Gerry Peary shook his head, sitting on the bed and ignoring Alan Morgan.
"Just make something simple and bring it over."
Alan Morgan spoke, took off his shoes, and climbed onto Gerry's bed.
"Come, I'll continue teaching you to recognize words."
Gerry was already seven, but he had never been to school. He was now preparing to catch up on what he had missed.
"No."
Gerry immediately refused, throwing the book Alan handed him directly onto the floor.
"I want Mom to teach me."
Alan glanced at him and then at the book on the floor.
"Get off the bed! Pick it up!"
He furrowed his brows tightly, and his tone was very serious. The brief five words echoed continuously in the pale ward.
Gerry sat there with his head down, also realizing his mistake.
He pursed his lips slightly, and his small hands clenched tightly.
"Immediately!"
Alan raised his voice, and upon hearing it, Gerry's small shoulders trembled.
"Oh, why are you being harsh to a child? I'll pick it up."
