I know this chapter wasn't suggested but it was just something I thought off when I was at mine last night. I appreciate all the chapter suggestions and would love to hear more. The more reviews the more motivation I have to carry on. Thank you.
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Parent-Teacher conferences are my least favourite thing in the entire world, and they always have been. It probably has something to do with the fact that mine always went very badly, and my parents always ended up very angry. Yet for some reason, even to do with them paying a lot for my education so they want to know how I am treating it, and the answer always is not very well.
"Thomas, hurry up! We're running late!" My Mom yells up the stairs. Quickly I grab my maroon, school blazer and slip it over my white shirt. I hate my uniform it's posh and too sophisticated. I hate my school as well. I want nothing more than to attend a public school. My best friend, Keegan Mayers, used to go to the same school as me but his parents business went bust last year so they had to pull him out. My parents had offered to pay for him to carry on attending but his parents had said they would feel guilty taking the money. After that, I could no longer tolerate private school.
I grab my blackberry from where it has been charging and shove it in my pocket. I jog down the stairs where my Dad is already waiting.
"Where's your tie?" He asks with a glare as soon as he sees me. He's wearing a navy blue blazer, white shirt and dark jeans. No tie. Hypocrite much.
"I've got it," My Mom shouts flustered, walking quickly over to us. My parents are the opposite of me when it comes to punctuality, they always like to be on time and are never late, but I on the other hand am not bothered.
She pulls me towards her by my shoulders and starts to knot my tie for me. I can do it myself but she seemed happy and I wasn't going to wreck that.
"Don't you look handsome," She croons stroking my cheek. I smile a tight lipped smile at her. Then she looks down at my feet. "Where are your shoes?"
I look down at my feet and realise I hadn't put on my shoes, they are upstairs still. I notice my converse out of the corner of my eye and go and slip them on.
"You're not wearing your converse, go and find your school shoes." My Dad orders irritably. I don't understand his hatred towards my converse, maybe they aren't upper-class enough for him?
"Christian, he's fine, leave him alone." My Mother replies just as irritated. She storms out of the house expecting us to follow behind her. We are taking the Audi tonight.
My Dad looks at me with wide eyes. "Was it something I said?" He asks bemused. I smirk and shrug my shoulders before following her out to the car.
We are only a few minutes away from my school, and I feel like now would be a good time to warn my parents they are in for a bad night, or maybe to remind them I'm their little boy.
"Mom, Dad, I just want you to remember whatever my teachers say I'm your son and you love me." I speak up from the back of the car with an amused smirk.
They glance at each other in the front. "We're going to be very unimpressed if it's any worse than last time, Thomas." My Mom says still looking out the front of the car.
"Then don't expect to be impressed." I mumble as we pull up in to the car park, which is already full with sports cars and expensive land rovers. Anyone that goes to my school is very well off and it shows. The school is huge, and very modern.
As soon as we walk into the main hall where all my teachers are sitting I consider setting the place on fire. I greet a few of my friends, then turn back to my parents.
"All my teachers are busy, we'll be waiting for ages. Why don't you just wait until next time?" I suggest but they both give me an amused smirk in reply with a shake of the head.
"Let's go and talk to Mr Dolevaro," My Mom states as she leads the way to my English teacher. My Dad follows after her but I hang back. He turns around with an expectant glare and I follow grudgingly.
As soon as we sit down at Mr Dolevaro's table he smiles politely at us. "Mr and Mrs Grey, lovely to see you as always." He greets them. I know he's only doing that because he is about to piss them off.
"Thomas, is a very intelligent young man." He begins and both my parents nod in agreement. My Mom takes my hand and holds it. "However, he is also very disruptive, and I have to say from talking with other teachers this seems to be a general problem. In lesson, he has trouble following simple instructions and seems to prefer messing around." Her grip on my hand tightens.
I can feel my parents glare on me but I don't look. "I get the feeling you'll hear this a lot tonight but I feel he's wasting his talent. I know from teaching him and just talking to him that he's very capable. I don't want him to let himself down and I'm sure you don't either." Mr Dolevaro finishes and my Dad clears his throat.
"Well what do you have to say for yourself Thomas?" He asks glaring down at me. If this is how the evening is going to go I'm ready to leave now.
"I have plenty to say but I guarantee none of it is appropriate," I mutter in response.
My Dad grips my shoulder tightly with a scowl. "Lose the attitude." He hisses.
"Actually that brings me on to my next issue," My teacher starts. Brilliant, another issue. "Your son has a very cheeky personality, one that gets him lots of attention from girls and a lot of friends, but one that doesn't go down well with us adults. Truthfully, Thomas needs to learn to shut his mouth when it's not needed, and stop being a little smart ass."
"Thanks for sugar coating it," I murmur, standing up. I look at my parents with a glare. "Can we go and talk to someone else now please?"
"No you can sit back down until we have finished," My Dad orders pulling me back down onto my seat. I huff and cross my arms over my chest.
After a few more teachers repeating the same thing we are all fed up. My parents are a mixture of angry and disappointed. Just as we are about to leave I hear someone shout my name.
"Tommy, come over here!" I turn to the voice of my Gym teacher smiling broadly at me. Mr Trunchill is by far my favourite teacher.
"That's my new Gym teacher, do you want to talk to him?" I ask my parents hopefully. I knew I could count on him to give me a good report.
"No let's go, I don't give a shit about how you're doing in Gym." My Dad mutters grabbing my arm until my Mom stops him with a hand on his arm.
"Christian come on, you can't just brush off sport. Thomas loves Gym." She says calmly and leads the way over to the table, My Dad sighs but follows uninterested.
Mr Trunchill shakes my parents' hands and ruffles my hair comfortingly. "Mr and Mrs Grey, I can tell by the way you're etching to leave you don't think Gym is very important." He says with a grin and I return it.
"No that's not true at all," My Mom responds quickly not wanting him to feel offended, even though I know he didn't.
"We just prefer to concentrate on the academics." My Dad adds hastily.
"I don't blame you for that, I know Tommy is a very bright boy, however he is also a very talented soccer player. As you know last month he was offered a scholarship to Camber School of Sport but he turned it down, which I respect him for completely but you understand this proves how incredibly talented he is." Before he can carry on my Mother interrupts. Oh shit, this is going to worse than I expected.
"Thomas, you never told us you were offered a scholarship to that school." She says looking slightly hurt.
"I thought you said you spoke to your parents about it," Mr Trunchill comments with narrowed eyes.
I shrug my shoulders and look at the floor. "There was no point, I wouldn't have been allowed to go. They want me to stay at this school."
My Mom clasps my hand. "We could have discussed it, if you really want to go you can go, sweetheart."
I look up at her shocked. "Seriously?"
"I don't think the scholarship is still available." Mr Trunchill admits, earning a scoff off my father.
"I can afford to send my children wherever they wish to go, but he's not going to a sport school. I want him here where his brother and sister went. He's more than intelligent enough, he just needs to learn to apply himself." My Dad snarls and I roll my eyes.
"Christian, we can at least discuss it." My Mom responds sternly and they glare at each other.
"No we can't, Anastasia. Thomas is staying here, end of discussion." He snaps. My teacher leans forward on the table slightly, looking like he was about to confess some kind of big secret.
"With all due respect Mr Grey, maybe you should consider that this school might not be what Tommy needs. He obviously doesn't respond well to the teaching methods and your son might benefit from the approach a sport school could offer."
"What makes you able to tell me what's best for my son?" My Dad snaps.
"I know your son, I know the way he thinks and this school isn't for him. He's thinks outside the box, and this school teaches children to think inside the box."
My father stands up angrily. "Thank you for your time Mr Trunchill, we'll be seeing you next term as my son will be staying here."
He storms out of the school and my Mom follows him just as angry, although it's probably at him. I turn back to my teacher with a smirk before going after them.
I walk over to my parents arguing next to the car, but stand at a distance just listening. They aren't even aware of me standing there.
"I really appreciated you backing me up in there Anastasia, thanks a lot." My Dad seethes. He only calls my Mom by her full name when he is pissed at her.
"He is our son Christian, and he didn't tell us about the scholarship! Don't you think that's saying something?!" She shouts slapping him across the arm lightly.
"He knows we love him Ana! He just realised a sport school is stupid! I'm not having him there!" My Dad replies loudly. He runs his hand through his hair and turns to see me watching them.
"Thomas, come on we're leaving." He orders. My Mom turns around and sees me. She pulls me into a hug and strokes my hair.
"Sweetheart, please tell us if something like this happens again. We want to know about the things you do." She practically begs and I nod agreeing, but I get the feeling they don't really care.