Marcel's mental resilience was truly impressive. Despite the stunned gazes around the table and the atmosphere where Mr. Cox seemed ready to chop him up, Marcel ate contentedly, fully absorbed in his meal.
I was so tempted that I followed his lead, taking bites of the dishes he was eating. After a few times, Marcel shot me a look, like a cat with its fur bristled.
When the meal was over, our families had to exchange pleasantries at the restaurant entrance before heading home. But Marcel didn't linger for a second. He hopped onto his motorcycle and disappeared in a blur, the roar of the engine echoing. His speed was so fast that his figure was barely visible in no time.
Even my dad couldn't watch any longer and said, "Mr. Cox, this kid is a bit willful!"
Mr. Cox's face was red with embarrassment, and he sighed heavily. "I beat him eight times a day, but he doesn't listen."
My dad sympathized for a moment and then turned to Dylan. "Ellie is on vacation and has nothing to do. If you are free, I'll let Ellie come over to play with you."
"I'd be happy to." Dylan smiled kindly at me.
I smiled and nodded, but my thoughts were still on that rebellious figure.