Your Bloody Fool

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock...

Okay, Riley, this is not the first visit to the principal’s office, nor it’ll be the last one, just breathe. Somehow the wristwatch seemed to tighten it’s grip around my wrist. I knew I was late, I knew I had a meeting with some super important band who’s name I couldn’t remember even if I tried. I knew I was supposed to drive the diva sitting beside me to the soccer practice and I fucking knew I was supposed to be at Ralph’s violin thing.

Cut me some fucking slack.

„She’s bloody pissed, isn’t she...” I whispered, tilting my head back and resting it against the wall.

„Yep,” Rosie popped the ‘p’. Would it kill her to at least fake her regret?

„Why did you do it?” I questioned, looking down at her dirty leather jacket. Her back was covered in sand, leaving no questions of what exactly got her a one-way ticket to the principal’s office.

„They were picking on Ralph,” She replied, finally raising her head so her blues would narrow on me, „You know I hate when they make fun of him.”

Of course. Ralph. The slightly odd musical prodigy nobody could quite understand around this goddamned school. I swear to God I raised both my kids the same way, but they turned out completely different. For a fair amount of time Ralph’s father’s ex-wife, the one who’s actually Ralph’s sister strongly believed that my son is autistic. She even slipped her assumption oh-so gracefully at some interview a couple years ago. What did she gain by it besides a black eye, I’m still not quite sure, but hey- whatever floats her boat. She had never been my favorite person, so denigrating her brother’s name wasn’t something I was too surprised about... I did punch her square in the nose after, but she understood why I did what I did. I loved my kids to the moon and back and I wasn’t afraid to be imprisoned because someone decided to hurt either of them. And by the way – Ralph wasn’t and isn’t autistic. He’s a simple introvert who has trouble making friends, which makes him an enormous bulls-eye for those painful darts of bullies, which, apparently, nobody does anything about except for my ten year old daughter.

„They?” I cocked an eyebrow, „As in... plural? You punched a bunch of guys?”

She gave me a weak nod, her eyes drifting to the side, „Well... technically there was a girl too...” I couldn’t bare, but roll my eyes, „Hey, don’t you roll your eyes on me,” She hissed irritated, making me raise my eyebrows, „Dad said if anyone hurts us, we can punch them right in the kisser.”

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. She really shouldn’t be listening to Brian. Although it made me sort of proud to see Rosie standing up for Ralph, but that was three principal visits ago for Christ sake! I mean... Bloody hell. „If dad’s so smart, next time he’ll come and deal with this crap.”

Rosie gave me the stink eye.

„What?”

„Mom,” She took a deep breath, before exhaling heavily and continuing with her super important statement, „dad’s in Bali... with Nikki,” She explained, like I was the retarded one here. Her dark eyebrows pulled together in a frown. Oh right... Dad’s new impolitely expensive escort.

„Well then it means dad’s gonna have to cut his whore-cation short and come bust your ass out of the pokey if you keep it up.” I crossed my arms over my chest, realizing by now there’s no way I’ll make it to see Ralph’s gig, neither will I make it to the meeting.

She looked at me for quite the moment with a question mirroring in her deep blues, „What’s a ... who-whore...cation...?”

Well... Shit. But really... She did in fact ask a good question. What was a whorecation? It was a bloody word I just made up to describe daddy’s monthly vocation to some expensive place with an even more expensive cunt by his side. Could we lay down this little definition to a ten year old? Sure. „Ask your dad. Now, can we get this roller-coaster of corruption moving? Mom’s have to be places...”

„How do you type ‘whorecation’?” She asked and my eyes immediately dropped to her iPhone. Ten year old with an iPhone? Yeah, not my prerogative... „Like this?”

Rosie raised the phone to my eye level, forcing me to squint at the screen, „No. You spelled ‘whore’ wrong. It’s w-h-o-r-e, not w-h-o-u-a-r –„

„Miss Clarke!” That voice scared the bejesus out of me. „In my office. Now!” She shouted and just moments later the door closed after her with a loud thud and the principal had disappeared once again.

„Bloody hell...” I whispered, rolling down my sleeves and buttoning my shirt up so no piece of ink would stick out too much. Somehow I got the vibe from principal Rodriguez that she’s not the type of person who would particularly ‘dig’ mom’s with pink hair and tattoo’s all over their bodies.

„Good luck!” Rosie shot me a fake smile, returning to her phone.

That little fucking monster. I bet she only received a ‘don’t do it again, Rosie Haner’ from the stuck up cunt, while I’m going to get it like I’m the one who’s committed some heinous crime against the humanity. Me!

With a deep breath I entered the principal’s office. Clara Rodriguez was a women in her late forties, a one who seemed like she have to empty good four bottles of red wine to decide to touch herself, not speaking about letting a man stick his little friend in her tight little—

„Were you teaching your child how to spell ‘whore’?” Oh so she heard that? Oops? „Or maybe I’m hearing things, miss Clarke?”

Okay, Riley, this is the time when we can stand up for ourselves. How about we try that? „If you’re under the false assumption that kids her age don’t curse, I’m really sorry for you. I at least make sure her spelling’s right.” I explained as I took the seat which I had gotten almost too familiar with throughout these visits.

I kid you not, her eyebrows went way higher than I thought it was possible and her lips parted as she kept gawking at me. „Excuse me, miss Clarke, what did you say?”

Fuck, this is bad. „Nothing. I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

Her eyes narrowed on me as she pursed her thin lips, before she spoke, „It’s two thirty... Anyhow let’s talk this through,” Principal’s eyes dropped to a considerable size folder as she lazily paged it through. That bigass folder is Rosie’s record? You have to be shitting me... „This has been Rosie’s seventh violation. Seventh, miss Clarke. We can’t continue to allow behavior as such.”

„So what’s the plan this time? Because counseling sure as hell didn’t do anything.”

“The plan here is clear,” She said, resting her forearms on the dark desk as her dark eyes pierced in to the imaginative remainders of my non-existent soul. “We’re going to expel Rosie.”

For a moment I just sat there. Processing what I heard. “Expel? For what? For standing up to those kids who bully her brother?”

“Maybe, if your son can’t integrate in the society, you should think about other alternatives.” And again with calling my son retarded, that’s it. I’m not going to kiss her fucking ass any longer.

“You know, thanks for the heads up,” I said as I slowly got up from the uncomfortable chair, “But I’m afraid I have to decline and tell you to go fuck yourself and your whole bully-like fucking society.”

She couldn’t manage to usher a word as I was already out of her office. “Bloody cunt…” I hissed, shoving my hand in the pocket of my jacket to fish out the blue pack of Camel cigarettes.

“What happened?” Rosie looked at me with a deep crease between her eyebrows.

“They expelled you.” I said as I started walking down the long hallway, Rosie making a small run so she’d catch up with me.

“Expelled? What does that mean?”

“It means you’re going to have quite the free time before daddy finds you a school to bribe so they take you in, knowing it’s the middle of the bloody semester.”

“Wait,” She suddenly came to an abrupt stop, “You mean I’m not going to this school anymore?”

“Nope,” I replied, pulling a cigarette out of the pack I was holding just as I pushed open the double door.

“What about Ralph? We can’t leave him all alone here!” She protested.

“After the encounter I doubt they’ll let Ralph stay here,” I explained as I lit up the cigarette and made a small jog down the steps.

“Mom… You know what?” She rushed up to me just as I blew out the cloud of smoke, heading towards the black Bentley.

“What?” I asked whilst taking a drag.

“How about we both start fresh in Emma’s school?” I nearly choked on the smoke when she laid down this genius proposition. A private school which costs forty grand for one head over the year? Yeah, because I absolutely have the money with the label heading straight down the drain lately. Eighty fucking thousand dollars… I couldn’t afford it, knowing I had to pay for all the tours of the bands under the label.

“Rosie… You know uncle Matt loves auntie Saint very, very much that’s why Emily goes to that school. Daddy and mommy don’t quite get along, so…” I took the last couple of inhales from the cigarette as I walked around to the driver’s side, unlocking the car, before I kicked the cigarette bud away and got in.

“But dad loves me… and Ralph,” She insisted as she closed the door after herself, typing something on her phone, “So dad will pay. He has no choice. Look, he’s calling right now… Yeah, hi daddy, me and mom have a plan,” My eyes grew wide when I realized she used ‘me and mom’. That clearly wasn’t the best approach if she wanted to get something from him. “It’s about switching schools… Y-yeah, sure,” Suddenly her hand was stretched in front of my face, “He wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” I pointed my index finger towards my chest. Why on earth would he want to talk to me? Rosie simply nodded, grabbing the keys from me and putting them in the ignition, before she turned on the stereo and Red’s Breathe Into Me taking over the car.

Very super unwillingly I took the phone and pressed it to my ear. “Heeeey, how’s your vocation going?” With the corner of my eye I saw Rosie rolling her eyes. Oh shut up.

“It’s fine,” He sounded almost too happy. I could imagine him sipping on some Pina Collada’s and grinning foolishly in his drink. “What’s that I’m hearing about switching schools?”

“She just wants to go to the same school Emily’s going I guess…” Man I suck at lying.

“So, it has absolutely nothing to do with her being expelled,” He chuckled. Chuckled. Was he sick or something? Or drunk? Or maybe both? And don’t forget the dusting consisting of a thick layer of cocaine.

“Not that I know of,” Yeah, play the fool, Clarke, you’re doing such a great job.

“Yeah, the principal must’ve messed me up with some other Brian Haner who’s the father of some Rosie. Happens all the time.” He replied sarcastically. “Look, Bali didn’t turn out the way I hoped so I’m back home tomorrow, how about some dinner? We could discuss everything over your home-cooked Mac and Cheese.”

“You want to come over?” Did he forget I didn’t wish to see his bloody face? And did he forget I’m not fucking cooking for him? Like ever?

“We have a certain thing to discuss, or am I mistaking something?”

“Fine. Tomorrow six PM. Don’t be late.” I shook my head at myself right after I had given the phone back to Rosie. “Rose, be a dear and look up the cheapest Chinese takeaways.”

Notes

So... because practically every one of you demanded for a sequel - here it is. I figured I haven't really seen a story here about raising a kid or two where kids are the central piece of the story and not some side characters so here you go. I tend to include Rosie and Ralph in the story as much as I can, 'cause that teen romance and all the lovey dovey stuff really isn't for me.

I hope you enjoyed it! :)