I've reached a bit of a block on this story

I've reached a bit of a block on this story. I know what happens next, I just can't seem to right it, hence the long wait for an update. I do have only two to three more chapters after this and the story will be over…I just need to get those chapters out. In the meantime, I figured I should post the last complete chapter that I do have. Hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and hopefully in September I'll have more story for you.

It Was All About Love For

By: December

Chapter 6: What a fool I'd be to start complaining now

Last time: "They didn't realize how badly things were going until it was too late….one of them thought to ask about graduation. That was an interesting dinner conversation."

"I would think so," Dr. Lawrence agreed. "For everyone. I mean, did they just randomly ask about graduation one day in May?"

"Well, Mike's father and his wife did know some people with children in the high school. And it was their alma mater after all. There might have even been some talk about Derek speaking at graduation, although I think that was just rumor. Either way, someone probably mentioned to someone that information about graduation would be coming home soon," James shrugged. "They probably noticed that they hadn't heard anything and thought to ask. It wouldn't do if it conflicted with Emily's ballet or piano recitals."

After a few beats, Dr. Lawrence asked quietly, "Do you think that's the only reason they cared about Mike's graduation?"

James tried to look as if his thoughts on that question didn't matter. Based on the look on Dr. Lawrence's face, however, he didn't think he was that successful. "Maybe that's not the only reason. But it was probably a major one. It's not like they were invested in Mike at that point. To be honest, Mike wasn't invested in Mike at that point."

"What do you mean? How could Mike not be invested in Mike?"

"Because, had he really wanted it at the time, Mike could have graduated from high school."

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As he walked out of the doors of the school, he looked for a familiar person. And Harry was right where Mike expected him to be. It would normally be a stupid place to hang out during school hours, but everyone was caught up in end of the year and graduation stuff. No one was paying any attention to what might be happening on the school steps.

"Thought you might be out here."

"Mike, bro!" Harry smiled and he got up and hand bumped Mike. "Grab some cement."

Mike sat down next to his friend and looked up to the sky for a moment. They sat in silence for awhile before gregarious Harry spoke. Not that this surprised Mike. Harry rarely could stay quiet for long periods of time.

"What I wouldn't give for a hit right now."

Mike laughed, "Yeah, uh-huh. That's a good way to get caught, smoking out in public."

"Which is the only reason that I'm not doing it. Especially since I thought I would be alone out here. Why are you out here, bro?"

"When has French ever been worth my time? Besides, everyone is going over stuff for graduation," Mike shrugged.

"Which explains why I'm not in there, because having failed almost all of my classes this school year, I'm definitely not graduating. But why aren't you listening to what you need to do to walk across a tacky stage somewhere?"

"Because I'm not graduating, either."

Harry turned and stared him down for a few minutes. Then he said, "Bullshit, Venturi. Sure, your grades kinda suck, but you could still blow this Popsicle stand with them."

Mike shrugged. "Why bother? Besides, I think Madame Davis is planning on failing me in French. So no point."

"Sure this isn't a way to hit back at your Old Man? Not having his son finish his alma mater and all?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. It was amazing how well Harry knew Mike…and what Mike would allow Harry to ask that he wouldn't have let anyone else think about asking.

"Not having his son become a hockey god hasn't really bothered him. He might be bothered that his angel is probably going to be a ballerina and not a hockey player, but little girls suck. What can you do?"

"So, you are saying that you aren't trying to damage dear old Dad?"

"I'm saying, I see no point in a piece of paper from this place," Mike insisted.

"They going to let you stay in their house without that piece of paper?" Harry asked.

Mike shrugged. "If I'm useful for their precious little angel, sure. If not, oh well, darn. But that result would be the same whether I had the paper or not."

"You realize if they decide you are useful, that will mean fewer parties."

"Ever since she was in-utero, Emily has cramped my style."

Harry laughed. "I personally think you like her," he shared. Seeing Mike's face he added, "But what's my opinion matter anyway?" After a pause, Harry posed another question, "How did the parental unit and his other half take the news that they don't need to send out graduation announcements?"

"They don't know yet."

"You let them send out announcements when you thought you weren't graduating?! Shit, man! That's fucking funny, but a little harsh."

"They haven't sent out announcements."

"The indie film director is cutting it a little close, isn't he?" Harry asked. "I mean, he is the 'great Venturi' and all, but people need notice about parties."

"Since when have we ever needed notice about parties?" Mike said as rebuttal.

"Mike. Bro. One, we are crashing parties that we usually haven't been invited to. Two, you usually don't send out invites to parties that will have tons of illegal substances at them. I mean, how in the world would an invite to a meth party even read?"

Both boys laughed for a moment, Mike partly in relief, thinking Harry had dropped the subject. But his friend hadn't completely let it go. "Bro, come on. You can run back in there. I mean, with a little butt-kissing maybe Davis will get the stick out of her ass and pass you. You can still graduate and flip them all off."

"Nah. No point."

"You really don't think there is a point?"

"You do?" he asked his friend. "Wait, are you trying to use me to show that Potheads can graduate?"

"Or something like that," Harry responded quietly. He then just looked at his friend sadly and shook his head.

"What?" Mike asked.

"Nothing, bro. Just know I'm here if things don't go the way you think."

That sentence replayed itself in Mike's head for the rest of the day. It was odd, but Mike felt a little like his decision not to graduate disappointed Harry in some way. Mike wasn't sure how or why. Harry wasn't graduating either, after all. It made Mike a little uneasy that he might be letting down his only friend in some way, but Mike was also sure that Harry would still stand by him. In the end, that was all that mattered.

After that conversation, the rest of the day was normal in a sense. It wasn't until dinner that things became strange again.

For some reason, Mike's father and Mike's father's wife always insisted that the family eat dinner together. They had insisted this since Mike came to live with them. By the time Emily was three, however, Mike was expecting to be released from the tradition. It didn't happen. If Mike was home (i.e., not cleaning out his system somewhere with Harry), he was expected to eat meals, both dinner and breakfast, with the family. Casey even tried to have conversation around the table. He never understood that, as several of their conversations had been uncomfortable in the past. Who wants indigestion with dinner, anyway?

The conversation that night took the cake, though.

It started out simply enough, "So how was your day, Emily?" Casey had asked her daughter.

Emily beamed at everyone at the table. "Great. I love third grade. And that neat math trick Mike showed me helped out a lot."

"Neat math trick?" Casey asked.

Mike shrugged. "I occasionally need a quick way to figure out weight and cost. Just passed it on."

Casey looked a little confused at his answer, but Mike thought his father knew why he might need those particular math skills. At least, given the narrowed eyes turned in his direction, Mike thought his father might have some idea.

"And, and, Glynis is having a party next week for her birthday and she invited me," Emily continued.

"Another one?" Mike's father asked.

"De-rek!"

"What? It's like the third one," Derek replied, but he sounded like he was amused, not annoyed. "Our little Emily is super popular. I wonder who she gets that from?"

Casey snorted and then laughed. "They have been a lot of parties lately. I guess it is that season. If it isn't a birthday party or an end of the school year party, it's a graduation party."

"Speaking of graduation," Mike's father re-entered the conversation, "when is yours, Mike?"

"My what?" Mike mumbled as he reached for more rolls.

"Graduation from high school. You are a senior, after all."

"You noticed?" Mike asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Michael-"

"Graduation? Is that like what I did after kindergarten?" Emily asked.

Casey laughed, "A little. But it's a bigger deal since Mike is older."

"Are we going to have a party?" Emily asked, beaming in Mike's direction.

"That's up to Mike," Casey replied.

"Might be fun, though," Mike's father shrugged. "Be nice to meet Mike's friends finally."

Mike laughed. Or at least he tried to. The sound that came out didn't quite sound like a laugh. "My friend can't be paid off to spy on me. Other than that, why would you want to meet him?"

"Michael-"

Casey sent her husband a look before she answered. "We would like to meet more of the people that are important to you. So when is graduation?"

Mike shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."

"You don't know?" Casey asked in surprise.

"You don't care? I couldn't wait to move on the next step when I was your age. How can you not care?"

"Because graduation doesn't apply to me."

"Doesn't apply to you? I don't think I understand," Casey said after a pause.

"I'm not graduating."

"What?" Derek asked.

"I'm not graduating. Failing French. Barely passing everything else." Mike shrugged.

"Oh, Mike." Casey almost whispered.

"You're sure? You can't do well on your finals and pull up your French grade? Still graduate?" Derek asked.

"I'd actually have to take my finals," Mike mumbled.

"What was that?" his father asked.

"Nothing. I just don't think there is anything that we can do. Big whoop."

Everyone was really quiet after that pronouncement. Mike thought that only Emily was quiet because she was enjoying the vegetable lasagna Casey had made for dinner, not because of the bomb he dropped.

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"Wait, Emily was an eight year old who liked vegetables?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"I know. Strange isn't it?"

"More rare than strange. I mean, I liked most vegetables as a child. Still do. My friends just thought I was a freak," Dr. Lawrence corrected with a smile.

"Well, if you ate broccoli without a fuss, can you blame them?" James asked.

"But was that the end of it?" Dr. Lawrence asked as the smile fell off of her face. "Did Derek and Casey just drop the issue of Mike's lack of graduation?"

James snorted. "Hell, no. I think they thought Mike's failure reflected badly on them in some way. Or that he would be a bad example for Emily if they didn't get him graduated. So they threw around their Venturi weight."

"What do you mean, 'threw around their weight'?"

James just shook his head. "Oh, they showed up to the school on Monday. Luckily, they didn't go looking for Mike, because he didn't show up on school property until about one that afternoon. Only went to one class. That didn't matter because his parents talked with the principal and every single one of his teachers," James laughed, although he didn't sound amused. "You do have to give them credit. They did manage to work out a minor miracle. A shame they didn't tell Mike about it. He might not have wrecked it."

Dr. Lawrence just raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay," James conceded. "If they had told him, Mike probably would have found out how to wreck it on a grander scale. He was just a little angry at what his father had tried to do. Ironically, he wasn't the only one."

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This was the weirdest Tuesday on record, in Mike's opinion. Here it was, only ten in the morning, and he had a huge headache trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe this stuff happened when you came to school on time and went to all of your classes. If he had done this for four years, he would have been happy as hell to get away.

But it was more than that, Mike knew. For the first time all year, his teachers seemed to be aware that he was in the room. They called on him. Forced him to answer questions. And, so far, each of them had asked him to stay after class, where they gave him additional assignments that he was to complete by the end of the week. It made no sense to Mike, but he took the work that was given to him.

But now it was time for his least favorite class, French. Mike still wasn't sure how he made it into this advanced French class. He figured it was because of a scheduling error someone made. He figured he ended up with Madame Davis because God hated him. Like he didn't have enough evidence of that.

He got to French just in time and sat in the back, ready to sleep through the class. But, like all of his other classes today, that didn't happen.

"Venturi," Madame Davis began, "Bonjour. Comment agreable de vous pour nous rejoindre aujourd'hui. Avez-vous vos devoirs?"

Mike stared at his French teacher. How in the world did he get noticed by her? As Madame Davis was clearly waiting for an answer, he went with the safest one. "Non."

That didn't stop the determined Madame Davis, "Savez-vous quand le Petit Prince a ete ecrit?"

Figuring he couldn't use "non" again, Mike feel back on his favorite French phrase. At least he used his favorite school French phrase. No way would he want to direct the other phrase at Madame Davis, even if other people thought she was a TILF. "Je sais rien."

"Absolument. C'est evident. Voir-moi après la classe."

Mike sighed in relief as Madame Davis returned her attention to the rest to class. The plus was he was going to be left alone for awhile. The drawback was he had to see this teacher after class, too. So much for his nap.

After class, as he sat in front of Madame Davis, she sighed as she looked at him. "First, I'm having this conversation with you in English because I want to make sure you understand me. And we could both agree that you don't understand French at all."

"I take it I'm not being asked to represent the school in a French competition," Mike smirked.

"I didn't want to do this," Madame Davis replied after a pause.

"Do what?"

"In fact, when your father initially asked me, I said no. You should fail this class. You have put in no effort at all. At least when your father was called on his grades, he actually decided to put in some effort. But you? I get the feeling you don't care."

"You taught my father?"

Madame Davis did not look pleased with that question. "I was in school with your father. I did NOT teach him."

"So you just told him to stuff it, I take it?'

"I would have," Madame Davis shared. "But Casey asked me, too. Given how long we been friends, I found I couldn't say no when she asked, so-"

"Wait. My father's wife asked you to pass me? She butted her nose into my life?!"

"Wait a minute," Madame Davis raised her voice slightly. "First, she is your stepmother and she's done a lot to take care of you. Try to show some respect. And second, I'm not just passing you," Madame Davis explained as she pushed a stack of papers and a book toward Mike. "Finish that project by next week. If you turn it in, it just might raise you to a D-. Now, don't you have a math class to get to?"

Mike only nodded and left. He was a little too angry to speak. How dare they, especially she, decide to mettle now? They hadn't cared about him since they had Emily. Couldn't they just let me make his own decisions? He didn't want these teachers to know who he was. And he didn't want to do any more work this year.

By the time he arrived home, Mike's back hurt with all of the extra work he was taking home. All of his teachers must have gotten a visit from the "great Venturi" because they were all willing to raise his grades, and even waive his finals, if he did a certain assignment or project. That just pissed him off. As he walked in the door, he heard his father call, "Mike, if you have a minute, we would like to talk with you."

Groaning, Mike put his bag down and walked toward the living room. Apparently, it was one of the rare days that both his father and his wife were home early. They were both in the living room waiting for him. They obviously wanted to talk with him about something, but they didn't know how to start. Finally, Casey asked, "How was school today?"

"I'm not doing it," Mike replied.

"Excuse me?" his father asked.

"I'm not doing it. I'm not jumping through the hoops you had setup so I can graduate. In fact I can't believe you did that."

"Michael-"

"And don't pretend that you didn't do anything. I might have believed that you didn't, until I talked with Madame Davis."

"What did she say?" his father asked.

"That she didn't want to do what you asked her." Mike answered.

His father turned to Casey. "I told you that-"

"I said she didn't want to do it," Mike interrupted, "but because your wife butted in and begged, she relented. Seems she's a friend. Who fuckin' knew?"

"Mike-" Casey began, cutting off the scolding that was about to come from his father.

"Why were you talking to the teachers anyway? I mean, I don't get why this matters to you. It's not like I'm yours or anything," Mike said to Casey.

Casey gasped at that and Mike's father jumped. "Michael, that was uncalled for! You will apologize to Casey-"

"Why?!" Mike shouted at his father as he got to his feet. "It's true! I'm not hers. If I was hers, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with."

"What do you mean by that?!"

"Let's be honest for a second, Derek, shall we?" Mike stared at his father, ignoring the angry look that flashed across his face at Mike's use of his first name. "The only way I would have been worth you giving a damn about is if I was Casey's son OR if Casey never came back into the picture so you could have continued to play house with Mom. In all honesty, it's her fault I'm a total fuck-up. Well, hers and Emily's. And yours. I mean, I had to get the genes from somewhere."

That speech had temporarily silenced his father, but Mike could clearly see that his father was very red in the face and was either try to sort through or hold back several emotions. None of them pretty.

"Michael-" Casey started.

Only to have Mike interrupt her. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Go fuck off somewhere else for the moment. Don't worry. I'm going."

As he left the room and headed for the stairs, he heard his father belated shout of "Michael!" followed by Casey, "Derek…let's let him cool down a bit, okay?"

That she was the one who suggested that Mike be given space just made Mike angrier. After Mike reached his room, he slammed his door, pulled out a bag and started packing. Halfway through packing, however, he stopped and sat down. He shook his head. His father's wife was fucking brilliant.

Casey knew Mike decently well. Derek had said this. Sally had said this. Even Mike could acknowledge this. Given how well Casey must know him, she must have known that stopping his father and leaving Mike alone would lead to Mike leaving on his own accord. "She wants me to leave. I can't be any more use to Emily and if I'm not in the house, they don't have to acknowledge my existence."

That realization solidified Mike's resolve to leave. Pulling out his cell phone, Mike dialed a familiar number.

"'lo?"

"Bro, when you said you be there if things didn't go the way I thought, did you mean it?"

"Mike? What the fuck-?"

"Did you mean it, Harry?"

"Shit, yeah, I meant it," Mike's only friend replied. "But what-?"

"I'm being kicked out of the 'Great Venturi's' house. Can I move in with you?"

"Sure, bro. If that's how thing sit."

"It is."

"Okay," Harry seemed to hesitate for a second. "But leave a note, please. I don't want Venturi to call the police and have them show up at my place. Especially given my alternative garden and my plans for a new 'lab', so to speak."

"Sure, yeah, whatever," Mike agreed before he hung up.

Mike finished packing and wrote a note to his father. It was short, basically saying that he knew his father and wife didn't really want him around, so he was going. They had his permission to pretend he didn't exist. And they also weren't supposed to look for him, if they thought they needed to for image reasons. At eighteen, he was an adult and he wasn't coming back there again. Then, picking up his bag, he quietly left his house.

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"Oh, my God," Dr. Lawrence breathed. "Poor Mike. And poor Derek and Casey."

Her response surprised him again. He was expecting the poor Mike. Up until this point, Dr. Lawrence had been amazingly pro-Mike. James, probably foolishly, thought that would continue. But the sudden about-face? "Poor Derek and Casey? So you aren't on Mike's side anymore?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Dr. Lawrence replied. Sighing, she looked at James. "I feel for the pain Mike was clearly in. And yeah, Derek should have talked with his son before rushing through the school demanding favors. But, James, I'm sorry. I'm a parent."

James blinked. "What does that have to do with this?"

Dr. Lawrence smiled sadly. "It's because I'm a parent that I react to some things like a parent. If a parent even cares a little about a child, finding that kind of note would hurt. If Imani left a note like that for me, I'd be a crying wreck for days. And my Keith? The poor man would punch a few holes in the walls out of his feelings of hurt and helplessness – and yeah, some anger at being so helpless."

"That's different, though. You and your husband love Imani."

"And Derek Venturi seemed to at least care about his son occasionally. That's enough for this to wound. I agree that Derek and Sally would not win any parenting awards, but I think they both care about Mike, in their own ways underneath all of their own baggage. I don't think this just rolled off his back."

"If it didn't, serves him right," James mumbled.

"I think you mean that," Dr. Lawrence said quietly. "Not in the way it sounds, but I think you mean that. Because, if Derek hurt, then Mike clearly meant something to him."

James remained silent.

"But, I don't understand," Dr. Lawrence began. "How does this relate to Thanksgiving with your family?"

"I'm getting to that," James answered. "I just have to tell you about the years Mike spent with Harry first."

- to be continued -