Un peu du vocabulaire des rues de Luc : « moron ». C’est ainsi qu’il appelle le mari de sa mère. On peut le traduire par “connard”.
As he sped through the deserted night streets, Luc worked out the finishing touches to his plan. For one it would drive his mother up the wall, for two it would get him in the cripple and the pest’s good books and for three, and this was the end result he was really looking for, it would almost definitely spell goodbye for the moron. He was gonna make that arsehole eat his tie.
Father Christmas was coming early this year…
Gabriel simply could not believe his eyes: a quad bike! He gazed at it, speechless. A brand new shiny quad bike, right there in the middle of the lawn. Luc was watching him, a faint smile on his lips.
“So, what are you waiting for?” he asked.
“Is it for me?” asked Gabriel, still not able to believe it.
“Who else would it be for, your pathetic father? Go on, climb up!”
Luc made no move to help him. Gabriel wheeled over to the quad bike and heaved himself into its seat.
“I… I’m not sure how…”
“Bloody well work it out then!”
Gabriel turned the key and the machine lurched forwards, knocking the boy off his balance and onto the ground. Luc roared with laughter. Gabriel crawled back onto the quad bike. I can do it! Like at the swimming pool. I will manage!
Wondering what on earth was making all the noise, Amélie came running out of the house. She stopped dead when she saw Gabriel on the death-machine.
“Gabriel!” she gasped. “Get down off that thing immediately!”
“Don’t be so bloody boring!” said Luc, holding her back by the arm as she tried to dash over to her son.
Agathe had come running at the noise of the quad bike too, and was looking at Gabriel with admiration. When the engine roared to life again she clapped her hands with excitement.
“Go, go , go, Gabriel!” she shouted. “You’re going to win the wheelchair race, yours is the smartest!”
Amélie was still terrified.
“Make him get down, Luc!”