This isn't something I normally do, but I wanted to quickly add a "thank you," onto this chapter for DQRS guy, who pointed out a formatting issue.

Chapter 41: Reprimands

Johnny's POV

The lady didn't take my chair when I jumped out of it. She smelt of preppy – literally, it was the perfume they advertise on tv with some long-legged broad jumping into a lake in the night and coming out on the back of a unicorn (who writes this crap?). Her coat was Aquaberry. Her watch was Aquaberry. Her sleeve slipped, her wrist was Aquaberry. We all bruise the same, however much money you got. She didn't seem to notice it though, she was busy glaring at Crabblesnitch.

"Don't just look at me, Sir," she said with her clipped, phony accent. "I want to know what's been going on."

"I'm as appalled as you are, Madam, at these goings on," he started, taking on a slower, sadder tone – clearly trying to be a human being. "How is Tad? Has he woken up yet?"

"He has," she sniffed, "and he had plenty to say about this school to me. I did think that, now you were here, it might have changed from twenty years ago but clearly – Sir, I am speaking," she shot as he tried to interrupt her, "that this is still a place to turn boys into thugs."

"Now now, I think you're being a little hard on the boy, Mrs Spencer," he stammered, his hands straightening the papers on his desk. "I don't doubt the boy has learned his lesson about fighting on school grounds."

"Oh, you know there's more to it than that." A paper bag clanked onto his desk. "Look what I found when I went to get his things." Her hand dipped into the bag and pulled out an empty bottle. "Whiskey." She clanked it down. "Whiskey." Another bottle clanked besides it. "Oh, and would you look at that – Sir, perhaps you can guess this one?"

"Why I - "

"Yes, Sir," she scowled, clanking the bottle down. "More whiskey. In a boy's bedroom. And now my question is why not one teacher noticed him drinking like this or saw fit to notify me. Why is that, Sir?"

Crabblesnitch's eyes were big like scotch-glasses.

"Good heavens, I had no idea."

"Clearly, you don't have an idea about a lot of what happens at this school, Sir." Her voice shook a little as she spoke. She tucked her hair back with a shaky hand. "I let Tad move into dormitories so he'd have a safe place to be while I arranged an alternative, and now I wonder what the point was! How much is it those rooms cost again? Ten thousand dollars, was it? Something like that? And not one cleaner noticed these? Not one person checked on my fifteen year-old son?" Shit. She was using the mom tone. Like the "found your cigarettes" voice. Poor bastard.

"I… This is awful! Mrs Spencer, I'm so sorry."

"Ms Taylor," she corrected. "Which you would know if you'd read my emails properly when I sent them. You told me in his last report that Tad was doing well, that he was thriving, exercising, participating in extracurriculars."

"He is indeed in a boxing group."

"And look how that turned out."

"Gnawing her fingernails, Bea glanced at me. He couldn't still expel us if this broad killed him, I guessed.

"You," the woman continued, "should be well aware by now what kind of men Harrington House breeds - the sort of lowbrow thugs they end up turning into. So now you're going to fix it. You're going to give me the papers from my sons admittance and they're going in the trash can. You're going to give me the money back for his dormitory fees and if you don't, I will be having some very interesting conversations with Louise Herrington as well as my brother and cousins."

"That won't take long, same people," I whispered to Bea. She tried to steer her giggle into a frown and ended up quacking.

"Is something funny to you, Miss Trudeau?"

"No! Um…" She looked at the woman. "Ms Taylor, the reason this whole thing happened is because of – "

"That won't be necessary, Beatrice."

The woman raised her hand; the wrist dropped down her bony wrist.

"Yes it will," she said, turning to Bea expectantly. Quietly, Bea straightened herself up.

"Tad and his friends beat up my friend, Bucky, and he went to hospital with a compound fracture and concussion. I told Dr Crabblesnitch when it happened, but he didn't want to bother Mr Herrington with it."

The words sputtered out. I could half-see the cogs sputtering in the lady's head as she turned back to Crabblesnitch. Her voice shook like a broken engine.

"So you didn't think that was worth mentioning to me when I called?"

"I… didn't think the boy should have his reputation muddied over some tomfoolery."

"Tomfoolery is starting a food fight, Doctor. Breaking an arm is not." She pressed a hand over her face. "My Tad…" She rustled through her bag and pulled out a shiny phone. That was probably Aquaberry, too. Her long fingernails meant she had to type with a knuckle. As she pressed the phone to her ear, Crabblesnitch shoved his chair back and stood up.

"Ms Taylor, you're clearly very upset, why don't we-?"

"Louise!" A fake happiness sprang through her voice as the the phone Mumbled. Hello again, dear, are you free for a minute? What was that, sorry? I'm sorry, dear, the connection's a little - "

"Ms Taylor, this is totally unnecessary."

"Not now, Dr Crabblesnitch, I'm on the phone. Sorry, dear, what was that? Pardon? I'm sorry, darling, I'm going to send you a text, it's important that you read it." As the call beeped out, Crabblesnitch sprinted around his desk.

"Ms Taylor, please, I'll happily clamp down on these problems."

"How, Sir? How do you intend to fix this?"

"By being stricter, look: from now on, anyone found fighting on campus is immediately expelled and anyone who aggravated your son – anyone who was there, in fact – will be expelled immediately."

"What, all thirty of 'em?" I asked.

"Johnny! This is not the time to be interjecting. Both of you, get out and… "He looked around the room for an excuse. "A-ha! And go clean the graffiti on the side of the school gates. You're both suspended for a month, now off you go and let me and Ms Taylor sort this out in peace!"