Johnny drove his dad's old car home; the engine regularly made an anxiety-inducing racket. It was an old Ford; his dad was incredibly reluctant to let him drive it to school, but after years of his mother pleading, he finally agreed. Instead of heading home immediately, he took a drive on his own, parking up and smoking away from his mother. She had no idea about his bad habits, but she wasn't naive enough to believe he was an angel. The driveway was empty until he pulled up; his mom usually walked home as Johnny's trip was farther than hers. His mom had already made dinner by the time he arrived, as it was almost six o'clock. Their house was a small single-story that hadn't been renovated since the 1970s; it was all they could afford in their move. The wallpaper was covered in a grungy layer of what was probably five decades' worth of nicotine and cooking fat.
"Johnny, it's nice to see you finally came home," she said as he strode through the door. "Go and wash up, I'm going to get dinner ready."
The two of them sat at opposite ends of the table. She had made him meatloaf and mashed potatoes; it looked almost furry. His mom wasn't the best of cooks, but he appreciated that she tried. His dad was away on the military base, thankfully. His dad usually didn't speak much to Johnny; most of the time, he would yap on about politics. He was like a preacher at church, except he preached about stale political views. Thankfully it was just the two of them eating together. Though his mom wished he would at least bring some company over. No friends, no girlfriends, nothing.
She gently spoke up and asked, "Have you made any friends yet? Is that why you came home so late?"
Johnny stopped chewing and glanced up at her. He slightly laughed with a mouthful of food and shook his head rhythmically. "Yeah, of course, tons of people; in fact, I've decided to sign up for Bible study too,"
She rolled her eyes and played along. "I see, where was this interest in the Bible when I would drag you to church as a kid?" She watched him continue to scarf down the rubbery loaf. "I'm just happy you weren't in detention; Miss Bloodgood said she would let me know if you got into any trouble."
The room went silent apart from the sound of Johnny's loud chewing; it was clear he was struggling with the shoe leather texture.
"I heard school have music lessons on Wednesday's, not that I think you need lessons," She chuckled. "But I heard the teacher is the phantom,"
"The phantom?" He butted in looking up from the slop.
"He's a very esteemed monster in his field, I'm surprised they managed to get him; there must've been something in it for him," She pondered. "Maybe you could sit in on a lesson, I hear you can just turn up, no need to book for the first lesson,"
"I'm not joining some stupid choir club, you sound just like that counsellor lady from this mornin'" Johnny grumbled as he finished the rest of his almost edible food.
"It's not a choir club," she said irritably. "And you might actually make some friends."
He scoffed arrogantly. "We'll see." He got up and took both their plates to the sink. "I'll clear up tonight," he said.
Operetta eventually decided to walk home. As much as she didn't want to walk in her heeled boots, she didn't want to have to face her dad either. She opened the large wooden front door to see an empty hallway. Her father was probably up in his office grading the music theory homework he had doled out.
She shouted, "Daddy! I'm home!" Her voice echoed up the staircase.
She dragged herself up to her room; her bag felt like it was full of rocks. As she reached her bed, she collapsed onto her back, staring up at the dark wooden ceiling. Her head pounded around her temples; it felt as if she had a marching band in her brain.
"Operetta?!" Her father yelled from his study.
She sighed heavily. "Yeah, dad?"
He said, "I've spoken to the school counselor about getting you a tutor; she wants to speak to you one day next week."
She exclaimed, "You're joking!" as she shot up from her bed. "I said I would deal with it!"
"Operetta I'm not arguing with you, it's your choice as to whether you go or not, but she's expecting you," He scoffed.
She angrily pushed herself back onto the bed. Her hands covered her eyes as she felt her head spinning into soup. He really decided to test her patience every day of his life. When he first enrolled her in school, she had to see Miss Tanglevine at least twice a week. She wasn't a bad lady by any means, but she often prided herself on knowing too much about the personal lives of her students. She loved to pretend she was just gossiping with her besties, especially with the ghouls. Miss Tanglevine hadn't seen her in at least a year. Operetta wasn't looking forward to their reunion.
