The Bad Beginning
Dear Mr. Wayne,
I regret to inform you that today, during the lunch break, Mary caused severe injury to a ninth grade student.
Therefore I require a meeting with you to fully discuss this unpleasant occurrence.
Sincerely yours
-- Mrs. Elinor Bailey,
School Principal
The girl glares at the note, her hands curled into fists in her lap.
I regret to inform you that today, during the lunch break, Mary caused severe injury to a ninth grade student.
Therefore I require a meeting with you to fully discuss this unpleasant occurrence.
Sincerely yours
-- Mrs. Elinor Bailey,
School Principal
The girl glares at the note, her hands curled into fists in her lap.
Sigh.
Regardless of the provocation, you can't go around breaking bones like that. If nothing else, it draws too much attention. Attention we don't need. So.
Okay. Safe bet? Bruce is going to be ticked. And as much as I can understand why you did what you did, I can't condone it. Also, I understand why he's going to hit the roof. So. First off? Don't try to make excuses unless he asks you for an explanation. I've tried. It always ends up sounding like whining, even when you don't mean it to.
Second. Be prepared for the possibility that he's going to want to take you out of school 'until you can control your temper'. If you lose your temper arguing? It's not going to help your case. Go along with whatever he says. Because the more you dig in your heels and protest, the more stubborn he's going to get. You show him you're trying to learn from your mistakes and he'll probably come around eventually.
Third: if you do go back to school, be prepared to have to apologize to the abusive thief. No, I don't think you should have to. I doubt Bruce will either. But chances are the school won't let you back unless you do. And he's probably not going to have to apologize to you. It stinks. But unless you can prove that he was trying to beat you up and rob you, there's no evidence that was his intent. On the other hand, they have quite a bit of evidence that you broke his arm.
Temper or no temper, Mar'i, I think you know better than this. You're too bright not to. Time to act it.
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"... my dad would ask me if I'm all right first," the girl says in a low tone of voice; her eyes still locked on the note.
Mar'i's father (like his alternate self in this universe) is perfectly well aware that no ninth-grade goon can possibly hurt his little girl physically. But emotionally?
Her dad would ask her about her feelings.
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He sighs. "And yeah. That's a lousy excuse. Guess I'm still coming to grips with the idea that I have a daughter. Especially a teenaged one. Can I get a do-over?" He puts a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
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"... he called me nasty things." She murmurs.
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"I... messed your life, right?" She asks quietly.
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Just... keep in mind that your father is an older, wiser, more experienced version of me. I'm probably going to mess up more because, when you get right down to it, I'm only a few years older than you, right now. And your father and I may have a lot in common, but I'm not always going to do things exactly the way he would have. If I were... your mom and me would still be... involved.
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Dick has the same smell as her dad. And his hand feels exactly like her dad's. But Dick is NOT her father. And that's something Mar'i must get used to as well.
"... we don't have a white fence," eventually the girl murmurs, with her little smile still in place.
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