Desperate Measures

Breakfast was a rush. Everyone except Guin had slept in, as yesterday had been a big to-do. Between all of them, however, they managed to put together a quick breakfast and were out the door within twenty minutes of waking up. One of the big drawbacks to this rush, however, is that no one had any lunch.

The walk to school was almost normal. There were instances where Guin had stayed at Jenny's house overnight and had taken this exact route to school, but she was used to meeting up with Jenny and Kurt two blocks in and walking together. They were only a few blocks apart to begin with, and where they met up was almost a straight shot to the school.

Guin almost felt a bit lighter as she walked. Having this normalcy to latch onto was wonderful. She certainly couldn't forget her troubles just yet, but there was a glimmer of hope that some things were still the same. Perhaps her entire life wasn't upended, but there was still a lot she would have to grow accustomed to.

"Did you do your homework?" asked Jenny. It was more an excuse to break the silence than anything else.

"No. I didn't have the time," answered Guin. "I spent all of yesterday at the funeral."

"Half of yesterday," corrected Kurt. "I don't know why they didn't give you any leave for that. Really fucked up that you couldn't at least take a day off of school."

"Hey! Watch your language," urged Guin. "You're going to give us all detention if we're caught using those words."

"Good," scoffed Kurt. "Maybe we'll actually have time to finish our homework."

"You didn't, either?"

"I was at the same funeral you were. When would I have time to do my math worksheet?"

"He has a point," suggested Jenny. "Even with how messed up it is that you can't even take a day off of school to attend your grandmother's funeral. Seriously, how did that happen?"

Guin shrugged. "When I went to see Miss Abalone about it, she said I needed the permission of my legal guardian, and we haven't made it around to the point where that's your dad, yet. It's still my gran, legally speaking."

"And we can't change it until Saturday," concluded Kurt. "Dad works during the day, and he can't go down to the school during normal hours through the weekdays. He already had to take a personal day just to make the funeral, and another one to be able to do wedding. It's fucked up, but that's the way it is."

"And that's a detention, Mr. Ass." They all turned around to see Jenny and Guin's teacher and Kurt's former teacher, Miss Abalone. She was very stern and strict. "All of you need to hurry to your classrooms. You don't want to be late."

To Guin's relief, school passed by just like any normal day. It was upsetting that there was nothing to eat for lunch, either for herself or for Kurt and Jenny, but having no lunch was better than the first two days on her own. A peanut butter and anchovy sandwich that had been mashed into her brown paper bag by an unopened can of ravioli that she had forgotten to bring an opener for was always a bad choice. Not having anything to eat was better than having food that you couldn't eat because it had gone terribly. At least now, she wasn't being teased by the food, just her classmates for not having anyone who cared about her enough to send a meal. Even Miss Abalone chastised her indirectly, saying that Kurt and Jenny should have their father or their new mother prepare food for them.

At the end of the day, Miss Abalone asked Guin to stay behind, sending Jenny home with a note telling her father where Kurt was. Guin did as she was asked, as there was a saying among the students. "When Miss Abalone asks you for something, she's not asking." Not wanting to earn herself the extra detention time, she stayed in her seat until the room emptied, and then for several minutes after that as Miss Abalone recorded a few things in her notes.

Finally, she looked up. "How was the wedding?"

"Fine, I guess," shrugged Guin.

"Good." She put down her pen and adjusted her glasses. "You are aware that every Monday and Friday, there is a meeting here at the school that houses the upper echelons of parents, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," swallowed Guin.

She'd known about them for awhile now, and had asked her gran why she hadn't gone. "Because I'm not about to let some stuck-up rich cunt tell me that I'm a bad parent because my triple berry pie has the wrong ratio of blueberries, blackberries and raspberries. Oh, and don't tell them I called them all cunts. That's another one of those "bad words" I told you about."

"It is the duty of a mother to ensure that her children are taken care of," continued Miss Abalone. "I noticed today that neither your son nor your daughter were supplied with anything to eat."

"Well, their dad had prepared some egg salad, but we kind of had that for dinner last night..."

"I'm not looking to hear any excuses," interrupted Miss Abalone. "It's your responsibility to feed your kids. You are obligated to do so, even as a step-parent. I've already signed you up."

"I don't know if I'm going to go, though..."

Miss Abalone took a deep breath and folded her hooves. "Do you not care about the well-being of your kids?"

"No! I mean, yes! I mean... I do care, I just... Do I have to attend the meetings? My gran never did, and she took good care of me."

"It is not necessary for you to attend the meetings, no... However, these are the best mothers in the school. Their children are all in the top of their classes. If you want your kids to have a good mother, I suggest that you learn how to be one, and these ladies are very clearly doing something right."

Guin slowly nodded. "I'll try to remember to go. I'm already signed up, after all."

"That's the spirit. Now, let's talk about your son's swearing problem. What have you done at home to counteract this problem?"