Tuesday August 26, 2014
5:03 PM Eastern Daylight Time
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
“Do you know what YOUR daughter did today?”
Well, that was one of the last things he wanted to hear, Terrence Thompson thought to himself as he stood in the entry way to the living room. His wife sat in the easy chair, a book on her lap, her arms folded over her chest. A quick glance to his daughter on the couch saw the eight year old petting Fireball in her lap. But she was surly, glaring at her mom, petting the puppy in the same matter Dr. Claw used to on Inspector Gadget.
Uh oh.
“No. What?” Terrence replied. It was all he really good say. Wendy had that glint in her eye. This was as close to filicidal as he’d ever seen her.
“YOUR daughter,” Wendy began, again that emphasis, “threw herself in front of a car today so that she would get hit and then sue the driver for a billion dollars.”
“Oh,” Terrence said, not quite sure exactly what to think of that. A thousand questions were rattling around his brain, and he grabbed the first one he could get ahold of. “Did it work?”
Judging by the way his wife bristled, Terrence had a feeling that wasn’t a very good question to ask. He took a quick glance at Theresa. She seemed uninjured, at least at first glance…
“Hardly,” Wendy finally said, her each syllable rather clipped. “The car stopped in time, thank God. When it did, she threw herself on the hood and screamed that she was dying, and that she was going to sue him, and that she hoped he knew a good lawyer.”
“Yeesh,” Terrence said, glancing over at Theresa. “You know, it’s WAY more convincing when you lie motionless and let people believe you’re either dead or knocked out.”
“Mom believed it,” Theresa countered, resentment thick in her voice. “She was all screaming and panicking. At least until stupid old Ms. Crawford snitched me out.”
“Half the street saw it happen.” Wendy said, silencing her daughter with an almost lethal glare. “The Crawfords, the O’Malley’s. The Sickles… dear god, the Sickles…”
Terrence was incredulous. “You did it in front of WITNESSES?” He ignored the glare Wendy was giving him, no doubt ticked over what she perceived as giving pointers on proper extortion techniques.
“I didn’t know they were paying attention! Besides Pollaski told me that if they didn’t have a camera on the dashboard it would work! He didn’t say anything about there not needing to be any witnesses!”
“Pollaski?” Both Terrence and Wendy spoke in unison. Wendy glared at her daughter. “Pollaski put you up to this?”
Theresa nodded, although Terrence wasn’t so sure. Pollaski did some dumb things in his life, but telling a eight year old girl to throw herself in front of a car? Besides, Terrence had been in trouble enough as a kid to know someone was taking an out when he saw it.
Wendy, of course, wasn’t so savvy. She was, however, quite fuming. “That’s it. He’s gone too far this time. It’s one thing to act like a loudmouthed buffoon half the time and antagonize EVERYONE, but this… Oooh., He is SO fired… “
“Wendy, I don’t think-” Terrence began.
“NO!” Wendy cut Terrence off with almost a shriek in her voice. “She could have been KILLED, Terry! Or paralyzed! Or put into a coma! It’s just absolutely inexcusable! I’m going to cancel his ticket tomorrow, and he can just sit here and find a NEW wrestler to take advantage of while I-“
“Are you talking about me?” A voice from the doorway interrupted Wendy, and all three turned to look to see Daniel Pollaski standing in the door way.
Wendy’s normally pale face had been flush to begin with, but she was now entering crimson, as she puffed up like a dragon. “What the-“
“Hey, Pollaski” Terrence greeted, giving an apologetic grin.
“-are YOU doing here?!”
For an answer, the rotund manager/wrestler held up a thin gold chain in the palm of his hand. “You left your watch at The Storm Shelter. I was just bringing it back.” He frowned. “Were you just talking about firing me? Because it totally sounded like you-“
“We were.” Wendy shot back, her voice hot. “You crossed the line, Daniel. I’ve been too indulgent with you for the past couple of years, and let you make a COMPLETE fool out of yourself and myself and… but to put my DAUGHTER up to a dangerous STUNT… for WHAT?!”
It was one of the few times in life Daniel Pollaski ever seemed at a loss for words, as he simply stared at his prized client, his mouth gaping open. Finally, he looked to Terrence, although the only word he could manage was a strangled-sounding “hunh?”
Terrence cleared his throat, shooting a glance at Wendy, silently telling her to let him handle this. “Alright, look, dude. Theresa threw herself on a car today and pretended that it hit her, and she said that you put her up to it.”
Pollaski flapped his hands. “Whoah! Hang on now! That’s… not entirely true. See, I… wait. Theresa pulled a Russian Crosswalk Job? Did… did it work?”
“NO!”
“Alright, alright,” Pollaski said, flapping his hands again, taking a step back from the full brunt of Wendy’s ire. “Look. Last Saturday, while you and Terrence were out to dinner and I was watching her, we got to talking about why nobody was really all that keen on going to Russia to wrestle. I started talking to her about the corruption over there, and the pedestrian scam came up. I never ONCE suggested that she actually try it!”
“Well, that makes a bit more sense,” Terrence admitted, glancing over at Wendy. Pollaski did a lot of dumb things, but in this case, the only thing he was really guilty of was underestimating the creativity and thoughtlessness of an eight year old girl.
Wendy wasn’t so mollified. “Do you honestly think ANY of that is appropriate material to discuss with a-” she was cut off by Terrence waving his hands at her.
“Look, Pollaski,” he said, heading over to usher the rotund man out of his house. “I’m sure you didn’t have any malicious intent here. Just… give let us talk things over here. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“So I’m not fired?” Pollaski asked, as he opened the front door.
“No.” said Terrence
“We’ll see”, said Wendy.
Pollaski didn’t exactly look confident over that, but stood unprotesting as Terrence shut the door in his face. Terrence turned back to the living room, where Wendy was silently glaring at Theresa, who, to her credit, actually looked ashamed for once. No… not ashamed. Theresa looked worried.
Not that he could blame her.
“So what should we do, Terrence?” Wendy asked as Terrence walked back into the room, and found a place on the couch to sit down. He hated punishing Theresa, but in this ca se, he didn’t really think they had any choice.
Wendy started first. “Theresa… what were you even thinking? You could have been hurt or killed. Someone ELSE could have been hurt or killed! Embarassing to your father and I! Not to mention that it was EXTREMELY illegal.”
This time, Theresa did have the decency to look actually ashamed. “Sorry,” she said.
Wendy paused for a second, uncertain. Evidently, she had been working herself up, expecting Theresa to argue, and suddenly she was a fighter without a battle. Thankfully, she decided to skip any more of the lecturing and go straight to the punishment.
“You’re grounded, Theresa. Off… everything. No television. No video games. No computer. No going to friends houses. For a month.”
Theresa looked defiant again, and she looked to Terrence for a vindication. Terrence put on his best stern face. She wasn’t going to be getting any hope from him- at least as far as this was concerned. “Your mom’s right, Theresa” was all he could bring himself to say.
“And…” Wendy paused. For the first time, she looked as if she was about to waver. “I think this clears up another decision we’ve had to make.”
Theresa looked confused, but Terrence grimaced. He knew what Wendy was talking about, and, again, although he wasn’t liking it, he had to admit she was right.
Wendy looked down at the floor, pausing again, and then looked back up. “Theresa… your… father and I have been talking about what to do for the upcoming school year. And I think… we think, that it’s best that you go back to a formal school.”
“Not Coldstone.” Terrence said immediately, sensing the rising panic in his daughter. No way in hell was she going back to that infernal boarding school.
“No, not Coldstone,” Wendy said, and Terrence could sense the relief in her voice. “But you were approved the other week to enroll at St. Anthony’s, and I think it’s best that we do so. It’ll be better for you to be around peers again, and to be in a bit more… structured environment.”
Again Theresa looked at her father for deliverance, and again, there was none to be had. “Your mom’s right, Theresa. It was fun homeschooling you, but the way things are… it’s a good school. St. Anthony’s is one of the best private schools in the state, from all accounts.”
All the rebellion seemed to go out of Theresa, and she sighed. “Fine,” she said, looking down at the ground. “But I LIKED you guys being my teacher…”
Wendy smiled softly. “We enjoyed teaching you too, Theresa. But… there’s just some things you don’t learn when you’re at home all the time, and your father and I are beginning more and more to realize that. So tomorrow, we’ll go in, and we’ll get you signed up. Alright?”
Theresa nodded. “Okay.”
“Alright, now, why don’t you run upstairs and get washed up, okay?” Terrence said. “I don’t think any of us feel like cooking anything tonight, so let’s just go eat at Red Lobster.”
Theresa made a face. “Why can’t we do Olive Garden, instead? I like Olive Garden better, and it’s right next door.”
“Yeah, well, you’re still being punished, remember? Now hurry it up, alright? And change your shoes. Those things are about to fall apart.”
With a huff of indignation, Theresa leapt down from the couch, and stormed towards the stairs. “And cut the attitude! You’re getting off WAY lighter than what either your mom or I would’ve gotten!”
“That’s not true,” Wendy said, looking over at Terrence. “Mother and Father wouldn’t have cared one bit what I did…”
“And Uncle Steve probably would have found it hilarious,” Terrence agreed. “But all things considered, I think a month of being grounded is about what you could hope for after a stunt like that.”
“Still though…” Wendy made a face. “Red Lobster? You and I shouldn’t be punished too, you know.”
“Yeah, well…” Terrence grinned. “Sometimes you have to take one for the team, right? Besides, they’re doing endless shrimp right now!”
“Ick…” was all Wendy could manage to say.
============
Wednesday September 3, 2014
7:41 AM Eastern Daylight Time
St. Anthony’s Private School- Third Grade
Indianapolis, Indiana
“And… that’s why I’m here.” Theresa said matter of factly.
So far, the first day of school hadn’t gone too bad. She thought she looked stupid in the blouse and skirt that served as the school uniform, but the bus ride was FAR nicer than it had been to College Park, and she was even lucky enough to have a couple girls in her class that she had known from Sunday School. She, Suannah, and Mary had all taken desks next to each other, and were chatting about how their summers had gone, with Theresa going last with the tale of why she was in St. Anthony’s.
“Wait… so… you got EXPELLED from homeschool?” Mary said, her eyebrows raising.
Theresa paused, taken aback just a bit. “Well.. yeah, I guess…”
“She got expelled from College Park too,” Mary told Susannah. “My mom told me.”
“Well, gee, THANKS…” Theresa muttered, although both girls looked more impressed than anything. “Mom and Dad just said I need more structure.”
“Well, you came to the right place then.” Elizabeth chuckled. “St. Anthony’s pretty structured alright.”
“I noticed,” Theresa huffed. “Although I’m just glad there’s some people here I know that I can talk-”
*SMACK!*
Theresa yelped as a yardstick crashed into the top of her desk. Slowly, she turned her head to see a nun standing over her, in a full habit. She was older- probably in her fifties, although it was tough to tell with all but her face covered by headcloth. “There will be NO talking in my class after the bell rings,” she said, her voice stern and commanding.
“S...s….sorry,” Theresa stammered. “I...didn’t hear the bell ring.”
“Then I strongly suggest you work on your LISTENING.” the nun said. “Now… may I expect no further distractions from you, so that I may run my class properly?”
Theresa nodded timidly. “Yes…”
“You will say ‘Yes, Sister Abigail.’ Is that clear?”
“Yes… Sister Abigail…”
“Good, now…” Sister Abigail turned away from Theresa, yardstick in hand, and informed the class that she would be passing around a seating chart for them to fill in, and that they would be filling in their names, using clear, precise CURSIVE. Everything would be in CURSIVE. There will be no printing in Sister Abigail’s class!
Theresa sighed. She’d practiced cursive last year, and she enjoyed making the loops and whatnot, so she didn’t really mind that. But she was looking at that yardstick. It had to be just for show and smacking inanimate objects. Sister Abigail couldn’t possibly use that on the STUDENTS.
...Right?
She sighed. It was going to be a LONG year…
No comments:
Post a Comment