Mutt was now sixteen. He had been in and out of private schools since he was eight. Marion was working during the day, so she was unable to keep an eye on him, so Oxley was there at home. Mutt was a good kid overall, but he had the tendency to start fights. One day, he was found in the principal's office. This fic will only have two more chapters, this one, and one last one. Thanks for all the support in this fic; I hope to write many others similar to it. Enjoy!

"Henry Jones the Third, what the hell is wrong with you? This is the sixth time you've been suspended this month!" My patience was constantly being tested by Mutt, and also working during the day didn't help matters. I was working under a journalist, trying to make a name for myself. At night, it was me, and the liquor. I didn't drink heavily—unless I had a bad day at work, or Mutt drove me off the deep end. But at this moment, I was totally sober, and screaming at my teenage son for picking yet another fight, and making me miss an important meeting at work.

"Ma, I didn't start it! It was this guy in my Biology class who started the whole thing, he was calling me names...and...It just happened."

"Bullshit, Mutt! You say that every time, but I know you have a tendency to pick fights with guys much bigger than you!" I shouted, my face feeling heated, as I was angry at him. He was always testing my patience, and I had enough of his crap. Part of me was telling myself that I was like him at his age, challenging authority and such, but now that I was his mother, I totally changed my outlook. No son of mine was going to be a worthless bum, I wanted Mutt to at least go to school, get an education, and not buck me every step of the way. Stopping myself, I realized, "Marion, he's just going through puberty. He's growing up, and he doesn't have a stable father figure, so he has to deal with things on his own." I thought to myself, "If that son of a bitch Indiana Jones would have married me and not had left me, alone and pregnant, this all wouldn't have happened." I stared at Mutt coldly.

"You're in big trouble when we get home, you hear me?" I said, not showing any sort of emotion.

Leading Mutt to the car, I heard his mutter under his breath, "I'm sorry, Ma."

I looked at him sternly."You better be." Starting the car, we headed home. When we got home, Mutt ran inside and I quickly followed him. Cornering him in the hallway, I grabbed him by the jacket.

"What the hell is your problem Mutt? I'm sick and goddamn tired of having to go to your school because you beat up some kid over something so trivial...you've been kicked out of six private schools the last eight years, and I've had to work my ass off to suck up to these headmasters so I can make sure you have a education."

Mutt looked at me, and yelled back, "Why don't you just let me quit school? I'm obviously not cut out for it anyway!"

I was seething with anger. "No son of mine is going to quit school. You are going to finish, whether you like it or not!"

He looked at me, and said, "I'll get a job."

I tried to hold back."You will not. Young man, you are going to school, no ifs ands or buts."

Mutt was angry. He whipped around and hit the lamp on the table, knocking it off the end table, and breaking it. He went to his room, slammed the door, and locked it, like he always did when he was mad at me. I went to get a broom and sweep the pieces. While sweeping, I began to sob uncontrollably. I was so angry at Mutt for breaking this lamp, yet at the same time, I was mad at him for being such a handful. The lamp wasn't cheap, it was an antique that Colin had in his family. It was one of the few heirlooms of mine or Colin's around. Mutt had destroyed yet another heirloom. Oxley walked in, obviously hearing me crying, and put an arm around me.

"Marion, don't worry sweetheart, he'll grow out of this eventually." Oxley smiled, and helped get the pieces of the lamp swept and into the trash.

I looked at him; my face stained with tears, and said, "I really hope so."

Retreating to my room, I took to crying. Looking under my bed, I found my alcohol stash. Pouring a glass of gin, I drank it slowly, savoring the taste. Normally, as I said, I never drank unless stress got to me, or Mutt drove me over the deep end. When I was younger, it was a bigger habit; I'd drink my nights away. I was known in Nepal as the girl with the iron stomach. I beat out men twice my size in drinking contests. Drinking the gin, I kept pouring it, and finally I was sleeping on my bed, when somehow, Mutt entered the room. He leaned over, pulling the blanket over me. My eyes fluttered open to see my son kissing my cheek.

"I love you Mom." Smiling, I said, my voice hoarse, "I love you too."

The next morning, I woke up with a hangover. Stumbling outside my room, I found a note from Oxley telling me he took Mutt to the museum and that they'd be back in a few hours. Clutching my head, I poured myself a glass of water, got an aspirin, and sat at the kitchen table.

I knew one thing; I wasn't going to drink like this again. Hopefully.

Six months later, he was kicked out of yet another institution. For what? Smoking. He had leafed through my purse and took my cigarettes.

"Mutt, how many times have I told you to not go through my purse? Now, you're out of another institution because you and your friends were caught smoking!" I was livid, because one day when I had the urge to smoke, there was an empty carton in my purse. Mutt had gone through my purse and stole my cigarettes.

I wanted to scream.

This was the seventh school he had gotten kicked out of. All the others he had gotten mainly kicked out for fighting. His grades were pretty good, but he had the tendency to ditch school frequently, only going to the classes he liked. This whole thing didn't start occurring until Mutt was eleven or twelve. Before that, he never ditched classes, he was constantly in detentions and suspensions because he'd pick fights, and eventually the school would have enough, and kick him out. I never could get through to him, most times; I was working, so Oxley was my "eyes" when I was working. Mutt always talked to Ox, seeing him as the only man in the household. Ox would only tell me things that he felt I needed to know. Most times though, I would be talking to my son through a locked door.

Was this how our mother/son relationship was going to end up? Most nights after work, I was in my room, crying. We used to be so close, and then everything happened when he was eight or nine, which is when I started working again. I seem to think that he was mad at me for going back to work. But I had to; his schools were expensive, which was the reason why I was pissed off every time he got thrown out of a school.

I miss the old Mutt.