A short chapter, but I felt it to be a good stopping point.

Chapter 4: Public school is shit.

When he started home-schooling Dave, he brought the boy down to the shop, eyeing him to keep him on task while he was working, screwing a fan into his computer on the counter in front of him. Dave was crosslegged a few feet away with a math text book in front of him while Dick did his best to multitask, leaning over occasionally to check the seven year-old's work.

The shop's phone rang and they both jumped. Dick sighed and gave Dave a soothing pat to the shoulder.

Hold on. I've got to find out what this ass needs.

fuck them you promised you were going to work on algebra with me today

It's five minutes. Chill out little man.

Dick waved him off, reminding him that the yearly visit from their worker-then maybe some other nosey adults, was coming up as he snatched the phone off the cradle.

"Strider's Electronics. Richard Strider speaking. How might I help you."

"Mister Strider, you pulled David from school." A female voice growled out through the static on the line.

"Hello Melinda, How are you today? Lovely. Us? Oh, we're fine, coming down with a case of 'cold heartless bitch' but aside from that, I'm just helping Dave with his math while I work. Oh, before you ask, I signed him up for a perfectly respectable home-school program."

"Richard, this isn't a laughing matter."

"Do I sound like I'm laughing, Melinda? I'm more than capable of taking care of my business AND my kid. I'm twenty-four, Melinda,"

"And how are you managing to take care of him? Are you running between the shop and your apartment? Or perhaps you're leaving him to his own devices?"

Dick wandered to the back of the shop, holding a finger up to Dave as he moved, making sure dave couldn't eaves drop.

"You don't listen do you? I own my own business, free and clear. I'm just that good. I've got an off the charts I.Q. I own our apartment, which, while it's tiny, is perfectly liveable and comfortable. Yes, there are toys everywhere, but what are you going to do? He's seven?" well, they were Richard's puppets but who was he to split hairs when he was trying to make a point. "I'm capable of taking care of my son, of teaching him everything he needs to know-from rudimentary English to self defence. I've had six and a half years of being a parent. I took two years of parenting classes. I've taken father-son ASL classes. And family bonding is a non-issue since we live in close quarters and are all up in each other's business twenty-four hours a day." he scowled into his phone then carried on in a more dramatic tone. "You and your social worker ways, bent on proving me to be a horrible person who won't watch Sesame Street if my kid wants me to? God Melinda. What else is there for me to do? How do I prove to you shits that I don't need babysitting?"

"What about the last time I was visiting and he was watching restricted channels? What happened then?"

"He's a smart kid. He hacked the cable and gave us more channels. In my defence I installed a V-Chip and he hacked that too. He learns pretty quick." He shrugged, scowling as Dave scooted down the counter to take over his computer, and rubbed his forehead when both Pesterchum and Paint were opened up. At least the kid was entertained.

"Fine, Strider. Tell me why you pulled David then?"

"Oh god. First: His name isn't David. Check out his records. He's legally 'Dave Jake Strider'. Second, his teacher was trying to convince him that humans were intelligently designed. Let's face it. we weren't." Dick said nonchalantly.

"Oh god, you're kidding. That can't be the reason. Quit playing around, Strider. This is serious business."

"I never kid around where Dave is concerned. It gets worse. the kid was being hassled for his differences-which some may call a disability but I honestly don't see it having hampered his life at all. He's quick witted and brilliant, but he takes emotional bombardment easy. He's a sweet kid. Most smart kids actually are. You should have seen the look on his face when I said 'no' at first. You'd think he was being physically hurt." he sighed, leaning against a wall. "Worse, still: He was being hassled for having his mom follow him around the school."

"I don't see how that's a problem. He could have ignored them." Melinda stated, exasperated.

"He doesn't have a mom" Strider said, biting his cheek before carrying on with the practiced response. "Look, Melinda. He asked about his mom years ago, and I couldn't lie to him. His mom handed him to me the day he was born and said 'You do it. I don't fucking want it.'" he ground his teeth, glaring at one of the towers in front of him. "The bitch didn't want him. I wasn't going to tell him 'your mom died in a horrible accident.' Because as much as you'd think I wish that shit happened to her for doing that to our kid, I don't wish death on anyone. I've lost too many people in my short life to want to see anyone else tied to me pass."

"I meant the religious teachings in school." She hissed, and he could practically hear her rubbing her forehead. "You can't be serious. You have no religious beliefs?"

"Melinda, if we were created intelligently we'd all have flying cars and Brussels sprouts wouldn't taste like ass cleverly disguised as a leafy green vegetable." he huffed. "Commercial space travel would be a thing that exists and pizza would be a vegetable. You could grow it on a plant in your house. We're not intelligently designed. Shit that would be infinitely useful just doesn't exist."

"I don't understand how you're serious. Religion is an import-"

"I don't care what you personally believe. You're welcome to your own opinions, but religious education or lack thereof is still in the hands of parents and guardians as far as I'm concerned so it doesn't have bearing on your decisions here. My general point is: I don't agree with the education he was receiving, and even if I did I wouldn't have him learning it in a place where he's being bullied to the point where he couldn't actually absorb anything." As he directed his attention to the dinging bell, a customer walked in.

He bit his teeth to keep from cursing as a man with a fedora and a pipe stepped in.

"Mister strider i-"

"Can we do this later, Melinda? As much as I love hearing your gorgeous voice telling me what a shitty dad I am, I have a customer and I have to earn some bread and meat for my darling, 'disabled' albino child. goodbye." he clicked the line shut and darted to the front, crossing the shop in a flash step, setting a hand on Dave's shoulder. "Go to the back, kiddo. Bro's got business with the asshole in white" he glared at the man in his pressed business shirt and white slacks, hefting Dave from the counter to the ground, pointing toward the back.

Because the rest of what's written down would have us here for a week. Nope. gif