better friend in his whole short life. He spent nearly every Saturday with him and when he wasn't, he was usually talking about him to his parents or teachers or friends or much to their annoyance, his two older brothers.

"What you doing?" he asked in a sing song voice, swinging his legs back and forth over the edge of the seat as the smaller boy continued to stare dead ahead, his hazel eyes focussed on the open space of the park.

"Watching."

Simon gazed across the grassy area, but saw nothing that captured his interest. "Watching what?" he pestered.

The boy shrugged. "Everything," he simply said, his too large a t-shirt hanging loosely over his small frame.

"Huh," Simon said, trying to work out what that meant. How could Josh be watching everything? And more importantly, why was he watching everything instead of playing. "Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly having a strong sense that there was something the matter.

"Yep," Josh replied shortly, nodding his head. "My parents are getting divorced," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Simon's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Oh...that means they're not married any more, doesn't it?"

"Mhmm."

"Are you sad?" He didn't look sad. There was a girl in his class at school who's parents had also divorced and she'd cried so much one day that she was allowed to go home. Plus she got a lollipop from the teacher.

"I dunno. Maybe." Josh looked slightly confused himself as to what he was feeling, shaking his head indecisively. "Maybe not."

It was only as he shook his head, that Simon suddenly caught a glimpse of the other side of the boy's face, that had been hidden so far. "What happened to your face?" he asked in shock, referring to the dark purple and yellow bruising around the boy's right eye and cheek, as well as the small, swollen cut just under his eyelid.

Josh tensed up immediately, turning his head even further away, so all Simon could see was the back of his head. "I tripped and fell down the stairs," he answered tersely.

"How'd you do that?"

"I'm clumsy."

"No you're not."

"Yes," Josh whispered. "I am."

Simon frowned. He knew even at five years old when his friend was lying to him. What he couldn't understand back then was why he would be lying to him. If Simon ever hurt himself he would tell an adult straight away. That was what you were meant to do, so they could put a plaster on it or that special stinging cream or rub it better until the pain went away. Better still, there was a good chance of sweets or chocolate.

Josh clearly didn't want to talk about it though and Simon was all too willing to let his curiosity go for now. He had something really exciting to tell the other boy anyway. "I have a question for you," he said, nudging his friend's shoulder.

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