Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock or The Incredibles
Chapter Ten: Scapegoat
"Breakfast!" Helen called, laying plates down on the kitchen table. Within seconds Virgil and Violet were digging into the spread, chatting amicably about classes. Bob walked in a moment later, heading straight for the coffee. He hadn't slept well last night.
Helen poured herself a mug and sat down. There was an empty place where Francis should be. She raised an eyebrow. Probably just running late this morning.
A few more minutes passed and Francis still hadn't emerged. Helen was about to ask Virgil to go get the other boy when Francis entered the kitchen. He had dark circled under his eyes and a scowl on his face. He stalked to the fridge, grabbed an apple, and left just as quickly as he had arrived.
The occupants of the table watched him leave. "What crawled up his butt?" Virgil muttered, draining the last of his orange juice.
Helen shot a look at Bob. He looked down at the table, suddenly becoming very interested in his toast.
The garage door opened and slammed shut. "Is he leaving?" Violet asked. The sounds of a motor rumbling to life echoed down the halls. "Oh shit." Violet leapt up from the table, throwing her backpack over her shoulder and racing for the garage before either parent could scold her for the language.
"I guess I'd better be going too." Virgil said after a moment, confusion in his voice. It almost came out like a question.
Helen nodded and Virgil cleared his plates before leaving. Helen turned on Bob. "What did you do?"
Francis slid into his seat in Spanish and put his head down on his desk. There were still a couple of minutes until the bell rang. He was tired and mad and sick of Bob. He just wanted to rest in some quiet, dark place.
"Are you okay?" Francis didn't lift his head at the sound of Frieda's voice. He nodded, head still in his arms. "You sure?"
Another nod.
"Okay." Frieda didn't sound convinced.
More students filed in and found their seats and then the bell rang. The teacher started talking, the chalk scraping irritatingly loudly across the blackboard. Francis groaned and lifted his head and got out his notebook, pretending to take notes. Instead he doodled in the margins, maybe drawing a caricature of Bob being eaten by a shark. He stabbed at the paper particularly viciously, squirting ink across the page as faux blood. Francis smirked at his creation.
Frieda kept trying to make eye contact but he avoided her. Francis was thinking about skipping out on the rest of the day so he could go find someplace to sleep.
"I'm going to hand your tests from last week back. If you have any questions you can come see me during my office hours." The teacher scooped up a pile of papers and started moving around the class. Francis closed his notebook and ran a hand over his face, smothering a yawn. He needed to get his shit together.
"Here you go Francis." A test landed on his desk. Francis didn't look up at the teacher, too focused on the big blazing red 'F' next to his name. He groaned. Today was not his day.
"Eeesh." Frieda winced from next to him.
Francis nodded. "Yeah. The thing is, I'm actually doing fine in all my other classes. I've never taken a foreign language though. This stuff sucks."
"Excellent work as always Frieda." The teacher handed her star pupil her test, a giant 'A' accompanied by a gold star emblazing the front page.
"It's doesn't suck." Frieda said, flipping her paper over.
Francis noticed the grade anyway. "Yeah, easy for you to say. You get A's on everything."
"Not everything." Frieda protested.
"Oh yeah?" Francis smirked at her. "When was the last time you failed anything?"
Frieda thought for a moment. "Well, I've never failed. I'm pretty sure I got a 'B' in Bio last year."
Francis put a hand to his heart, feigning shock. "A 'B'! Say it ain't so." He scoffed at Frieda, rolling his eyes. That girl had no reason to complain about anything, ever.
"Shut up." Frieda laughed. "There's nothing wrong with getting good grades." Frieda looked at Francis' test. "Progress reports are coming out soon. If you want, I can tutor you so you can bring up your Spanish grade to match your other classes."
"Really?" Francis asked. "You'd do that?"
Frieda shrugged. "Sure. What are friends for?"
Francis stopped himself from wincing at the word 'friends.' "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."
The bell rang. Frieda gathered her things and smiled at Francis. "I'll text you with a time and place."
"Okay." Francis nodded. He watched her walk out the door and sighed. He crumpled his test and launched it at the garbage can.
Virgil stared at the blender and then at the ceiling, which was now dripping with pink goo. In a perfect world, that goo would've been a fruit smoothie. Virgil had thought he'd put the lid on tight enough. Apparently not.
If his dad walked in right now, Virgil would have to clean this mess up by himself and he would be grounded. That means he couldn't go the arcade with Richie tomorrow after school. That would suck. Virgil had been saving his quarters. They were going to try and beat the Blaster Wars high score. No, Virgil was going to have to find a way to squirm out of this sticky situation.
The garage door opened and closed and Virgil heard Francis walk in. Helen had sent him to the grocery store. That means he would be coming to the kitchen. Virgil panicked and ran, leaving the mess behind.
Francis walked into the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of the pink mess. It was like a Teletubbie had thrown up all over the place. The ceiling, the table, and parts of the floor and counter were coated with the goopy paste, which looked as though it were rapidly congealing. Francis found a clean spot on the counter and put the grocery bag down. He walked over to the counter and picked up the lid to the blender. Someone was going to be in trouble. Francis smirked and put the lid down.
Somebody cleared his throat behind the red head. Francis turned.
Bob and Helen were standing in the doorway; both had irritated looks on their faces. Francis' face fell. Oh shit. He was the one in trouble.
Two hours later, Francis was on his hands and knees, scraping the dried pink disaster off the tiles. This was not fair. They hadn't even let him try to explain. Whatever. Francis grunted, chipping away at the goop. He'd already cleaned the table and counter. He was almost done with the floor. He wasn't sure how he was going to get to the ceiling. Francis sat back on his haunches and ran his forearm across his temple, wiping away beads of sweat. Francis tackled the spot with the sponge next, scrubbing away the last pink smudge. Only a million more smudges to go. Francis tossed the sponge into the bucket of pink-colored water beside him.
"Hey." Francis looked up. Virgil was in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot nervously. He looked around the kitchen. "What a mess."
Francis didn't answer.
"Look, about this…"
"What? You did it and you're letting me take the fall?" Francis grumbled.
Virgil's eye widened. "Wha…?"
"Dude, I saw you run out of the kitchen like your ass was on fire. I know you did it." Francis said, standing up and stretching his back. It popped loudly as his muscles extended.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Virgil asked.
Francis shrugged. "Dunno. I'm already grounded. Doesn't really matter."
Virgil raised an eyebrow. "You're grounded? What did you do?"
"Got in a fight with Bob." Francis said simply.
Virgil snickered. "But you guys fight all the time."
"This was different." Francis explained. He turned back to his work. "I gotta get this stuff cleaned up by dinner so…"
"Let me help." Virgil reached around Francis and took the sponge from his hand. "You finish the floor and I'll get the ceiling."
"How?" Francis asked, craning his neck up to look at the mess.
Virgil reached into his pocket and pulled out his disc. With a flick of his wrist it had popped into shape. Virgil magnetized it into the air and hopped onto the thin metal sheet. "Easy."
Francis smirked. "Okay. Go ahead."
The two boys worked for the next hour but it paid off. The kitchen was spotless and so was Virgil's conscience.
"Hey. I'll see you guys in a couple of hours." Virgil said, waving at Francis and Violet as he and Richie headed off into downtown Dakota.
"Bye." Violet waved back. As soon as Virgil was out of sight she whirled around to face Francis.
He jumped in surprise. "What?"
"I need a favor." Violet said.
"Why?" Francis cocked an eyebrow at her.
She swatted his arm. "I'm serious. Frieda asked me to go shopping with her and some girls this afternoon. I really want to make friends with her. I'm tired of not having anyone to talk to."
"You haven't made friends?" Francis asked.
Violet huffed. "Sort of. But they never ask me to go anywhere. I can't pass this up. Besides, Frieda's really nice and I promised I'd go."
"So go." Francis said, waving her away.
Violet shook her head. "It's not that simple. If Mom and Dad find out I let you in the house alone…"
"Wait." Francis cut in. "Are you saying I can't be alone? What, they think I'm gonna set the house on fire?"
Violet's stare answered his question.
"That's not fair." Francis grumbled. "I haven't set anything on fire in ages."
"Their rule, not mine." Violet said. "But I'll be back at four. Mom and Dad took Jack-Jack to the doctor and will be back at 4:30. I'll catch a ride back with Virgil so we should have plenty of time."
"This seems unnecessarily elaborate." Francis said.
"Just listen." Violet insisted. "Dash will be home a little before four, if he gets home before I do, tell him I'm in the bathroom or something. Okay?"
Francis nodded. "Sure. But I might just melt something out of spite."
"Don't." Violet said seriously. "You want them to trust you don't you? Here's the first step."
Francis considered it. She was right. "Fine. I'll be a good boy."
"Good." Violet smiled. "Have a nice ride home." Violet flounced away.
Francis shook his head in wonderment. Girls. He turned his attention to his sneakers, reaching down and tying the loose laces. Never ride a motorcycle with loose laces.
"Hey." Francis looked up at the accented voice. There was a Latina girl standing in front of the bike, one hand running appraisingly over the paint. She had long auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail and a pretty, pointed face. She was dressed in a halter-top that showed off her flat stomach and capris. She looked up at him.
Francis smirked. "Hey."
"Nice bike." The girls said.
Francis nodded. "Thanks."
"I always admire a guy who can handle a beast like this." The girl said, her eyes never leaving Francis'.
"It's not a problem." Francis shrugged.
"I'm Teresa." The girl introduced herself.
"Francis."
"I know." The girl smiled. "Everybody knows who you are after that little demonstration against Wade last week." Francis smirked wider. "You got some moves. You ever a Banger?"
"Back in Metroville. I had to quit though." Francis explained.
"Really? Why?" Teresa asked.
"Long story." Francis shrugged.
"I'd like to hear it." Teresa said, her smile becoming a little more predatory. Francis knew that look.
"Wanna go for a ride?" Francis asked, holding out Violet's helmet for the Latina.
Teresa took it wordlessly and climbed expertly onto the seat behind Francis. She pressed against him, her hands encircling his waist and settling low in his lap. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Francis put his helmet on and slid the visor down. Dash would be back at four. That gave him two hours alone at the house. Francis revved the engine, a gleam in his eyes.
Teresa backed Francis up against the garage door; her hands and lips were everywhere. Francis fumbled with the keys, trying to get the door open. He finally plunged the key into its hole and jerked the door open; they stumbled backwards, still attached by the lips.
Francis walked backwards, navigating the hallway and kicked open the door to his room. Once they were inside, Teresa detached herself and sashayed over to the bed, sitting down and staring expectantly up at Francis.
Francis closed the door and launched himself at Teresa. Her ponytail came loose and Francis buried her hands in her auburn mane. Teresa responded by reaching up and intertwining her hands in his short red spikes, forcefully pulling his head down to hers.
Francis' lips left Teresa's and began wandering down to her neck, biting every now and again. He liked the sound Teresa made when his teeth grazed her collarbone.
Teresa's hands went under Francis' shirt, running her fingers along his taut abs and tracing circles around his pecs before gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling up impatiently. Francis ducked his head obediently and Teresa got the shirt off him, flinging it across the room.
Francis plunged his hands under her shirt, pulling it over Teresa's head. He palmed her breasts over her bra and returned to her lips. One of his hands settled between her thighs, pulling them apart. Teresa nipped at Francis' bottom lip and smiled up at him. She hooked one of her legs around his and suddenly she was on top. Francis looked up at her, curious.
Teresa's hands deftly unclasped Francis' belt and tore it from the loops, jerking Francis' hips. She dropped the belt over the side of the bed and then Teresa nimbly undid the zipper of his jeans and pulled, the baggy pants sliding down Francis' legs easily and exposing several inches of his boxers.
Francis smirked at her and flipped them again so he was back on top. They were kissing again, Francis had one hand under Teresa trying to work the clasp to her bra and the other was roving across her stomach and chest. One of her hands was gripping his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh while the other tugged at his waistband.
Francis felt himself getting rock hard and decided to move things along. He moved one of his legs between Teresa's and she bucked her hips against him. Francis smirked against her lips.
A strong hand grabbed Francis by the back of his neck and he was bodily flung across the room. Francis cracked his head on the closet door and winced. Then he gasped.
Bob was glaring, no, that wasn't a strong enough word for what Bob was doing. He was seething. He was trembling in rage. Helen was standing aghast in the doorway.
Teresa squeaked and grabbed her shirt, covering herself.
Francis scrambled to his feet, looking at his bedside clock. 3:00. No fair! They weren't supposed to home until 4:30.
"Out." Bob growled at Teresa. She didn't need another invitation. She darted from the room, pulling her shirt on over her head. Francis wondered how she was going to get back to Dakota.
Bob turned on Francis. He gulped, eyes wide and shrank back against the wall. "Look, I'm..."
"Be quiet." Bob said lowly. Francis nodded quickly. "How dare you. How dare you defile my home by bringing that girl here."
"Rule number eight!" Helen hissed at him.
Francis wanted to disappear. Bob pointedly looked down. Francis followed his gaze and reddened. His pants were practically around his ankles and there was a noticeable bulge in his boxers. Francis grabbed his jeans and hurriedly pulled them back up. He looked away in embarrassment.
Bob stepped forward, prepared to give Francis the tongue lashing of a lifetime when Helen charged in front of her husband and marched up to Francis, a furious look on her face. She grabbed him by the chin and forced his face down so they were eye level. "So help me, if you get a girl pregnant I will creep into your room in the middle of the night and cut your balls off. Is that clear?"
Francis stared in wide-eyed horror. Helen shook him. "Is that clear?"
"Y-yes ma'am." Francis managed.
"Good." Helen turned on her heel and strode from the room. Bob and Francis stared after her.
Bob looked at Francis. The teen was half-naked, red-faced, and shaking in fear. "Yeah." Bob added lamely and then left. Really, what more could he add? Threat delivered. He loved his wife.
Francis sank to the floor and hugged his knees. He may not be scared of Bob but he was fucking terrified of Helen.
"I can't believe you!" Violet raged. "I leave you alone for an hour and you bring some skank over to have sex with? Really?"
"Sorry." Francis grumbled. Why was everyone talking about this? He felt his face redden again. It felt like he had a permanent blush. Curse of the red hair.
"Do you realize I'm in trouble now too? Because I let you go home alone?"
"Sorry okay?" Francis shouted. "I'm sorry!"
Violet crossed her arms, not satisfied. "At least I'm not grounded. Not like you. You'll be lucky if you see the sun again by the time you graduate."
"Thanks for reminding me." Francis flopped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands.
"Hi guys." Dash walked into the room. He peered over the armrest at Francis. "Why are Mom and Dad so mad at you?"
Francis grunted something and rolled over so his face was buried in the couch cushions. He kicked the floor like a little kid and then was still.
"He did something stupid." Violet supplied. She picked up the remote and started flipping through channels.
"Oh." Dash's curiosity was not abated. "What was it?"
"Nunya." Violet said.
Dash wrinkled his brow in thought. "What's nunya?"
"None ya business." Violet said haughtily.
Dash groaned. "Lame!"
"You fell for it." Violet reminded him.
"What are you doing in here?" Bob asked, walking into the living room. Francis jerked his head up at Bob's voice. "No TV." Bob reminded the teen, lifting him by the shirt over the back of the couch and setting him on his feet. Bob pointed towards Francis' bedroom.
Francis groaned and trudged to his room, hanging his head in misery. He'd almost choose the government center at this point.
His new phone vibrated in his pocket. Helen had gotten him a new one after Bob had crushed his old phone. He flipped it open discreetly. He wasn't allowed phone privileges either.
Frieda: Tomorrow after school in the library?
Francis had to remember what she was talking about. Oh yeah, tutoring. He wasn't really in the mood for Spanish, or anything really except crawling into a dark corner and dying.
Then again, would the Parrs let him stay after school for tutoring? How could they say no to that? They were always complaining that his work ethic wasn't strong enough. Francis flipped the phone shut with one hand and pushed open the door to his bedroom. Couldn't hurt asking.
Francis set a reply text.
maybe, i'll tell u later 4 sure
Frieda responded almost immediately.
Frieda: Ok! Just let me know.
Francis smiled. Her texts were so like her. Perky with perfect punctuation.
Francis approached the topic of tutoring at dinner. The table was silent among the adults but Dash was doing enough talking for the whole table. Every couple of minutes Helen would shoot a glare at Francis over the chicken, clearly she was still upset.
Francis avoided eye contact with everyone and ate as quickly as he could. When he finished, he waited for the others to complete their meals. Dash cleared his plates and left the room, making a beeline for the TV. Violet and Virgil followed. Helen was still feeding Jack-Jack his baby mush but Francis figured now was as good a time as any.
"Umm…I was wondering if I could stay after school tomorrow." Francis said.
Bob, Helen, and Lucius looked at him.
Bob scoffed. "Yeah right. You're grounded. That means you only leave this house for school and you come back right after. And what makes you think you can have any extra privileges after the stunt you pulled today?"
"It's for school." Francis argued. "A friend offered to tutor me."
"Uh huh." Helen said knowingly. "And is this friend a girl?"
"Well." Francis looked down. "Well yeah."
"Great, you alone with a girl. Why wouldn't that be a good idea?" Helen said sarcastically.
Francis reddened. "We'd be in the library." He countered.
"My answer is no." Helen said.
"So is mine." Bob added. He looked across the table at Lucius. "What about you Fro?"
Lucius put his hands up in innocence. "Call me Switzerland."
"You're no help." Bob muttered.
"You're always saying I need to work on my grades and I'm failing Spanish right now so I could actually use the help." Francis said.
"Failing?" Helen asked. "Why are you failing?"
Francis groaned. "That's not the point."
"So what is the point?" Bob asked.
"Look, Frieda's, like, the smartest girl in the whole school. You can ask Virgil or Violet, they know her. She just wants to help and we're only friends. Honest." Francis said.
Lucius looked at Francis. "Is this the same Frieda who turned you down about fifteen times?"
"N-no." Francis stuttered. Virgil had told his dad about that? He'd pummel him later.
Bob laughed. "Yes it is. I like this girl already."
Francis frowned. "Can I stay after or not?"
Bob, Helen, and Lucius all exchanged looks, seemingly having a silent conversation amongst themselves. After a moment they seemed to have settled on an answer.
"Yes, but you have to have your phone on and we may call at any moment and you must answer. And you can only stay for an hour. If you want this to become a weekly thing we can talk about it later." Helen said.
Francis grinned and jumped up from his chair. "Thanks!"
"Only because you're failing. Don't expect any other privileges." Bob added.
Francis nodded and left the kitchen before they could add more stipulations. Back in his room, Francis whipped open his phone, texting an affirmative back to Frieda with a smile on his face.
Author's Note:
Alright! I've been waiting to write that scene for a looong time. That was one of the first scenarios I thought of for this story. So hooray! That is also the most risque I have ever gone. I hope that's okay.
Also, allusions to The Blind Side and Brink! Can you find them?
Uh, okay let's get serious for a second. I know Bob has been an ass thus far and that's on purpose. I need him to be an ass as a foil to Francis. Next chapter, that sort of all comes to a head and I'm not sure if I'm crossing a line. I'm kind of nervous about it. Just remember that Bob is ultimately a good guy, he just lets his emotions get the best of him sometimes. Take everything with a grain of a salt, okay? I wanted to say that before the next chapter so you guys know where I'm coming from.
PLEASE REVIEW!
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