Chapter 508 - 502: Heartless
"Um..." Elmer Grant looked at Dylan Grant. "Dylan, doesn’t Dorothy have one?"
Dylan’s little face turned a rare shade of red. "Of course not. That’s why she’s a girl, and we’re boys."
Dorothy Ellsworth poked the clay figure, knocking the piece off. Elmer got anxious. "Dorothy, why’d you knock it off?"
She waved her hand magnanimously. "It’s fine. I’ll just stick another one on."
So, Dorothy rolled a long strip of clay and stuck it between the figure’s legs. It was as long as the figure’s legs.
"It’s not that long!" Elmer was going crazy.
He pulled Dorothy’s off and fashioned a tiny little one to replace it.
Dorothy was confused. "Elmer, is your pee-pee place really that short?"
"..."
Elmer was too embarrassed to answer. He stood up and huffed, "Of course not! If you don’t believe me, I’ll pull down my pants and show you!"
Dylan shot him a look. "Go back to your room for your nap."
Elmer left.
"Dorothy, let’s go wash our hands."
Dorothy answered sweetly, "Okay. But Dylan, I got mud all over myself."
"Then I’ll walk you home. You can change your clothes. We still have class this afternoon."
"Mhm."
The two of them went back to the Ellsworth Residence together and into the bathroom. Dorothy was half a head shorter than Dylan, and even though she was a few months older than him, she was clearly at a height disadvantage.
So Dylan hugged her waist from behind to help her reach the faucet.
Dorothy washed her hands, then took off her top and skirt. Standing in her little panties, bare-chested, she grabbed a set of clothes and said as she dressed, "Dylan, my mommy says I’m not allowed to wear a skirt on the swings. She says my body is structured differently from yours. Is it because you guys have that long thingy and I don’t?"
Dylan replied in all seriousness, "It’s good that your mom doesn’t want you to wear a skirt on the swings. Think about it. When you’re on the swings in a skirt, your skirt will fly up, and then... you’ll be exposed."
"What’s ’exposed’?"
"It means..." He scratched his head. "It means your panties should only be seen by me, not by anyone else. If other people see them, that’s being exposed. Remember, Dorothy, you absolutely can’t let that happen."
"What about my daddy and mommy?"
"It’s okay now, but not when you’re older. Especially not your daddy."
Dorothy didn’t understand. "Why? He’s my real daddy."
"Because when we grow up, only I’ll be allowed to look. I’m going to marry you when I grow up."
Dorothy nodded. "Dylan, I’m so curious. Can you let me see your... that...?"
Dylan’s face instantly turned beet red. He frowned, uncomfortable. "Do you really want to see it?"
Dorothy’s eyes sparkled. "I’ll show you mine too, okay? We’re going to get married and have babies when we grow up anyway."
"Dorothy, we’re too little. How about we wait until we’re older?"
"But I’m curious, Dylan."
Seeing that he wasn’t budging, Dorothy just grabbed his hand and shook it. "Dylan... if you don’t let me see, I’ll just go look at Elmer’s..."
Dylan looked at her, blinking her innocent little eyes, and his heart melted instantly. The thought of her going to see his brother’s made him relent. "Okay... fine..."
Dorothy was thrilled. She pulled him into her bedroom and shut the door.
’What a scene...’
Dorothy stared at him, full of anticipation. Dylan was already much more mature than other kids his age and understood more. He was completely uncomfortable, feeling like he was about to face a firing squad.
In the end, to satisfy her curiosity, he steeled himself and pulled down his pants.
Dorothy moved closer and even reached out and touched it. Dylan’s whole body tensed up. It was an indescribably weird feeling.
"So that’s what it is. It’s so ugly..."
’So ugly...’ Those two words spun around in Dylan’s head. Instantly, he yanked up his pants, his face burning. He snorted. "Then let me see yours, okay?"
Dorothy became shy. "Wait until I grow up and become your pretty bride, then you can look."
"I lost out again."
"..."
"I’m going home for my nap. You should take one too. We still have class this afternoon. We had a test yesterday, so I think they’ll announce the scores this afternoon."
"Okay."
When class started that afternoon, the old professor was indeed holding the test papers from the day before.
He sat on the edge of his desk, looking at the papers in his hand without a word.
"Professor, how did we do on yesterday’s test?"
The old professor glanced at Elmer. "You want to know?"
"Of course! Why else would I ask?"
The old professor suddenly laughed. "Young Elmer, if you and your brother weren’t twins, I’d never believe you were related. How can the difference be so huge? You have the same parents, yet your brother gets a hundred in math, and you get a one. Your brother gets a hundred in language arts, you get a ten. Your brother gets a ninety-eight in English, and you? A zero. Tell me, how on earth did you answer these questions? Do you even have ears to listen with when I’m teaching?"
Elmer fiddled with his fingers and said lazily, "I’m not interested in studying."
The old professor nodded wearily. "I know you’re not interested in studying, Elmer. But for the three-hundred-character essay on ’My Family’ at the end of the language arts test, couldn’t you have shown a little creativity?"
"I thought what I wrote was pretty good. A family introduction is simple. ’Dad, Mom, me, and my brother. That’s it.’"
"You and Dylan are brothers, so why did your brother write such a good, comprehensive introduction to his family, while you just listed a few people? Ugh, you’re going to be the death of me."
"Don’t be mad, Professor. Who’s going to be happy if you get so angry you die?"
"..."
"Professor, what about my scores?" Dorothy raised her hand.
The old professor put down Elmer’s paper and looked at hers.
"Yours are a bit better than Elmer’s, but not by much." He looked at the paper and then said, "Language Arts: 28. Math: 18. English: 8."
Elmer burst out laughing. "Haha, a 28, an 18, and an 8! That’s so lame!"
Dorothy glared at him. "Are your scores any better, Mr. Zero, One, and Ten?"
Elmer immediately stopped laughing.
"Alright, I’ve already read Dylan’s scores. First place undoubtedly goes to him. Second place is Dorothy, and third place is Elmer. What did we say before the test? Whoever comes in last has to come up and sing a song for everyone."
Elmer dawdled on his way to the front. "Professor, my singing is actually really bad, and I can’t remember lyrics. Singing is Dorothy’s strong suit."
"Well, who’s the one who came in last?"
"That’s only because our class is too small. There are only three of us. If I were in any other preschool, I’d at least be second to last!"
"..." The old professor blew on his mustache. "Just sing. After you’re done, we’ll continue the lesson."
"Fine, I’ll reluctantly sing a song then."
He took a deep breath, gave a few dry coughs, and then began to sing, "The endless prairie is where the but-tercups bloom, every night the ponies run all over the room! What kind of girl is the sweetest little thing, what kind of but-tercup has the prettiest spring? From across the road walks a pretty little miss... La la la la..."
The old professor waved his hand. "That’s enough. Go sit back down. If you keep singing, all your ’la la’-ing is going to make me dizzy."
Elmer gave an embarrassed smile. "Actually, Professor, I ran out of lyrics and couldn’t make up any more, so I just had to go ’la la la la’."
"..."
Nicholas Ainsworth noticed that Jean Grant had changed. Some changes were obvious at a glance.
For example, she hardly called him anymore. Before, she would call at least a few times a day; now, she basically wouldn’t call even once. When he came home, she couldn’t be bothered to speak, looking gloomy and sullen.
When he came home from work that afternoon, he walked into the bedroom and saw her standing by the window. She was leaning there, seemingly looking at the sky, unusually quiet. It wasn’t her style at all.
"What’s wrong with you? Depressed? Or just going stir-crazy?"
Jean Grant turned around. "Being cooped up at home all day, even someone who isn’t depressed would become depressed."
"Then go out for a walk. Chat with your friends."
Jean smiled bitterly. "Do I have any friends?"
Nicholas sat on the sofa, his eyes half-closed. "You can’t be bothered to talk to anyone these days, so who would be friends with you? You should go out more and meet new people."
A strange smile played on Jean’s lips. She said, "I think the woman your father found is truly disgusting. Every morning, they feed each other mouth-to-mouth. They’re inseparable, attached at the hip. I’ve noticed they barely ever leave the house. Are they really so in love?"
Nicholas couldn’t be bothered to answer. "That’s what you call true love."
Jean shot back, "Is it?"
Nicholas didn’t say anything more. He closed his eyes as if he had fallen asleep.
They were like polite strangers now, but heaven knew how much Jean resented him from the bottom of her heart. She was taking her medicine with every meal and had to go back to the hospital for a check-up in a few days.
And all of this was because of him.
After dinner, they were lying in bed together. Jean was lying on the far side. Nicholas looked at her, confused. "Why are you so far away from me? Am I a monster that’s going to eat you? Do you still want to have a child or not? If you do, then come over here."
Jean didn’t know how to explain. She didn’t want to have a falling out with Nicholas yet. It wasn’t time.
"Some other day. I’ve been taking Chinese medicine these past two days to regulate my body. The doctor said to wait until after I finish the medication to have sex. It’ll guarantee a son."
Nicholas grunted in acknowledgment. Then, after lying there for a while, he probably couldn’t sleep, so he got up, threw on some clothes, and said to her on his way out, "I’m going out for drinks with my buddies."
Jean showed no unusual reaction. "Okay. Come back early."
Her biggest abnormality was that she was too quiet. Before, she would have definitely asked if his friends were men or women, where they were drinking, if there would be women there to drink with them, and so on.
Now, it seemed her heart was completely dead, never to be revived.
Seeing this, Nicholas left without another word. The moment he was gone, Jean got out of bed, grabbed her wallet, and got into her car through the back door.