September
"Sully, have you seen this?" exclaimed Michaela, thrusting a piece of paper towards him.
"What is it?" he asked, leaning into the wall to avoid being run over by a gaggle of fifth graders making their way to homeroom. It was the first day back after summer vacation and the halls were heaving with hoards of students, clustering around their lockers or else fighting to get to their classes.
"It's my timetable," she groaned, "they've split us up!"
"No way!" he breathed, snatching the sheet and examining it closely.
"Great," said Michaela bitterly, "now I'll have to face math, spanish and science on my own."
"Hey we still have English together," offered Sully gently but Michaela was not to be appeased. She merely grabbed the sheet of paper and stuffing it into her binder, turned her back on him before he could see her devastated expression.
"I'll see you at lunch," called Sully at the retreating figure but she never turned around.
As the bell finally rang to signal the end of the day, he breathed a huge sigh of relief and chucking his notes and pencil case higgledy piggledy into his backpack, he sprinted to the door. She hadn't come down to lunch at all though he'd waited til there were just five minutes left and he'd had to run flat out to make it to his next class on time. When he'd arrived in English, her usual seat was still empty and he'd instantly thrown his bag on it to reserve it for her. But when she'd arrived, she had blithely ignored his attempts to get her attention and dropped into a seat right at the front. The hurt was no doubt evident on his face and for a good ten minutes, he had had no idea what the teacher was talking about.
Making his way through the chattering crowds ambling towards the exit, he steeled himself for the argument that was undoubtedly coming. He would risk it though: to know what was wrong, why she hadn't come to sit by him. A group of girls walked past him and recognising a blonde girl who used to sit in front of him in math last year, he headed to the classroom she'd just left. His heart sank as he surveyed the empty room: she'd already gone.
"Phew," chuckled Joseph, grabbing the silver hat and plonking it down on "Go".
"Nice try Dad," grinned Michaela, grabbing the piece and moving it back a square, "three and two make five. Pay up."
"Ugh," groaned Joseph, reaching for the stack of hundred dollar bills he'd painstakingly collected, "how much?"
"Hmmm, four houses on Boardwalk," mused Michaela, bending over the small square to check the price, "its not gunna be pretty."
The first week of school had finally drawn to a close and as Joseph had the weekend off work, he'd suggested they do something to celebrate. He knew Michaela had been dying to visit the new library that had opened up just off the interstate and he'd gone to bed on Friday night thoroughly prepared to be roused at some ungodly hour in the morning by an overexcited thirteen year old. However, he'd already showered and dressed by the time she'd come padding down the stairs in her most threadbare pyjamas and furry socks. She had barely registered his cheerful greeting as she'd helped herself to some cereal and settled down in front of the television. It wasn't hard to guess the reason for her apathy; Sully hadn't called again since Wednesday and his absence on a sunny Saturday morning was deeply telling. They'd had fights in the past, petty squabbles that for the most part they'd manage to work out for themselves. It was only to be expected with two friends who practically lived out of each others pockets but they'd never gone so long without any contact and Joseph was worried. He had mulled over various ways to broach the subject with Michaela, knowing full well that one wrong move and she'd pull out the ultimate Quinn defence mechanism: total isolation. Finally, he'd resorted to pulling out the battered old board game in the hope that Michaela's competitive spirit coupled with the opportunity to completely bankrupt him would provide a suitable opening for a discussion.
"So," he began slowly, fingering the creases in a faded fifty dollar note, "you talk to Sully yet?"
Michaela's frown deepened but she continued to stare silently at the card in front of her.
"I'll take that as a no then," sighed Joseph, shifting his leg into a more comfortable position, "Mike, you can't keep ignoring him."
"It's not his fault you two got split up," he added when his daughter failed to respond.
"He ratted me out to you?" spat Michaela, sitting up and flipping her hair angrily over her shoulder.
"He didn't rat you out," explained Joseph calmly, "he called and you wouldn't speak to him. He was upset and worried that's all."
Michaela merely scowled deeply and drawing her knees up to her chest, fixed her fierce glare on the plastic hotels scattered across the carpet.
"We've always been able to talk about everything, Mike," sighed Joseph, watching the emotions flicker across his daughter's face.
"Michaela?" he encouraged, reaching across to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. His touch seemed to thaw her out and with a sigh, she dropped her head onto her knees.
"I hate them," she murmured.
"Who?" queried Joseph, his brow rising in concern.
"The girls in my class," explained Michaela softly, turning her cheek to her knees so that she could meet his gaze.
"At first I was mad cos I got split up from Sully but I knew it wasn't his fault. But then I heard them talking."
"What were they saying?" probed Joseph.
"They'd tease me about my work, call me a know-it-all and a show off. I tried to ignore them cos I know they're just jealous."
Michaela rolled her eyes and Joseph grinned at her but her answering smile faded quickly.
"When they saw I was ignoring them, they started talking about Sully. They said Sully'd want a friend who was pretty and wore skirts and that I was too much of a tom boy and a geek to keep him interested."
"Ah," breathed Joseph in understanding, "so that explains the sudden disappearance of my shaving kit."
Michaela merely nodded sadly and rolling up her jeans, displayed the several healing cuts that attested to her run in with the razor.
"I guess I don't know how to do it properly," she mumbled.
Joseph sighed and shuffled round the board to place his arm around his daughter's hunched shoulders.
"Mike," he began kindly, rubbing her arms gently, "you never should've listened to those girls. They're just petty and mean. You have a great friend in Sully and he doesn't care how you look, you know that. Remember the acrylic paint?"
Michaela gave a half choked laugh and leant against her father's chest as she too recalled the wretched science poster that had left a good two inches of her hair coated in fuschia pink paint that had refused to wash out. There had been no alternative but to chop off the offending bit leaving the right side of her head horribly out of proportion with the left.
"You're far too young to be worrying about shaving your legs or wearing make up," continued Joseph, "and as for having a friend who happens to be a boy, look at me and your mother."
"What do you mean?" asked Michaela, shifting so that she could look up at his face.
"Well, we were best friends for three years at college before she realised what a stud I was and asked me out," chuckled Joseph, winking at his daughter.
"Sure Dad," laughed Michaela, "want me to ring Mom up and verify that?"
"Ok so I asked her out," conceded Joseph with a grin, "but that's not the point."
"I know," sighed Michaela, "I guess I was just being stupid. I never should have yelled at Sully like that. D'you think he'll forgive me?"
"I dunno," replied Joseph gravely, "you chewed him out pretty bad the last time."
As Michaela's face fell, he grinned and tossing the phone into her lap added, "If you grovel, he might just make it over in time for lunch."
