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"You can't do this to me," Gregory grumbles for the millionth time. He knows his protests won't be of any use, but if he's going to be forced into shit against his will, he's determined to piss off everyone involved as much as possible.
"Gregory." His father leans forward on the kitchen counter, wrinkles lining his forehead. There's more of them than there'd been last week, Gregory's sure of that. Part of him feels guilty, knowing full well he's the cause of the extra furrows. Part of him feels satisfied, almost as if they're karma. "We've talked about this. Do you know how much I had to do to get you accepted into Bailey?"
"You chatted it up with your high school friend, asked Balloon Tits to flash a little boob, and dumped me into a school I don't even want to go to in the first place. I don't think that counts as 'doing very much'." Gregory accompanies the offending statement with air quotes, making sure his father can see his displeasure. "And tossing me into Balloon Tits' music class even though I don't need it? Not cool, Dad."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." His father rubs his temples with two fingers. "Gregory, I just want the best for you. You need a proper education, and you're not going to get that if you keep beating people up for no reason."
"It wasn't for no reason!" Gregory argues, his temper flaring. He balls his hands into fists, feeling anger rear its ugly head. He shuts his eyes, as if that'll make his father's decisions go away. It's not fair! Why do I have to suffer for something that's not even my fault?
"Maybe we should look into getting anger management counselling for you," his father suggests.
Something inside Gregory snaps. "Dad. I don't fucking need anger management counselling. What I need is for you to get Balloon Tits out of the house and then listen to me for once," he growls. He's boiling with fury, fury for everyone and everything---his father, Balloon Tits, the person he'd once called his boyfriend. Not anymore, that's for sure.
"That's enough, Gregory!" his father yells, slamming both hands down on the kitchen counter. The look of resignation that had spread across his face earlier is gone, replaced with blazing rage. "Don't disrespect your mother like that!"
