A/N: Time for a new chapter :)

So I didn't mention this last time because the A/N was long enough as it was, but the chapters (or at least the great majority of them) do not continue from the exact time the previous chapter ended. The differences could be of days, weeks, months, a year or more... Some things that happened in one chapter, though, may be mentioned and continued through recollection in a later chapter (not necessarily the next one). This and other style-related things also make most chapers stand-alone-ish, meaning there are arcs but you could skip or skim through some chapters and read later ones.

Huge thanks to everyone who had reviewed, followed, favorited and read so far. I love reviews, if you have something on your mind - let me know. Special thanks to my dear beta joyteach.

Note: This chapter (like the previous one) mentions transport lines. For those who didn't read Celebration or don't remember what the lines are - they're autonomous vehicles. There are on-call lines and lines that have set schedules and stations. There are no more private cars in California (in the story). Thank you Rick for making me realize I should mention this.

I still don't own The Big Bang Theory and anything that was created for it. I could really use the money... All I own are my 7 OCs and to some extent (this story's) Halley and Michael. They don't make me any money, but I love them dearly (but not in a creepy way).

Chapter 2: How to win?

November 2029.

[Bernadette.]

Who does she think she is?! What made her think she could say that?! She should call and order some more silicon and have it shoved in her mouth!

It's been days and I still couldn't get that stupid plastic bitch out of my mind. Cassandra Samuels. What a stuck up. It's a shame they don't have a page for parents in the kids' yearbook, she should get the title of 'Most likely to melt during her next hair bleaching'. God, I hope our kids go to different classes next year. Six years of them being in the same class are more than enough. My son Michael is fine with her son, Darryl, but they're not the best of friends. Besides, Mikey would probably be fine with losing any friend as long as he's got Riley, his BFF. She's our close friends' daughter, so not much of a risk there.

Although, that event a few days ago was for the whole grade, so different classes wouldn't have mattered. It was a talk about the transition to middle school for all of the parents of the sixth graders. My husband, Howard, went to a similar one two years ago for our daughter, Halley, but he didn't pay much attention. He doesn't think it's a big deal, he thinks we should just 'let the kids be'. That's practically his philosophy for everything that involves making the kids do things they don't want to or anything that takes (what to him is) too much effort on his part. So this time we both went.

"Mrs. Wolowitz, is that you?" the two-faced snob asked as she saw me, a surprised look on her face (causing me surprise that she's still able to make that expression).

"It's Doctor Rostenkowski Wolowitz, Ms. Samuels," I corrected, fake-smiling.

"Oh I'm sorry, I guess my astonishment made me forget, I just wasn't expecting you at an event related to your child. You know, it's usually your husband and your little plate of store-bought cookies that is always present while you're busy at work."

Howie jumped between us immediately, sensing my desire to rip that bitch's hair off. "Easy Bernie, easy… Remember we're at a school event…" He looked me in the eyes.

I took a breath, "Seems like you really care about me," I said cordially, "and like my home baked cookies."

"I care about the children and the parents of the class, all working parents, who invest their time and money in whatever is necessary for class activities while you make the least effort possible. I also care about poor Mikey, such a sweet boy with a mother who can't balance work and family and chooses herself over him," she said venomously.

That was it. I didn't care about the other parents, boo-hoo, nobody told you to make a six-story cupcake tower for a talk at school. But saying that I hurt my son?! Saying I choose myself over him?! WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?!

Yes, it's mostly Howie who goes to all this school stuff. Yes, he does the carpools. Yes, he's the one who volunteered to chaperone for the trip last year, when everybody realized we had never done that (he did eventually manage to get our friend Sheldon to replace him, after telling Sheldon there were train rides involved, but it's still us who got a chaperone so that counts). Howie was also the one to pick up the kids from daycare and preschool. But that's what we agreed on. Howie does that, and music and magic teaching, and flirting guidance for Mikey (I mostly gave up on trying to stop that, I know if I insisted, Howie would just do it when I wasn't around). I do the laundry, cooking, cleaning, bills, taxes and most of the disciplining of the kids (who am I kidding? all of the disciplining).

But I know there are those who think that if I don't clock in I'm not doing my job as a mother properly. I just have to do a lot of clocking in at work. I work late a lot. Sometimes because I'm requested to, sometimes because I have so much to do and I don't notice the time. Other times I manage to get home but have to take work calls. Does that mean I don't want to be with my family? Does that mean I don't want to just have fun time with my kids? To help them with school projects? To chaperone? Okay I don't want to chaperone, but I do want all the rest. But being a woman, and a small one with a squeaky voice at that, isn't easy at a pharmaceuticals company. There's plenty of competition inside and outside of the company.

My father taught me to be tough and not to give up on anything. Fight like a tiger, if you want to make it. All my life I had to fight to succeed. And I did. I have a prestigious job that I love and I make a butt load of money (why doesn't that count for Mom points?!). If I cut down on my hours or rejected a project, that would be giving up, that would be not fighting.

And it would again put me under scrutiny of the higher ups. I was under their scrutiny for seven years, only coming out of it, partially, about five years ago. It started when I first got pregnant, with Halley. My then boss did not dare say anything or look at me with any hint of disapproval. He was afraid of me. But I know the higher ups did not like it. Then I got pregnant again, in less than a year. I love Mikey with all my heart but we didn't plan for it, and on top of that I had to stop working early on, as I was ordered bed rest. When I got back I felt as if every little thing I did was being thoroughly inspected. The times I had to take off due to the kids' various illnesses when they were young did not help. We agreed that Howie would take time off when the kids would be sick, but most of the times he caught whatever they had a day later. I would then have to take time off to care for two or three sick children. Zanagen did offer free drugs, but I work for them, I would not give my children and husband their drugs!

So when that pretentious plastic bitch said what she said, I couldn't hold it in. I started yelling all that was on my mind. I don't even remember exactly what happened, it's like one big blur of rage. Howie said I looked like I was about to shoot fire out of my eyes.

I only stopped when the principal sent the three of us out of the hall. She then said she was sorry, but she would have to ban both Cassandra and me from any school events for the next month. That included the next basketball game, which was today.

The basketball game. That was a like a punch in the guts. I miss many of Mikey's activities, as per my arrangement with Howard, but I always do my best to get to his games.

Last year I missed his semi-finals game at the regional elementary league, getting there five minutes after it ended. After working many hours straight with no breaks to be able to get out of work at the time the game started, I got stuck in traffic. Realizing I wasn't going to get anywhere I got off the transport line almost two miles away and started running like crazy. I'm pretty sure I worked out more than some of the players in the game. When I got there and saw people leaving, I was crossing my fingers that these were people who couldn't stay for overtime. But then I saw Riley, and that sad look in those big green eyes of hers told me everything. Mikey and Howie were a few steps behind her. Always the helper, she told Mikey I got there just in time to comfort him for losing. But I knew that smile he had put on was mainly for her sake.

Missing another game would definitely be a strong punch in the gut, but I knew arguing with Ms. Perzzi wouldn't help.

The morning after the Cassandra fiasco I got a text from my friend Penny, Riley's mom. 'I heard you got into a fight with Cassie Samuels', I read and sighed. Howie can't keep anything to himself. 'Are you okay? I can talk to her if you want.

Penny's younger daughter, Sophie, is in the same class as Cassandra's younger son. They weren't friends, but Penny did get on well enough with her. That wasn't a big surprise, Penny has good people skills. And Cassandra probably loves her because she's there for whatever there is that involves her kids, unless she's not allowed to. She definitely cannot cook or bake. The only way she's better than Howard at this is her being able to produce the shape of foods (taste and texture are another story). It is her husband Leonard who is in charge of that, and sometimes the girls (with Penny 'supervising'). But Penny willalways volunteer to take part in school activities and will be chaperone in each and every little trip.

But that's Penny, I mean, I love the woman, but she's mom-crazed. It's funny, when we met she was a total commitment-phobe. She broke up with Leonard because of that and was a total mess. She was still mostly playing it cool and nonchalant after they got back together and got married, but when she first got pregnant it all shattered. We thought all that gushing about pregnancy and her family would be over after she gave birth, but boy were we wrong. She's still cool and fun but motherhood acts on her like a powerful drug. With the amount of pictures and videos she has of her kids, one might think she was spying on them. She's got a full flash drive with just pictures of them sleeping, I swear! She would show it to you proudly if you'd only ask. She also calls Riley whenever she's at our place, saying she's missing her. And you know how sometimes kids have difficulties separating from their parents when going to preschool or first grade? Well, apparently parents can have them too. On Sophie's first day at school they had to call Leonard to pick Penny up.

If I were like Penny I would not be able to keep my job. No way. Penny works in the promotion team of Caltech (same place Howie works at as an engineer). There's plenty she can do at home, and her higher ups are very lenient with her because she's better than most of their employees. They've told her many times they would promote her if she worked more hours and took more work upon herself, but she's refused them every time. Now she's about to leave because her husband is becoming vice president there, even though they're not making her do so. I can't imagine myself doing things like that. I love my job, and keeping stagnant or taking a step back is just like quitting. I am not a quitter. I am a fighter.

But fighters also need someone to vent to. Penny was obviously not a good choice in that matter. Another close friend of mine, Amy, wouldn't be either. Amy is a respected neurobiologist, but she's got a child with autistic spectrum disorder and a Sheldon (the latter arguably more demanding). Her struggles are different from mine. Also, people who know that would never criticize her motherhood. It's a good thing I have Anaya. Sure, she only has one child, but she's a career woman, running her own Indian heritage center, and she believes in hard work. So the day after the incident I found myself stopping by the Koothrappali home.

"Ugh Plastic Bitch!" Anaya shared my frustration, after I finished sharing my story with her. We were sitting in their rather small, yet highly accessorized kitchen. Digital stove, bread-maker, ice-cream machine mixed with wooden chairs, table and counters and a big fabric poster of some Hindu goddess. That's Anaya and Raj for you.

"I know!" I retorted.

There was a moment of silence, both of us taking sips from our chai.

"So…this Samuels woman has a son in Michael's class and another in Sophie's…Is there another one, maybe younger than that?" she asked, "innocently", taking another sip.

"Calm down, she won't be a problem for you," I said, rolling my eyes at her.

"Hey, I'm just trying to paint a picture of the family!" she raised her hands defensively.

I sighed, "What am I gonna do? I can't miss another one of Mikey's games!"

"Well, you know what I say when a superior goal is involved - Work for it. Do whatever you can to make sure you get there. You know, Hindus believe our children are gifts from God. Caring for them is our way of thanking the deity."

"Then why did you only have one gift?" I asked suspiciously. I actually know the answer, I just wanted to push the Hindu goody-two-shoes into a corner. Raj, her husband, who had been Howard's best friend years before he met her, had told us the reason. Anaya was one of four children living in a poor family. She didn't want to have to split earnings and prioritize among her own children, and also wanted to be able to invest time and money in her center. Raj was fine with it, seeing it as an opportunity to spoil his only child as much as he could. That is, as much as he could without his wife knowing.

"Be..cause you should treat a gift from God the best you can. You know, take care of it like an expensive festive sari you wash by hand and iron gently, not your husband's many sweaters you just throw in the washing machine hoping some of them get torn by mistake…"

I chuckled lightly, both at her ability to bend her faith's principles to fit her own good (which she shared with her husband) and her grievance with the many ugly sweaters he would wear in layers, here in California, all year long.

"So what do I do?" I asked.

Anaya was about to speak, when her six-year-old, Dakota, entered the kitchen, where we were.

"Mummy! Mummy!" she called, seeming upset, "The purple marker with the glitter is not working!"

"Then use another color, Sugar," Anaya answered.

"I can't do that, I already started painting the princess' dress glittery purple!"

"So now it would have two colors, the more the merrier!" Anaya smiled, trying to sell it.

"But then it wouldn't match the prince's tie, it is purple, not purple and another color!"

"Wait a minute, don't you have another purple marker?"

"Yes, but it's purple."

Anaya looked at her daughter questioningly.

"It's not glittery purple!"

Anaya sighed. "You know what, Sugar? I bet Daddy has a great idea for solving your dress crisis!" she finally said. Raj did solve my dress crisis once with his emergency sewing kit he always carries around (I've learned not to ask questions).

I smirked at Anaya, the moment Kotie ran out the door.

"She's his gift too" she defended again. She and Raj are a good match indeed.

Anaya may not always follow her own convictions, but she did have a point. So after our conversation I set my mind to working to convince Ms. Perzzi to let me in for the game.

I like Ms. Perzzi. She's considerate, non-judgmental, and she lets me punish Howie whenever he screws up at school events (which happens more than you'd think). She's usually understanding toward me, and she never implied Howie and I were lesser parents for having him be the one who's more present. Feisty Bernadette can bring big-shots to their knees, but in these cases I'd turn my sweet on.

And I turned it ON. I called Ms. Perzzi again and again, sucking up to her, begging and fake-crying. Finally, when I went to her office this morning, she caved.

This is why I had to get Bleachandra Samuels off my mind. I got to work late today, and I made calls to Ms. Prezzi during my work-lunch and extra hours yesterday, so I had more work than usual. It felt like a race against time. I even considered taking the company's new drug that stalls peeing, but I didn't want my saliva green for the weekend.

I know how to fight, I'm a tiger. I know how to work my ass off, I'm a badass. I know how to keep up, to never give up, I'm not a quitter and not a settler. I know how to win. At one thing. I know how to win a battle, but I don't know how to win multiple battles simultaneously. There's a reason I didn't perform juggling as my special talent at pageants. How do I do this? How do I win when there is so much going on at the same time? How do I keep one pin from falling while I handle the rest?

At five pm it felt like my head was going to explode and I heard my stomach growling like those of the subjects in our anti-appetite pill trial. But I did it. I finished my work, just in time to leave for Mikey's game.

I ran to the transport line I'd called, grabbing a jar of cookies from the kitchen at work on my way and stuffing a handful into my mouth. The ride was going well, I was even going to get there ten minutes early, and for the first time be the one who saved the seats for Howie and Riley, and Halley (if she does come this time, unless it's an important game she keeps her decision about coming to the last minute). Suddenly I noticed a block of lines in front of me.

"Son of a…!" I groaned loudly. I joined the honking chorus, to no avail. The road was blocked. Winter-lovers' rights parade. Ugh, stupid California.

I got off and started running, only to stop after a few feet. I couldn't, I just couldn't, I had no energy left. So I walked. As fast as I could. I wasn't as fast as I wanted to be, but I kept up a steady pace.

It felt like it'd been hours, but in reality I was less than a mile and a half away. When I finally got to the school gate I checked the time. 17:42, three minutes to the game. I smiled big, 'Just in time', I thought.

That smile didn't last long, as I soon heard that voice, "So when it's about your son possibly winning something you do have time, Interesting."

I turned to look at Cassandra, wishing I really could shoot fire at her with my eyes. Her son wasn't even on the team, but she still came to sit outside the school, clearly trying to make a statement of her devotedness.

I had so much to tell her. So much. But seeing people making their way to the court, I realized something. I didn't mind dropping that pin. It did bother me, a lot. But I didn't mind dropping that pin, in favor of a much more important one. So I turned away and dashed to the court, using the last bits of energy I had left in me.

At 17:45 I sat down next to Riley, Howard, and Halley, breathing hard, but smiling widely. I made it.

This time.