summary: in which we have the infamous printer incident from 2nd grade

angst without fluff? more likely than you imagine

tw: hints at suicide ideation?

.

.

.

"Connor, I'm asking you for the last time: what exactly happened in class today?" Cynthia demanded from the driver's seat of the car. They were pulling into the driveway of their home and Connor was still sobbing hysterically. Zoe awkwardly stared out of the window.

Cynthia parked the car into the garage, letting Zoe into the house first before opening the car door on Connor's side. She picked him up—even though he was getting to the point where he was nearly too large to be carried—and set him down on the kitchen stool.

"Connor," she sighed, looking extremely disappointed in hi, which only made him want to cry harder. "Can you please tell me what happened so I know both sides of the story?"

He hiccupped loudly. "But I don't… want to," he choked out, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

Cynthia pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Fine, Connor, go up to your room. Your dad is coming home soon and he'll deal with you."

Connor dragged his feet up to his bedroom, the sickening knot in his stomach twisting tighter every moment.

He hadn't meant to do it, he really hadn't. He had just been so angry that everything had gone blurry and it was like he'd lost control of his own body. He'd burst into tears once he'd realized what he had actually done. He really, really hadn't meant to, and he was so sorry.

He heard the front door open and shut downstairs as Larry came home, and he didn't need to listen to know that Cynthia was most likely telling Larry all about what had happened, and what they should do about it. After a few agonizing minutes, Cynthia called him down for dinner, and the silence at the table was painfully awkward. Cynthia and Larry wore grave, serious looks and Zoe's eyes darted between them and Connor.

When the meal was over, Cynthia quickly cleared the plates into the kitchen, as Larry cleared his throat and turned to Zoe. "Zo, do you mind playing by yourself? Mummy and I need to talk to Connor a while." Zoe nodded, shooting Connor a look of concern and sympathy as she left the table.

Cynthia returned to the table, she and Larry taking a seat opposite Connor, who was suddenly finding the grains of the hardwood floor very interesting.

"Connor," Larry began a little stiffly. "Why did you throw a printer in class today?"

"I didn't throw it," Connor protested.

Cynthia frowned. "That's what Mrs. Gilbert said you did."

"I didn't throw it," he repeated.

Larry sighed. "Well, then what did you do?"

"I… I pushed it off the table," Connor admitted sullenly. "There's a difference."

"That's not the point here," Larry said sternly. "The issue here is why did you throw—or push—the printer in the first place?"

"Because Mrs. G didn't let me become the line leader."

"But did you have to react that way?"

"No," It came out like a choke. He hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't meant to do it. He had just been so, so angry. He knew he wasn't supposed to react that way.

"Why didn't Mrs. G let you be line leader?" Cynthia pressed.

"Because she thought my solar system project was bad."

"What do you mean? What solar system project?" Cynthia looked confused.

"We had to do the solar system and paste the paper planets onto the black paper because that was space. And then we needed to put the silver glitter glue for the constellations. But the glitter glue was almost empty and I didn't have the strength to squeeze it out so it got messy. And the constellations didn't look nice."

"And that was Mrs. G's reason?" Larry asked skeptically. "Because it didn't look nice?"

"Well, not really," Connor squeaked. Larry gestured for him to continue. "Mrs. G said it looked ugly but I said I thought it looked fine. Then she said that I shouldn't talk back to her and that she was going to make me line leader that day but not anymore. Then I got upset and… and I pushed the printer."

"But why did you tell her you thought it was fine when you said it was messy in the first place? That's not very truthful," Cynthia chided.

"Because she hurt my feelings, so I got angry," Connor argued, beginning to tear up again.

"That doesn't excuse your behavior, Connor. She is your teacher and you should not disrespect her," Larry paused for a beat before continuing, "And you need to work on controlling your temper. I don't want to ever hear of something like this happening again, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir, I'm sorry," Connor apologized, hanging his head.

"Where's your solar system project?" Cynthia inquired.

"I threw it away at school."

"Why?"

"Because it was ugly," he murmured, looking embarrassed. "I didn't want people to see it."

"I'm sorry about the project, Connor," Cynthia said sympathetically, "But maybe you can be line leader again another time."

Connor swiped angrily at the tears that had sprung up. "No, I can't," he cried, "Because Mrs. G always doesn't want me to become line leader because she doesn't like me and after today she will never let me become line leader ever again!"

"What do you mean Mrs. G doesn't like you?" Cynthia asked, a little concerned.

"She always skips over me for line leader even though some of the other kids have gone twice. And she doesn't like me because I always finish the homework in class too quickly and then I draw on the side of the worksheet because I'm bored but it's not my fault because the homework is too easy."

"We'll talk to Mrs. G about that, alright?" Cynthia reassured him before continuing more sternly, "But your father and I have discussed today's events and you know that you need to face the consequences for what you did in class." He nodded dully, fidgeting uncomfortably as she added, "You're not getting any television for two weeks, we're confiscating your Marvel comics, and when you go back to school after your suspension is over, you'll have to apologize to Mrs. Gilbert for what happened, alright?"

"Yes, mom."

He deserved it. He deserved it.

He knew he deserved it.

He didn't feel like playing with Zoe anymore, and he was afraid that since he was already upset he might get mad again and hurt her accidentally. So he headed up to his room to finish his homework, even though there wasn't much point since he was suspended for the next two days anyway. But he felt that by doing it he could temporarily take his mind off the day's awful events, and pretend that maybe everything was still normal for a while.

He was halfway through his science worksheet when he heard the commotion. First it was raised voices, then a kitchen drawer that was slammed too hard, followed by more shouting. Through the wall they shared, he could hear Zoe shuffling around in her room, then her door shut. He knew that she always hated it when their parents fought, and she usually tried to shut out the noise by closing her bedroom door.

Against his better judgement, he slipped quietly out into the corridor to get a better idea of what they were arguing about. Well, it had to be about him, what else would it be? He knew that he shouldn't be listening to his parents' arguments, they only made him feel worse, but at the same time he was curious enough that he found himself peering through the staircase railings at what was going on downstairs in the kitchen.

He couldn't see much from his position—although that meant that they couldn't see him either—but he could clearly hear every word that was being spoken.

"I don't know what to do with him, Cynthia, I really don't! This is getting out of hand!"

"Maybe… just be patient, it's a one-time thing."

"These kinds of issues aren't just 'one-time things', they're the signs of some other underlying issue."

"He was upset by the teacher, that's all. It happens to the best of us."

"But throwing a printer?"

"I don't know, Larry. Sometimes kids get worked up and throw tantrums…"

"This is different, he could have hurt somebody! And what if he starts doing this around the house? What if he hurts Zoe?" Connor felt his chest constrict a little at those words—apparently, he wasn't the only one who was concerned about that.

"Larry, you're being ridiculous."

"Cynthia, I'm not—"

"He's a child, he's not having anger issues or anything!"

"If we don't start disciplining him, what's going to happen when he's older? It's going to be just a slippery slope from here—do you want him to end up in prison or something next time?"

Connor didn't feel like listening anymore. He felt a little sick. He didn't want to go to prison when he got older. He hadn't meant to throw the printer. He just became angry, and he didn't know what to do with the anger, and sometimes that anger came out of his body and made him throw things, even when he knew that it was wrong.

He went back into his room, kept his books and homework, and climbed into bed.

Connor had been to a cemetery before—there was one right behind their church. At a young age, he had asked his parents what the headstones were, and they had told him it marked the places where dead people were buried. It wasn't until he was a couple years older that he realized that there were actually people, real people—people who had once been living and breathing like him—buried there. It had given him the creeps, as he wondered what it must be like to be lying cold and dead six feet under the ground, what it must be like dying one day and never waking up for the next.

But tonight, as he turned out the lights and drew the covers over his head, he realized that he wouldn't actually mind going to bed and never waking up again.

He wished he didn't have to wake up again.

.

.

.

pls don't kill me
thx

anyway comment, like, subscribe, or hmu on tumblr thewickedverkaiking

i can't promise it get betters but just ... hang on?

also very short story here but the incident of this solar system project is based on something that happened to me when i was like 5 at a montessori class, im not the artsiest person so basically my shooting stars/constellations did not turn out well?

although i still stubbornly insist that the teacher really didn't have to tell me so

(i didnt throw a printer tho)

oh well