Messed Up Vita

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After a few twenty minutes of yelling and disciplining us, I ended up with a three day in-school suspension. Ryan got the same as me, and we have to sit in a classroom together until it's over. Mason, on the other hand, went free of charge. It was like a freaking pleading in a court when the principle was the judge, and the teachers were the jury. We were the accused. I wonder if they purposely layed it out like this.

   "You are going to have to go home today," the principle continues. "So I'll call your parents right-"

   "Wait!" I burst out. "I can't skip another day! I have a science test I didn't even take yet!"

   "That's your fault, Ms. Peterson," Mr. Bellards snaps. I pinch my lips together angrily and slump in my desk, covering my eyes with my hands and groaning so they know my pain.

   "You can go now, Mason," one of the teachers calmly says. "Thank you for trying to stop this fight from further hurt."

   I flash a furious glare at Mason. What the hell did he do?! He only held me back like a freaking dog while Ryan threw a spoon at my face. He should've defended me. Or at least let me go away when I wanted to, when I clearly warned him about fights. I've been in a few actual fist fights before. Once in third grade when I first got my glasses. Some fat kid tried to tease me about them, so I teased him about his fatness. Rude, I know. But he threw the first punch. I threw the last one, and he landed on the ground with a bloody nose. Another time was in eighth grade-- two years ago, when I was thirteen-- there was this girl I was friends with. I learned she was calling me names behind my back, so I straight up punched her. I walked away without explaining, but I know she know's what she did.

   Mason looks at me back a little angry, but guilt lies in his eyes. What's he got to be guilty about? Holding me back, yes. 

   "You may go," the teacher repeats. Mason stands to his feet, and quickly walks out of the room without a word. 

   "What is your mother or father's cell phone number, Ryan?" Mr. Bellards asks, a fat cord phone in his hands. He punches in the number that Ryan reluctantly tells them. I roll my eyes and stare down at my fingers. I pick at a nail I chewed on earlier, which is jagged. Gross.

   "And yours, Ms. Peterson?" he asks when he stops talking to Ryan's parents. I mutter out mine, and he punches it in quickly. A minute passes before somebody answers. "Hello, Mr. Peterson? It's your daughter's principle, Mr. Bellards."

   A pause, then he says. "Yes, she got into trouble today with another kid." I can imagine my father's answer-- "Again?". 

    "Can you please come pick your daughter up from the office, please?" Mr. Bellards asks my dad. "Thank you very much." He hangs up calmly, but I know better than that. My father's going to throw a fit right when we get outside, away from eyes.

   "Please sit until your parents come," he says, sitting down in his own desk. The teachers, one by single filed one, leave the room silently. It was a bit eerie.

   I slump in my desk. "Can I at least go get my stuff? You know, student stuff. Homework."

   He sighs and stops Mrs. Fern. "Will you please escort these two to get their belongings? Make sure they don't go anywhere, or fight." He draws out that last word with a pointed, angry look at both of us. I hold his stare daringly. He squints his eyes at me, as if deciding who I was. A rebellious party-goer, or just a rather arrogant and stupid student getting into fights about her singing. I bet it was the second one.

   "Go, now," he says slowly. I stand to my feet and walk out the door before either could get to it first. Oh, how I wish I would've sat with Mandy instead of Mason. I kick a pencil along the floor with my worn down moccasins. I stuff my hands in my pockets and wish that Joey was here with me. Not to get in trouble, but somebody to lean my weight against. Not physically, but mentally. All I was, was a mean tomboy who has no friends, and gets into fights over singing. And with my few friends, I manage to ignore them without meaning to-- Joey-- and embarrass them in front of the whole school-- Mason.  I am such a great person, I think to myself sarcastically and bitterly.

   "Where's your locker?" Mrs. Fern asks me. 

    "Right there," I point to it a few lockers down. I walk to it halfheartedly and unlock it, swinging it open. Something tumbles out of it, a note, and I quickly bend down to swoop it up before notices. I put it in my pocket silently as I grab my books, one by one, and stuff them into my backpack that I left in my locker. I slam the door and haul it over my shoulder, just in time to see Ryan slam his across the hall.

   "Now, do you have all your things?" Mrs. Fern says impatiently.

   "Yes," I mutter. Ryan says nothing, only staring down at the dirty floor.

   "Good," she says sarcastically. "Now, come, star-students." I didn't know the teachers could be sarcastic. Isn't that against the law or something?

    I trail back behind them, walking slowly. I pull the piece of paper from my pocket and unfold it. It's scratch paper from college-ruled, with penciled writings written in neat handwriting on it. Their writing was so beautiful and neat, I had a hard time believing it came from a boy when I read the whole thing.

   "Eliot," the note said at the top. "Can you still come tonight? I heard the fight in the cafeteria. Call me when you can. I really need to tell you something  -Death Head."

   I make sure they didn't see me read the note, when I fold it gently and put it in my pocket. What did Joey have to say that was so urgent? Then I remember that when I told him I was sitting with Mason, he looked kind of impatient and irritated. Maybe I was blowing him off again. I feel a tugging guilt in my stomach again. This wasn't a way to treat a friend. I can't keep ignoring him or saying I can't do something. But after today, I am almost positive that I won't be able to go anywhere. I'd be grounded for two months at the most.

   Death Head is very loyal to me, and I need to be there for him. The problem is that I'm a horrible friend, though. 

   "How could you get into a stupid fight?" my dad shouts at me, when we're in front of his car. I flinch at his words. He's never been this angry-- I can already tell by his voice. "You're a good girl, Eliot. And you gave him a blood nose, over what? Huh?"

   I duck my head. "He was insulting me."

   "That's no reason to beat him!" he says. "First you're sick for two days, you get into a fight, and then you're suspended? What's going on, Eliot. Are you skipping school for some reason?"

   "I'm not skipping on purpose!" I protest. "I was sick, and I just happened to get sent home. I don't want to, but they're making me."

   "You deserve it," he snaps. He scoffs to himself. "Getting into a fight. What kind of child did I raise, her getting into fights every time I turn my head?" 

   He's about to open his car door, but stops and turns back to me with fire in his eyes. "I've heard about you and Linda, too, Eliot. You wanna talk to your stepmother like that? Fine. But you're going to apologize, and then you're going to your mothers after your punishment so I don't have to deal with you!"

   I flinch at his words. That stung. He glares at me before slamming his door. I blink away the tears I didn't know were rising, and quickly open the back door of the car, as far away from my dad as I can get. I shield my face with my hood, staring out the window. Does my dad really not care whether I'm with him or not? I bite my lip and wish that the week will go faster, so that I actually get to see her. If Dad really doesn't care for me, then I won't care for him.

   I always loved my real mom better than him, anyways.