Teenagers!
Anna fumed as she pulled into the driveway almost catching the gate post as she turned in. She couldn’t really complain about her eldest son, Michael; he’d been every parent’s ‘wet-dream’ up until this morning, studious, polite, he even kept his room tidy. Then today he gets himself suspended from school for starting a fight!
She shook her head as she climbed out of her car and headed for the door; it was just as well he lost, it seemed the Headmistress had intimated, even with his grades and spotless record he would have been expelled if the parents of the other child had wanted to press charges for assault.
Chalk and cheese she thought to herself as she opened the front door and kicked off her four inch heels beside all the other shoes of the family. Her precocious daughter was what her own father had called ‘a handful and no mistake’ even if he had spoiled her rotten when he was alive. Ten months between them, Irish twins and apart from the similarity in their looks that was where it ended. Barely a fortnight went by where Caitlin didn’t have to attend a detention for some infringement or other of the school rules.
Anna entered the kitchen noting that even though Michael was at home as punishment he had emptied the dishwasher and a load of clothing was tumbling inside the dryer without having been asked. She poured herself a glass of water as she wondered if it would ever enter into Caitlin’s head rather than just complain when she had nothing clean to wear. She knew her sixteen year old daughter had so far got by on her intelligence but now she was in the sixth form, the year below her brother, she couldn’t imagine her getting away without knuckling down and doing some real work.
“Time to face the music” she muttered to herself and turned to head up the stairs.
Michael’s door was ajar, and Anna wasn’t surprised to see him sitting as his desk, the computer on in front of him and his school books spread open. You’re so not like the average teenage boy she mused to herself before lightly rapping on the door frame.
Her son looked up at her and she stifled a gasp as she saw his discoloured eye and cut lip on his face. Her eyes dropped first to the raw knuckles on his left hand and then to the bruising on his upper right arm and right thigh as he sat there in his Deadpool T-shirt and shorts. “Sorry Ma” he offered with an absolute genuine look of remorse in his dark brown eyes.
Anna sat down on the end of her son’s bed, crossing her legs and reaching down to massage her nylon-ed feet as Michael reluctantly swivelled round in his chair to face her. “You gonna tell me what it was all about, Mike?” she asked without looking up. She suppressed a grin as she watched his feet twist from side to side, hearing a faint squeak from the chair and making a mental note to get her husband to oil it when he got home.
After a number of seconds Michael answered albeit as a mumble, “It was just school stuff, Ma.”
Anna re-crossed her leg and began to work the knots from her other foot, “Just school stuff?” she echoed, “Not sure that’s gonna cut it, Michael” she answered using his full name to denote the seriousness of the situation; “Definitely won’t be enough for your father!”
She heard an audible gulp from her son before he replied, “Does Dad really have to know?” he asked.
“The e-mails come through to the family account, I know he often doesn’t read them all but I can assure he looks at the titles and ‘Five day suspension of your son” is gonna stand out!” Anna nibbled her lip knowing full well that her husband, Sean, more often than not didn’t read the family account and simply waited for her to either forward messages to his work account or simply tell him when he arrived home.
“Oh sh…” Michael snapped his mouth shut preventing the curse-word from fully forming.
Anna released her foot and looked up at her son, not for the first time wishing that he’d loosen up a bit. She knew he would swear in front of/with Sean; his father’s Irish background almost made it mandatory to be able to curse like sailor but at the same time neither would utter a profanity in front of a woman (at least not in public she thought and quashed that thought-train instantly).
Michael sat there, his eyes pleading with her as his fists clenched and unclenched on his thighs. She let her eyes cast across the wounds from his first fight at school. The nurse within her figured the discoloured eye was a badly aimed fist, the bruises on his arm were probably as he held them in front of his face but the large bruise on his thigh, which might have been two or three, she strongly suspected were from shoes stamping on his leg. She shuddered, imagining her ‘baby-boy’ lying on the ground in a foetal position as some ‘big’ bully kicked him.
Her eyes dropped to his knuckles, “I’m told you threw the first punch?” she asked. The red raw knuckles she studied suggested it either was one hell of a punch or Michael had hit his foe numerous times.
He nodded dumbly, still twisting a little in his chair. Anna studied her son for a moment; he had grown considerably over the past six months, only just three inches shorter than Sean which put him at 5’11”, a full nine inches taller than herself when she wasn’t wearing her four inch pumps. Michael’s only physical passion was cross-country running in which he had won several medals all the way up to his sixteenth year. He’d dropped out of competition to concentrate more on his studies but still ran twice a week and generally at least 10K each time.
“Why?” she simply replied as his head dropped and his messy, black curly hair covered his eyes. The boy was fit but also quite thin, wiry, almost lanky and she couldn’t imagine he’d have much of a punch as all his real strength resided in his long legs. “Why?” she repeated more forcefully.
Michael mumbled something completely incoherent in way of response briefly looking up through his fringe hoping his mother was satisfied. He saw her sitting on his bed, her legs crossed and a set of red fingernails tapping impatiently upon her knee.
“He said something” he blurted out and dropped his head again.
“Wha-” Anna began as the pair of them heard rapid thumps coming up the stairs like a small herd of Wildebeest fleeing from a pride of starving lions.
Michael exchanged a brief look of amusement with his mom at the familiar noise made by Caitlin; Anna quickly resumed her stern look as the familiar voice shouted from the top of the stairs.
“What the fuck were you thinking Mickey?” the high pitched voice cried.
Anna sat still and turned her head towards the door as Caitlin appeared. It was incredulous that a sixteen year old girl, barely measuring five feet tall without an ounce of extra fat anywhere on her lithe frame and wearing the school regulation socks could make so much noise coming up the stairs. She opened her mouth, about to unleash a fusillade of questions at her big brother when she realised her mother was sitting on the end of the bed.
“Oh, hi Ma” she said coyly, glancing over her shoulder down the hall for a second wondering if there was a possible explanation for her last sentence. Anna could see in her daughter’s green eyes that her mind simply decided that ignoring her last remark was probably the best course of action.
“Hi, Caitlin!” she replied, shaking her head and briefly looking down at her daughters legs. The black pleated skirt was designed to reach past the knees but apparently didn’t even manage to reach the middle of her tanned thighs. One problem at a time she thought and turned back to her son. “Not quite how your sister put it, but essentially the same; what were you thinking? What did he say?”
Caitlin leant against the door frame looking expectantly at her older brother, nibbling her bottom lip as her eyes skirted over the bruises on his arm and thigh; she’d half been expecting to see him in a wheelchair after she heard what had happened. She was even slightly proud of him having seen the absolute shiner he’d left upon Mark Chase’s eye.
“Nothing” Michael murmured.
“Look at me!” demanded Anna and her son reluctantly obeyed lifting his head.
“Wow!” Caitlin exclaimed loudly from the door seeing the bruising around his brother’s eye; she stepped forward and leant closer for a closer inspection.
“What?” Anna asked frustrated and turning her attention to her daughter. Again Caitlin’s interpretation of the school dress-code annoyed her; she was quite sure that wasn’t the blouse she had been wearing when she left the house that morning. She stared at her child’s breasts stretching the white cotton and was positive that the item of clothing had been ear-marked the previous year to go to the charity shop. Not only was it at least a size too small, Anna knew that her daughter had progressed to B34 bra size, fractionally larger than her own B32. The buttons strained on her daughter’s blouse as she reached up a slim finger to her brother’s eye.
“I amazed Mickey got off so light!” she said, Michael’s eye twitched as he felt the incredibly delicate touch of his sister’s fingers upon his cheek, slowly outlining the discoloured flesh.
“Light?” Anna replied actually thinking about the five-day suspension.
Caitlin paused and looked across at her mother, her fingers still touching her brother’s cheek; “Don’t you know who Mickey fought” she asked and then continued without waiting for an answer. “Mark Chase, that’s who! Built like the proverbial, plays something big and scary in Rugby for the school… ain’t so pretty today though!” She turned back to her brother who stared resolutely at his mother sitting on the bed, “Tell you something, bro’; I’m told you only landed one punch but it’s the biggest, baddest, black eye, I ever saw; swear!”
Anna’s chest swelled a fraction before she berated herself for such a childish sense of pride. “So why did you do it. What did he say?” she demanded.
Caitlin stepped back and rested her ass against her brother’s desk, crossing her ankles and arms as the two women waited for the young man’s response. Michael glanced at his sister and quickly dropped his head again before muttering “I can’t remember.”
His sister snorted at the weak lie before clamping her lips together at the stern look from her mother. “Don’t lie to me Michael; tell me what he said, make me understand?” Anna implored before tentatively asking “Was it… a gay thing or something?”
“I’m not gay” Michael responded immediately, “No... no.” he stammered, “nothing like that” he finished with a whisper. The two women glanced at each other as the last part of the sentence was inaudible.
“What was that?” Anna asked softly.
“It wasn’t about me” Michael answered quietly.
“A race thing? About your Dad being Irish?” Anna struggled.
Michael shook his head and then it twitched to the left a fraction as his mother struggled to think what could’ve set off the normally pleasant and polite young man in front of her.
“Was it me?” Caitlin asked curiously having noted her brother’s head movement and having imagined that the eyes beneath the fringe had looked directly at her feet.
Michael remained mute as the two women waited; Anna was a little surprised that Caitlin hadn’t asked again and that her own patience had dissipated first. “Did Mark say something about your sister?” she asked quietly.
Michael shrugged and his sister stepped forward, “What did he say, Michael?” she asked using his full name just like their dad did when his patience was disappearing.
Anna watched her son’s eyes rise up Caitlin’s frame; they flickered as they passed the hem of her skirt. His eyes were shiny though she was sure it wasn’t because he was about to cry; it was anger or something close to it and it was directed at his sister. The idea sprung into her mind; or the way she’s dressed!
Caitlin folded her arms across her chest and even without seeing her directly from the front her mother knew that she’d pressed her breasts together deepening her cleavage without realising and accentuating what she had. Anna nibbled her bottom lip having used the stance herself; boys and men were so easily distracted and her son was equally susceptible as well as his eyes dropped for a moment. She wasn’t sure how Caitlin failed to notice but the younger woman continued her own interrogation without pause; “What did that prick say?” she fumed.
Michael remained stoic so Anna replied instead, “I’m thinking he said something along the lines that you’re a tease or… a slut, Caitlin.”
Her daughter swivelled around instantly to gaze at her mother, “What the f…“ she started and cut off the swear word before it fully formed.
“Is that about right Michael?” Anna asked ignoring her daughter and her son’s head dropped before acknowledging with the slightest of nods. “Your brother was defending your honour, young lady!”
Caitlin’s mouth opened and closed twice before her stance relaxed and her arms dropped down by her sides. “The boy’s a prick, anyway” she muttered before stepping back to lean against the desk once again.
“That’s as may be… but what do you expect to be called when you dress like that?” Anna asked as she stood up and approached her daughter; her eyes roaming up and down the young woman’s outfit.
“I’m expressing myself!” Caitlin shot back in voice at least an octave higher than she meant. She blushed deeply hearing the petulant sound of her own voice.
“Stand up, young lady” her mother ordered and Caitlin’s legs responded almost before her mind had registered the tone. Anna took her daughter’s hand and pulled her away from the desk to stand centrally between Michael and his bed. “This isn’t how you were dressed when you left the house this morning?” she asked rhetorically, continuing before Caitlin had a chance to speak.
“The skirt is easy; rolled up around the belt, an old trick.” Anna commented as she laid a single fingernail upon her daughter’s shoulder from behind her.
