Chapter 11 – The Trouble With School

Davis takes the paper and boots me out of the office while he calls Esme. As I sit and wait my stomach starts hurting…this is the last thing I need after the weekend I've just had! And okay, he's not wrong about all the warnings and 'discussions' he's had with me, but it's not like I cause a lot of trouble or anything. I'm behind on a few assignments and the grades on things I've handed in have been pretty much rubbish, but I've only cut a couple of days and, well, a few classes here and there…

"I've missed that many days?"

Davis has called me back in after a lengthy wait cooling my heels in the outer office, and handed me my attendance record. Even I'm pretty surprised when I see how many absences there are.

"Yes, and none of them excused."

I don't answer that. Momma can't even remember what day it is half the time, she's not going to remember to call the absence line at school even when I have a decent excuse. And some of those days I was sick or Alice was sick, or Mark had had a go at me and I had stayed home to avoid questions.

"It's just not good enough Emmett, and it leads straight to the other problems. You miss too much instruction time, you don't put in the effort required to catch up, and so your grades suffer. Even when you're here, you're simply not doing the work and your teachers have had enough of it. You've scraped through in previous years, but even at this early point in the year I don't think it's going to be possible for you to pass junior year." Davis shakes his head. "You're even failing gym."

"That's because that little dictator drops your grade if you don't bring your gym uniform, and I don't have…"

"It's not time for excuses now, Emmett."

I grind my teeth. Okay, I'm a dumbass and deserve most of my failing grades, but failing gym is just flat out not fair. The asshole coach drops your grade if you forget your gym uniform, and I don't have one anymore. I've grown so much since I got it freshman year that it's practically a crop top and speedos now, so it's not even like I can just squeeze into it. And I'm down to two pairs of socks without holes and three pairs with holes that I can't find money to replace, so there's certainly none for even a second hand gym uniform. But it's not like anyone ever listens, so I scowl obstinately and don't even try to explain. I know there's no point.

Davis hands me another printout, this time of my grades. I'm not really surprised, but it's still pretty bleak to see it all there in black and white. I've scraped a B in art class, but apart from that I'm failing everything.

"You can see it's not good, Emmett," he says.

Before I can say anything, his phone buzzes and he answers. "Yes…send them in."

I'm expecting Esme and that's bad enough, but when she comes into the office accompanied by Carlisle and Alice I want to run from the room. What the hell?

Alice comes and climbs on my lap, and at least by wrapping my arms around her I stop myself from biting on my hands.

"What did you do?" she breathes, eyes wide. "It's the principal, Emmett!"

"Mr Davis, I'm Esme Cullen, and this is my husband Dr Carlisle Cullen. We've taken over guardianship of Emmett for the time being, until his mother is able to resume custody. I placed a call to your school early this morning to discuss the change of circumstances today, and was hoping to hear from you."

"I haven't got the messages yet, so we'll have to discuss it now." Davis looks mildly uncomfortable.

All the adults shake hands and sort out chairs, and I squirm in my seat and wish I were small enough to hide behind Alice.

"Thank you for coming in today," Davis starts in. "I'm afraid it's all rather unfortunate timing, given the circumstances, but this situation has to be addressed. Unless there's a firm date for when I'll be able to speak to his mother, I think we need to deal with it now."

He waits, and Esme shakes her head. "The arrangement is open-ended at the moment; we'll have guardianship for the foreseeable future."

"Okay then. To be blunt, for Emmett to have any possibility of passing the eleventh grade there needs to be a drastic change in his attitude. His current level of attendance and completion of work is just not enough." He passes my attendance record and grades across to the Cullens, who scan them silently.

I reach over and yank the papers out of Carlisle's hand. "Look, this is NOT your problem. You're helping me and Alice out, but this crap isn't part of the deal." I am so furiously embarrassed I can't even look at them.

"Don't get upset," Esme says gently.

"Emmett, something has to be done," Davis says, clearly frustrated. "It was borderline whether you'd even be allowed to continue at school here with this record. We've bought it down to suspension, to give you a final chance to see that it's serious and change your attitude!"

I hold up my hands in surrender. "Well maybe I should just quit right now and save us all the trouble? I mean, I'm an idiot, everyone knows that…"

"Let's hold it there." Carlisle puts up a hand to stop me. "Mr Davis, thanks for calling us in. Obviously we're not familiar with Emmett's school performance just yet. Whilst I'm not really sure that suspension is a reasonable consequence here, considering what Emmett has going on in his home life right now, I think we'll accept it and Esme and I will take Emmett home now and have a chat about what's been going on. As Esme said, we're not sure how long he'll be with us, but I can see that this has to be addressed now so we'll be in touch again once we've talked it through with him."

Carlisle can certainly defuse a situation. Davis nods and everyone stands up and says goodbye and then I'm being steered firmly out of the office and into the hallway.

"Where is your locker?" Carlisle asks me. "We'll get your books so we can go through your assignments and work out what we need to do."

"You don't have to do that," I mutter, adding honestly. "Actually…I'd kind of prefer it if you didn't."

I'm not exactly joking but Esme and Carlisle laugh anyway, which is a little reassuring. I am beyond embarrassed and pissed off that on practically the first day they're in charge I get them called into school to deal with my crap, but at least they're not too mad about it.

"Let's get your books anyway," Carlisle says cheerfully. "It's my day off, and what better way to spend it than catching up on the current eleventh grade curriculum?"

There's hardly anything in my locker anyway. All the textbooks were so expensive that all I have are the math and science ones, old copies given to me by my teacher when he saw I didn't have any. As well as those, my locker holds a baseball, a copy of the English novel I'm supposed to be reading that I borrowed from the library and currently owe five dollars and forty cents in overdue fines on, and a whole lot of paper. Returned assignments and failed quizzes mixed in with piles of drawings and letterings and notes in my scribbly handwriting, and I start shuffling it into a pile so I can fit it in my backpack.

Alice takes the novel and looks at it. "To kill a…m…m…mo…something…bird," she sounds out. "What's that word say?"

"You can already read better than me, Monkey," I say.

At the same time, Esme says, "It says 'mockingbird' Alice. To Kill a Mockingbird…it's one of my favourite books. Do you like it, Emmett?"

"I haven't got that far in it yet," I say, snatching it off Alice and stuffing it recklessly into my bag. I shove the textbooks back in and slam the locker door. "Let's get out of here."

Back at the Cullens' house, Carlisle settles Alice at the coffee table in the living room with her markers and a colouring book while Esme makes some coffee. Then the two of them sit at the kitchen table, and I reluctantly pull out a chair and join them. There's a long silence.

"So…would I be correct in assuming that school is not your happy place?" Carlisle says at last.

"You got me." I can't help laughing. The whole situation is mortifying, but it's not as though me being a failure at school is anything new. "Look, I'm really sorry about you having to come down to school and all, but you really don't have to do anything here…"

"I think while you're here with us we may as well at least look into what's going on," Esme says. "We might be able to help."

I can't help but make a face. "I've been flunking out of school since kindergarten…good luck with that."

"So it's not new? Having trouble with your grades?" Carlisle asks. He looks at the list of grades and attendance, which is lying on the table between us. "And your attendance…is there a reason you're cutting so much school?"

"I didn't know it was so much," I admit. "I mean, sometimes I just didn't go, but I was sick a few days and Alice had the flu for over a week and sometimes…you know. Stuff happens."

Carlisle nods. "Okay. Look, truancy is pretty common when home life is difficult, and what's done is done. While you're with us you'll be expected to go every day, and we'll support you in doing that. As for your grades…" he pauses. "What's going on there?"

I shift uncomfortably on my chair. I'm starting to sweat…I hate this. "I'm just a dumbass, that's all."

"Is it the work that's difficult?" Esme wants to know. "Or is it just being organised with your assignments and homework?"

"Well…I'm not that organised," I mutter. "But it's not just that."

"May I have a look at your notebook? Do you have a school planner?" Carlisle asks.

I don't have a planner, and it's really reluctantly that I hand over my binder. It's a mess, paper jammed in every which way and drawings and scribbles interspersed with scrawled school notes. Carlisle flips through it, his eyes scanning everything quickly, a slight frown beginning to form.

"Do you think there's anything in particular that causes you trouble?" he asks.

"Everything," I mutter. "I'm just plain stupid."

Carlisle is looking at my papers again, more slowly this time, Esme leaning over to look too. "Have you always struggled?" she asks.

"I told you, I've been barely passing since kindergarten."

"Do you know why?" Carlisle persists.

They're obviously not going to just give this up. My ears are burning with embarrassment as I take a deep breath and say roughly, "Look…I'm stupid. Slow. I didn't even learn to read properly until like third grade, and I'm still shit at it. So I appreciate that you want to help and all, but I pretty much just suck at school and that's it." I lean back in my chair and fold my arms.

Carlisle and Esme don't seem fazed by my borderline rudeness. The just nod, like what I've said makes sense, and then Carlisle asks, "Were you ever tested for learning disabilities?"

"I don't know," I run a hand through my hair. "Don't they just test you all the time? I'm always failing things…I think the teachers mostly just let me go to the next grade because they were sick of me."

Esme laughs. "I hope you don't think we're really coming down on you Emmett. But with all your troubles at school, and it taking you longer than usual to learn to read, it seems like assessments should have been done to get the root of the problem."

"Look, maybe there were? My grandma used to go up to school and talk to my teachers, and Momma did some too when I was in elementary school." I shrug. I don't remember any more than that.

"I'll ask Mr Davis about it when I call him back," Carlisle says. "It sounds as if there really should have been some testing done, so it might be in your records. I'll ask him what the school is going to do to help you get back on track to graduate with your class. Next time you talk to your mom you could ask her about whether there were any assessments done too." He looks frustrated. "There should have been more done for you, just looking through your notebook I can see...but sometimes kids fall through the cracks, especially if they don't have a strong advocate."

I slump a little further in my chair. This is all too much…my whole life has been turned upside down and while they have the best intentions in the world, it's like Carlisle and Esme are taking over. And it's all so pointless…I'm just so fucking dumb that nothing they can do will make any difference. Especially since I'll be going back home to Momma as soon as possible, and she for damn sure doesn't give a shit about school.

"Can we stop with this now?" I say wearily. "I suck at school. I'm sorry I got suspended and you got dragged into it. If you want me to leave I can figure something out…"

"We don't want you to leave!" Esme exclaims. "We're more than happy to have you and Alice staying here until you can go back home."

"We just want to help," Carlisle adds. "School is a big part of your life, and if we can figure out how you can get the most out of it then I think that will be a good thing. Not everyone is academic, but in today's world you really need a high school diploma."

"I get that, but…" My words trail off.

"It's okay," Carlisle says. "We'll give it a rest for now...we can talk more after I've spoken to your principal and see what he has to say."

I don't wait, but hurriedly get up and go to find Alice. She's colouring in a page of birds and I take a marker and sit beside her. "Hey."

"Hi." She gives me a purple marker and points to a toucan. "You can colour him. Don't you have to go to school anymore?"

I start in on the bird. "Not for a couple of days. Which seems pretty dumb…I don't go to school, so they suspend me and make me miss more school…but at least now I can stay here with you." I draw a knitted cap and scarf on the toucan.

"Is Mommy coming today?"

I sigh. "No. She can't come to the Cullens, so we won't see her for a little while, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Alice frowns, carefully colouring each feather on a parrot a different colour. "Is she still mad at me for being sick?"

"It's not your fault," I say again. "Momma won't be mad at you."

I keep colouring with Alice until she complains of a headache and lies down on the sofa. She asks me to read her a story, but the last thing I feel like doing after a morning discussing my stupidity is reading, so I make up a story instead. Alice falls asleep within five minutes, so I guess it was appropriately boring and I'm pretty relieved I don't have to actually think up too many plot points.

"Is she asleep again?" Carlisle asks from the doorway. "I was just coming in to say it's time for lunch."

I get to my feet. "Is it okay that she's sleeping so much? She doesn't usually nap at all."

"She's recovering from a pretty serious neurological event and sleep is good for healing. We're keeping an eye on her, but so far I'm not worried," Carlisle answers. "Come and have some lunch."

There are sandwiches for lunch, with cold meat and salad and about twelve different condiments to go on them. It's definitely not the pb&j that I slap together for Alice sometimes.

The food is great, but it doesn't work its usual magic in cheering me up and once I'm done I wander out to the backyard. It's well kept, with a patio and a grill, some trees and flowers and a birdbath, but it's surrounded by a six foot privacy fence and there isn't really anywhere to go. I sit down on the back step, biting my knuckles and staring morosely out into the yard.

Why does it all have to be so HARD?