Disclaimer: My Prerogative is actually sung by Britney Spears.

AN: Thank you very much, Rissa and NAISY- if it weren't for your encouraging reviews I would not have proceeded to this chapter in a hurry.

Chapter 2

"Hey Mr. Verona," Kat greeted, entering the house with Patrick by her side.

"Caitlyn," he said, not looking up from his newspaper "good to see ya again. Patrick, my boy, come here and let your old man show you a fab new tattoo he applied on to the bottom of his right foot."

"Another one?" Patrick groaned "Kat you can just go right into my room. I'll be-"

"No no," Kat grinned, setting her guitar down by a coffee table. "I wanna see your father's tattoo as well."

"And now, presenting..." Mr. Verona began "the golden S.U.V." he held his foot right up so that they saw a picture of an S.U.V. carved onto his flesh.

"Interesting, dad." Patrick said, in an obvious dull tone "but you should spend greens more carefully. You've been throwing everything away on a new tattoo every week."

"Ahh... lighten up, lad." The dad growled "what's a life when you can't have fun? We don't exist merely to find a place to sleep in and fill our bellies. And I didn't put one on last week- did I? So there."

"What's a life when you've got skin cancer..." Kat began "and when your flesh begins hurting because you've been playing around with it, with I would call dangerous art, Mr. Verona?"

Mr. Verona merely waved his hand "if my skin hurts I'll cope with the pain. Cigars and alcohol weren't invented for nothing. As for skin cancer, if I die, whatever's waiting for me up there is better than what I have here?"

"Where did the vase and the woman portrait go?" Patrick asked, looking around the lounge.

"Needed the money so I sold 'em," he answered uneasily "ah what's two bloody decoratives when you're a content guy, eh?"

"Whatever." Patrick huffed. "C'mon Kat."

"In a hurry to go hit it now, aren't we?" he laughed "Ya I would too, if I hadn't done it in a long time either, son."

"Just ignore him," Patrick told Kat as she picked up her guitar and headed to his room "he's a bit of a lunatic."

"I can see where your characteristic chromosomes come from then. Kidding. Well I guess there are three types of parents," Kat said, slouching on his bed "the ones like my father whom are over-protective... then again there are the ones like your dad who are so laid back they'd simply go like 'too bad' if they found out that you've gotten murdered or something... and of course the parents in the third category are the normal ones who lye in between the first and the second classifications."

"I agree, smartass," Patrick said, lying down on the floor across her with a cushion supporting his head "my mum falls in the third one, that's for sure... I never imagined saying this, but I miss her, man."

"I miss my mother too." Kat said miserably "she left three years ago... and she was normal too. She would convince father not to be so strict with us, that is to say Bianca and I... anyway she annulled her marriage to father, became a prostitute and apparently moved to Jamaica. We haven't heard from her ever since. For all we know she could be dead. Her behavior shocked us so we've slowly gotten over it all as opposed to following right on our asses when she walked out on us."

"I'm sorry to hear that..." Patrick said sympathetically "and I'm glad you can talk about it bravely. The girls I used to date would get all emotional over sensitive topics and would blubber all over me. I wouldn't mind if they did it once in a while but Jesus- they did it 24/7."

"No kidding, you'd actually found girls who liked you?" Kat said, smirking. "Oh right, of course you did; they're the gothic ones who sat on the back of the class, dribbling all over their desks and figuratively picking their noses and flashing their bosoms hoping anyone would notice them..."

Patrick threw a comb at her.

"Thanks," she said, taking it after it was unsuccessfully aimed at her head and brushed her hair by the mirror "so... what's the story with your mum?"

"I told her I would prefer living with my dad," Patrick groaned "she made my life hell; she'd bring in strange men all the time and they'd get drunk and all sorts of shit happened. I'd prefer not to discuss it."

"Understandable," Kat sighed, picking her guitar and taking a seat on a couch "anyway... I want to play you this song I've been composing for the past three years, I want someone's view on it. Someone other than angel Bianca who thought it was too 'misanthropistish'. I've decided to go for a rocky r&b sound for a change. But it's still angry-girl music, mind you."

"I'm all ears," Patrick said, "Should I get my camera?"

"Save the film for my real performance," she said. "Ok here goes.

My Prerogative

Spoken:
People can take everything away from you
But they can never take away your truth
But the question is...
Can you handle mine?

They say I'm crazy
I really don't care
That's my prerogative
They say I'm nasty
But I don't give a damn
Getting boys is how I live
Some ask me questions
Why am I so real?
But they don't understand me
I really don't know the deal about my sister
Trying hard to make it right
Not long ago
Before I won this fight

Chorus:

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live?
I don't need permission,

make my own decisions
That's my prerogative
that's my prerogative
(it's my prerogative)

It's the way that I wanna live (it's my prerogative)
You can't tell me what to do

Don't get me wrong
I'm really not souped
Ego trips is not my thing
All these strange relationships really gets me down
I see nothing wrong in spreading myself around

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live?
I don't need permission,

make my own decisions
That's my prerogative
That's my prerogative

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live?
I don't need permission,

make my own decisions
That's my prerogative
that's my prerogative

It's the way that I wanna live (it's my prerogative)
You can't tell me what to do

why can't I live my life
without all of the things
That people say
oh oh

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live?
I don't need permission,

make my own decisions
That's my prerogative (they say I'm crazy)

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live? (they say I'm use to)
I don't need permission,

make my own decisions
That's my prerogative
(it's my prerogative)"

Patrick got up and gave her a long passionate kiss.

"A clap or a compliment would have been just fine, you know," She said, smiling at him.

"I dunno..." he said, "but I say, do whatever you wanna do."

"I'm glad you've related to the message of the song, then" she said, and for the first time she actually kissed him (first).

Her mobile rang... 2 seconds later Patrick's phone rang too. They broke apart, flustered.

"Coincidence," Kat muttered (about their devices sounding at the same time) and answered.

"Yes, dad." Kat said in a bored tone "told you I'm at Mandella's. No you can't talk to her for a sec as proof because I uh, left her house minutes ago um, to see this guy friend for like, a few minutes. What I'm not allowed to do that now? Yes, he's not a drug addict. No, his parents aren't crazed alcoholics. His mum is a respectful doctor and his dad is a college professor, if you must know. No, I don't know at which university he lectures, I'll ask later only if you strongly insist. Seriously, dad, lighten up! Yes, the mum's here but the dad's not as he's at work! Really now, I have to go. Fine, in 15 minutes... promise. Can I hang up now? Good, goodbye."

The minute she hung up she took the cushion Patrick was leaning on minutes ago and muffled her scream in it. Patrick had taken the receiver to the bathroom and was talking to someone there. He emerged a few minutes later looking harassed.

"Can't be as bad as mine," Kat growled.

"Why? Who was it?" Patrick wanted to know.

"My dad. I had to tell him a few white lies to get away with this," she said "seriously, it's not like I'm weak enough to get raped. If anything, guys should fear of me raping them."

When she said the last sentence she looked at Patrick cunningly and jokefully, whom smiled back mischievously.

"It's hard to believe you're a virgin, as a matter of fact," Patrick said, going to a nearby fridge right out his room and coming back with snacks. He threw Kat a 'Lays' packet and a diet coke can.

"Who says I'm a virgin?" Kat said, flushing pink, but she said it in her firm mater-of-fact tone.

"Oh really?" Patrick said curiously, wolfing down a sandwich "who with?"

"Joey." She said shortly.

"Explains everything."

A few minutes of silence followed this. Both pretended to be absorbed in their food.

"Does your dad know?" He asked, breaking the tension.

"No. Just Biance. And Mandella knows too."

"Interesting. You got away with it?"

"Told you... my mum convinced him to go easy on us so he didn't mind me going out a lot back then."

"Oh. How did it go?"

"I regret it ofcourse... because he used me? I feel robbed. Sucks like hell."

"Mhmm..."

"I gotta go now..." Kat said, after finishing her drink "dad expects me to be home- shocker."

"So soon?" Patrick asked. "But we didn't get down to any business."

"And we will not be going down to no 'business'," Kat said, getting her guitar ready "save it for our wedding night, I say. It'll make it special."

She ruffled his hair and headed out.

"See you tomorrow," she called, departing.

Kat arrived home, thinking it's strange how all the lights were switched off. She placed her guitar by the door and was just about to ascend the stairs when the lights flickered on.

Her dad appeared from view, sitting in the living room, staring at her in an accusatory way.

"I thought I'd set my rules," he said, trying to maintain calmness "and I had expected them to be understood and obeyed, especially from you."

"What are you talking about, Dad?" Kat asked impatiently.

He got up and glared down at her. "Don't play dumb with me. I know what you've been up to."

Kat's heart skipped a beat.

"I spoke to Mandella's parents," he said, circling her and eyeing her reproachfully "they said that Mandella was off at her violin lessons since school ended for the day and that the last persons to enter their home were the plumbers, whom arrived early in the morning."

Kat was feeling too slow to think of a cover up story that she could possibly get away with.

"Ok," she said, yielding "I'm sorry then."

She actually sounded sincere.

"So..." Mr. Walter said, "Are you planning on telling me what you were up to, at all? It's not like I would've beat you up or eaten you over dinner, if you were honest. But I must express my disappointment in you. I trusted you. And you've lied to me. You've disrespected me by disobeying me behind my own back... when you're perfectly aware of how much I worry about you. When you know that I know better than you and that I only want what's best for you and your sister was it too much to ask for? For a little cooperation on making sure that your life will run smoothly?"

"You wouldn't have permitted it, should I have told you that I was going over to my boyfriend's house." Kat said defiantly, in confession.

"I would have warned you to take precaution," he almost yelled "how long have you known this boy, in the first place? And for instance, I could've made you beware of him or his brother and probably maniac father drugging your food. And from the crumbs on your shirt I know he's offered you something. Oh great, things are getting out of control, my worst fear realized..."

"Please," Kat said, rolling her eyes and rubbing off the crumbs "you should save these tips for Bianca. 'I' can tell when a guy's dangerous. Listen, my life isn't screwed up. I'm not pregnant. I'm going to Sarah Lawrence's. I'm in good health. Really, what's missing? We've been over this before, I can control my own life, thank you."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise two girls single-handedly and so that they'd grow up into respectable young woman and keep the family name dignified?" He slicked back his hair in frustration. "You are not to see this boy, other than in school. At least not until I see him for myself first."

"You want me to introduce you to Patrick?" Kat asked, weary.

"Unless you want me to humiliate you by going to your school myself and surprising him with my unexpected appearance. Patrick, is it?"

"No, we wouldn't want any surprise appearances, would we?" Kat said, wishing she were someone else "Fine then. I'll make an appointment for you to see him."

"Tomorrow," he said "the sooner the better. For the both of us, trust me."

"I'm sure, now can I go up to my room to sulk in peace?"

"Interrogation over." He announced.

"Woohoo," Kat said sarcastically, stalking off.

"No respect," he mumbled, picking up his phone and dialing a number "bet my blood pressure's risen up. Dear Lord, I ask for your assistance."

Kat went up to her bedroom miserably and pondered on the situation.

The minute her dad will lay eyes on Patrick he'll assume that he's a gangster leader, what with the hair and all.

Meanwhile at Patrick's house...

The doorbell rang.

"Coming, don't get your pants wet!" Mr. Verona said, only wearing a white vest and jogging pants. He opened the door.

A teenage brunette stood before him.

"Hello, sir." She said politely, grabbing his hand and shaking it "This is Stephanie. I called earlier, because I mean to see your son."

The father eyed her up and down "why... are you his girlfriend?"

"Kind of..." she said.

"Hate ta disappoint ya beautiful, but that looser Patrick's already got a mate. Was here minutes ago. But you can always, ahem, lay with a sexy, more worthwhile man."

He puffed his chest up.

Stephanie laughed as if she thought it was funny, "Never mind. Maybe uh... perhaps his girlfriend... maybe his first girlfriend will show up again... so I'll... I'll see him at school tomorrow. Tell him I stopped by, please."

She rushed off.

"Joey," she called to the figure behind the bushes, after the coast was clear "we don't need to get this done today. The dad is a pervert. You would've chickened out from entering that house if you were in my shoes."

Joey emerged.

"If I had your feet my shoes would be trainers instead of sandals, my choice of feminine shoes. Oh well, guess there's always tomorrow then..." he said, disappointed.

Back at the Stratford house, Mr. Stratford was making a phonecall.

"Mrs. Smithers, hello. It's Walter here with you, across the street from you. How are you doing, it's been a while. And how's your husband? Really? That's nice, congratulate him for me then. I'm good, I'm good. The girls miss you. No you can't tell me that you've been busy... because when Jenanive left, remember how you assured me that the girls are as good as your daughters and you promised me that you'd always care for them? I believe that mothers should never be too preoccupied for their daughters. Anyway, I'm not asking much. The point here is that I want you to drop by tomorrow, for a cup of tea. And bring along your son, Mitch, I believe he's Katarina's age. They'll get along famously, I'm sure. I hear he's quite a gentleman now. Of course I wouldn't mind, respective parents usually have respectable offspring, am I not right? Ahahahaha. Wonderful! Thanks. Five it is then. Have a nice day, yes. I'll tell 'em. I'm glad, and no problem. Uhuh you too... bye."