Desperate Measures

There was a special quality about Friday that every child was aware of. Friday was the last day of school for the whole week, until Monday rolled around to ruin it. Every student in class was waiting for that bell to ring. They'd have the whole afternoon, then all of Saturday off. Then they would spend all of Sunday doing their weekend homework.

While Jenny was looking forward to being let out like any other given Friday, Guin was worried about the meeting she would be attending. It took place almost immediately after school, with a good twenty minutes to set up. That meant exactly enough time to go home and come right back, if she were to run. If she walked, she could only just make it home, and if she flew, she'd be able to spend a bit more time at the house, but she refrained from flying when Jenny was around, as her best friend couldn't follow where she went.

As soon as the bell rang, the students all gathered together in groups and rushed out of the classroom. For the next two days, there would be no more pencils, no more books, and no more teachers' dirty looks.

For most of them, anyway. While Jenny went for the door, Guin stayed at her desk. It was a solid thirty seconds before Jenny came back in. "What's wrong? I don't remember Miss Abalone telling you to stay after class today."

"I have the thing tonight."

Jenny's face scrunched up. "The parents' meeting, I forgot..."

"Kurt tried to talk me out of it."

"I think he's right," whispered Jenny. "Do you have to go?"

"I was told I would learn ways to be a better caretaker for all of you if I went," answered Guin. "What if Miss Abalone is right?"

Jenny slowly nodded. "Can I come, too?"

"I... I don't know. I think it's just for parents. I think it's going to be weird being the only kid there. Having two would probably be more of a spectacle. No, I think I want to go in there alone; I'll try to just be a fly on the wall. But I'll tell you how it went when I come home tonight."

Jenny nodded, then hugged Guin. "I'll see you at dinner."

As Jenny left, Miss Abalone escorted Guin down the hall to the cafeteria, where the meeting would be held. Two other moms were already there, sitting at a table. Guin moved to the table next to them and sat down, far enough away to not disturb them, but close enough to listen.

"Do you think that bitch is going to make anything good?" asked the first one, a unicorn.

"What concern do you have in the food's design?" asked the second, a zebra. "You'll not even taste it after three glasses of wine."

"I'll abstain from drinking if the food is actually edible," scoffed the unicorn. "Half of these cocksleeves are all shit when it comes to cooking. I have no hope that the new member is going to make anything that doesn't taste like dog shit that's been covered in cat piss and served on a bed of vomit. And yet they all think they're special because they can make a storebought peach cobbler that you just pop in the oven for an hour, and they burn those half the time, anyway."

"Lower your voice when addressing your fears," snorted the zebra, pointing to Guin. "We are joined, at this moment, by childish ears."

The unicorn turned and looked at Guin, then pointed to the door. "Band practice is down the hall."

"I'm not here for band practice," answered Guin, looking to the door to see if Miss Abalone was still there. She wasn't.

"Detention is in another room, too. Away with you."

"I was told to come here. Isn't this the place for Moms something something Structures meeting?"

"Mothers Overtaking Maternal Structures," corrected the zebra. "We're only accepting parents at this juncture."

"Oh." Guin slid out of her chair. "Sorry, I was told to come here."

"By who?" asked the unicorn.

"By whom," corrected a new mare coming through the door with two more following her, all earth ponies. "Honestly, Vino, learn to speak Ponish. Who's the kid?"

"I'm Guin."

The mare smiled, but Guin could see something sinister in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Guin. You may call me Mistress."

"Wait," sighed the unicorn, holding up her hoof. "You're Guin?"

"I am," answered Guin. "I just became a stepmother on Monday night."

"Great!" shouted Vino. "She's another fucking toddler!"

"Don't worry about her," waved the one calling herself Mistress. Guin was pretty sure that wasn't her real name, but didn't know what else to call her. "She's just mad because you're unlikely to bring any wine for her to drink. Did you bring wine?"

"I didn't," answered Guin. "I'm not old enough to buy it. Even then, I don't have a job, so I don't really have any money."

That wasn't entirely true. Jack had dealt with the bank, depositing everything her gran had into a savings account that Guin would be able to access as soon as she was eighteen. The bank had needed an adult related to her grandmother, and Jack had found the paperwork to make it happen. Technically, as her husband, he could then withdraw it, but he'd opted to hold onto it, as there was already a plan set in motion by her gran, as the paperwork for the account in her gran's file cabinet had been in a folder called "Guin's college fund," and Jack had left that as it was out of respect for her gran.

"Well, the wine was optional, anyway," chuckled Mistress, sneering at Vino. "Some of us don't have to drink away our problems as if our husband's dick would grow when we hit the bottom of the bottle."

The zebra chuckled at that, but stopped and feigned looking at a fly as soon as Vino turned back to her.

"Anyway, best to bring wine next time," continued Mistress. "Make your husband buy it for you."

As a few more mares filed in, Guin noted that there were no stallions. "Are there no dads coming?" she asked a mare in her mid-twenties that had sat down next to her.

"You know how dads and husbands are," the mare scoffed. "They're just another kid to take care of. They come home and sit down on the couch. They don't do housework, they don't take care of the kids, and then they whine when you don't let them fuck you in the arse."

That sounded very wrong to Guin. Her father hadn't come home since she was conceived. Six of them were listed on her birth certificate because her mom didn't know who it was. And she'd been living with Jenny and her family for a little over a week, now, and Jack always made dinner. But she guessed that didn't count as housework...