#sharingbcwhynot

[notgoru]

Title: What’s his name?

Description: A mother is sending her disobedient eleven year old son to military school. This is her first encounter with the Lieutenant. More words…Blah. Read to find out what happens next.

Author’s Note: ENJOY! i’m writing more but it’s only little pieces like this! i figured that it’s better than nothing *shrug*

The room I was standing in looked expensive.

The trash cans I passed by to get inside said room were definitely more expensive than whatever I was wearing. I didn’t even want to be here. I didn’t want it to ever come to this, but at last, I followed the yellow brick road all the way to military school. No, not for me, but for my wonderful child.

Not the sarcasm. If my child was wonderful, I wouldn’t have to call off from work, wake up very early to get here at the crack of dawn, and sweat out my silk press to finally place my feet in the principal’s office. But since this was a military school, what was the correct wording? General’s building? Commanding officer’s? President’s?

He would tell me. The he who has not turned around from facing the window since we arrived not long ago. All my wonderful child and I have had the pleasure of looking at and talking to was the furniture surrounding us. The desks, the chairs, and the goddamn wallpaper were screaming one word: broke, broke, broke. I didn’t know how long I could take the insults. Although it was very dull inside the room—a clown would cry in this room and it seemed like the decorator had a fear of bright colors—I wanted out. I was uncomfortable. I’ve been standing here for at least two minutes and hadn’t been regarded for. I knew that he knew we had come in. The huge hardwood door opening and closing was a big factor in my discovery.

I was losing my patience. I looked to my right and saw my child—I had to pause—standing still?

Who was this child to the right of me and where did my crazy baby boy go?

I promise you this eleven year old boy had less patience than an infant. One time we had been standing outside Ralphs Supermarket and we spotted a girl outside selling Girl Scout cookies. I picked up a box and paid for mine and since he had an allowance, I made him pay for the things he wanted. He wanted cookies, so he gave the young girl his money. There was trouble opening the cash register, so a minute had passed by, but a minute was too long for this child. He made a noise then threw the box of cookies right at her father’s pudgy stomach.

Of course I had to buy ten boxes of cookies because of the occurrence—I didn’t want any legal trouble. I yelled, I cursed, and I took his iPad away, but things like that still occurred. He didn’t take me seriously and everytime I did yell or curse, I felt bad about it later—he was my only baby. I didn’t like to see him upset. I didn’t like being upset at him.

Yes, it was a tough situation. And even tougher situations came out of it because of my style of parenting—which was why I was here. Here being ignored. I had to speak, so I spoke,

“Um excuse me sir—“

Finally, he turned around and. . .and. . and what are we talking about again? Oh, his eyes? Well they were more sparkly than a disco ball. My eyes were definitely dancing all over him. His face, his arms, his uniform—

Stop. This was my son’s principal. No, Officer. No, General?

“Please sit down.” He said. His voice was just as I imagined. Deep and captivating.

Strangely it felt like that please was forced out.

My son and I moved around from standing next to the door and sat down in the chairs that were placed in front of the desk. Well actually—I was the only one who sat down. My son—my wonderful son—said,

“Mom, I don’t want to be here.”

I gave him a small encouraging smile. “I know baby, but you’ve been kicked out of three schools and I don’t have the ability to persuade you into another school again. This school will be perfect for you.”

“I’m not a baby.” Was the only thing he said to me in response, still standing.

“Sit down, son.” Mr. Curtain Watcher spoke up from behind the desk, sat in his chair.

And to my surprise, my son listened.

Mr. Military man wasn’t done with speaking though. He continued, “Your mother believes that this school is a perfect fit for you, so that means that I believe that this school is the perfect fit for you. Do you want me to become a liar?”

“No.” My little boy replied back in a small breath. It seemed that my little baby was nervous around this man and I knew this because his knee was bopping uncontrollably and he kept gulping.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or comfort him.

Scary man who made my son nervous turned his attention back to me. Weirdly, it caused me to sit up in my seat straighter. I didn’t know why I was slightly scared of the man. I wasn’t attending the school. “Ms. Rontol, it seems to me that you already filled out all the required documents online, you paid your fees and have turned in his suitcases to the front desk. Great. That makes my job easier.” Suddenly, he stopped gawking at me and switched it to my son. His eyes moving up and down. “I noticed that we have your address on file, were you not able to receive a package of the uniform?”

“Oh, we received it.” I said. His eyes moved back to me and I had to take a gulp. Why did it seem like I was in the hot seat? “I just didn’t think it was required for the first day.”

“It’s required. Every time he steps foot on campus, he’s required to wear a uniform.”

My back went straight. Is it really that big of a deal? He wasn’t officially a student until I left the premises. “Okay well I was going to take him out to lunch after this meeting, for our final goodbye, and I didn’t want him to be fitted up at Taco Bell.”

That was a joke. Like I would ever take my child to rotten Taco Bell… McDonald’s is more my forte.

It was silent for a second after my response. Then he said, “We have a dress code for everyone who steps on campus; including parents. It’s only fair that everyone applies by the same rules.”

I wanted to laugh. “What? I have to wear a uniform too?”

“No, but we have guidelines.”

“Excuse me? Are you trying to say something?” I didn’t think he even saw my outfit. The whole time we’ve been here, his eyes have either been connected directly with mine or on my son. Trust me, I would’ve felt if his gaze had wandered down a bit. Not because it's him, but I knew when anyone’s gaze wandered down a little too far for my liking.

I wasn’t even wearing anything scandalous. This outfit was produced from the modest side of my closet. My shirt did have a drop down v neck and because I was blessed in the chest area, some cleavage was showing, but you have to be kidding me? It was an ounce of cleavage and my skirt was past my knees. I was basically a nun.

“All I’m trying to do is inform you of the rules.” The man behind the desk said. “Your child watches everything you do and say.” He rudely reminded me.

But he was right. To my right, Knight—my son—was staring at me with wide eyes and an open wide. He couldn’t believe that I just talked back to the teacher.

“Yes, of course. I will look at the dress code right when I get back in the car.” I faked a smile and agreed.

“Great.” He said.

“Great. I said.”