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“Ah, William!” exclaimed his father. “Come, eat some… oh.”
In despair he watched his son do what he almost always did with food: stuff it in his pockets. His mother coughed discreetly into her sleeve and murmured about needing to have him tested. Tested for what? thought William. He had always done well in school. He loved the surprised looks on his teachers’ faces when they realized the class clown who never seemed to care about anything educational consistently received the highest scores in the class.
His mother opened her mouth, clearly about to say something along the lines of a polite version of: “Take your breakfast out of your pockets and eat like a normal person does because you look like a slob” but he got up, damp, sagging pockets and all, kissed his parents goodbye and went out to the yard to, first, go fish, and then do what was his greatest pleasure every day: spy.