A/N: Its a New Years miracle! I managed to squeeze out one more chapter before the year was out!
Thanks for the kind words! It wasn't my intention necessarily to lower your defenses with the fluffier chapters we've seen. This was an inevitable place for our story to go. While Tori had her long journey of mourning and acceptance, Mia was only a kid when she lost her dad and now is just a bigger kid, she's not an adult yet. That kind of maturity comes with time and Mia clearly has unresolved trauma.
Now, I want to take this opportunity to announce that (YES, it's true!) there will be a sequel to VictoriNEXT eventually. But just like this one, a lot of planning and plotting needs to take place first. As much as I'd like to, I can't just jump into it. I have some lighter stories I'd like to dust off the shelf and bring to all of you in the meantime while I think about PART 2.
This was originally going to be a one and done, that's why I put so much thought and heart into it! But I had so many new characters that I fell in love with that you seemed to respond well to, I just couldn't give everybody their due here. I also didn't want to introduce plot for its own sake. I wanted to really examine these characters, showing how much they have grown and continue to grow.
And yes, I appreciate you all mourning my old computer. It sucks but it was a long time coming. I tried everything to revive it, but it was going on 13 years, so it was time. Luckily, my library hours are getting back to normal, and I can hit that in the morning before work, I can get a tight two hours in which is tremendous. This can save me and not have to make you lovely people wait more than a week!
Enjoy and drop me a line!
14 days.
2 weeks.
1 fortnight.
That was Mia Vega-Larson's prison sentence.
At least she wasn't sent to the Tower of London, or Gitmo, or Rikers Island.
Mia was sequestered to her home until she was allowed to return to school. She had been in trouble before, but nothing like this.
When the rage finally receded like the morning tide, and Mia had her wits about her, it hit her hard that she really fucked up this time.
She had detention, Saturday detention, in-school suspension, regular suspension. And even that went no further than three days.
But this was very different.
Dr. Ivy called up Tori, saying that despite everything, they would like to continue with Mia's sessions at least over the phone or maybe virtually. Tori was grateful for the good therapist's efforts, but she had to politely decline. Mia wasn't interested in talking to anyone, not even Ivy. They were disappointed that Mia was closing up, but they knew that Mia had to process this in her own way. It cannot be rushed.
Obviously, the root of the problem hadn't been addressed and real deep-seated regret and anger lingered inside of her. Ivy was encouraging towards Mia, recognizing that some progress had been made in general and after she started going to therapy in particular. Mia regressing wasn't out of the question; these things happen, especially in a patient this young. Trauma was already a field of thick brambles. Adolescent hormones and just the cruelty kids and teens face put added stress on an already fragile foundation.
"If anything changes, Tori," Dr. Ivy told her. "You have my cell."
Tori had been putting off her own sessions as well, but Ivy decided not to push the issue. They figured Tori had a lot on her plate right now.
Like Mia, she will come when ready.
Ever since she came home from school, Mia had her phone turned off.
All calls from her friends went straight to voicemail. And texts sat in digital limbo, nowhere to go.
She spent days in her room, only occasionally venturing out to use the bathroom.
Tori had offered her food regularly, offering to make whatever she wanted when she got home, but Mia refused. Before leaving for work in the morning, Tori asked Mia to promise her that she would eat something. She got no response. On the way to school, Tori asked Miles if he could check in on her while she was away. She was so worried about her daughter that Tori entertained the idea of burning through some sick days to stay home with her.
Unfortunately, as the principal, nobody was there to fill out the necessary paperwork on her behalf, so she had to at least report to work today.
Entering her office, Tori was surprised by the presence of Don Spiner.
"Good morning, Tori."
"Don!" she blurted out. "What are you doing here?"
He investigated her desk, taking notice of a crystal swan next to Tori's nameplate.
"I think you know what this is regarding," he said with a heavy sigh.
Tori set down her bag and took off her coat.
"Mia."
"Right," he nodded. "Tori, I like you. I really do. But this is one incident too many!"
She didn't say anything to that as she approached her desk and sat down. Don sat across from her.
"This is very serious, indeed."
"I know," Tori sighed, joining her hands together. "And I already stated in my report that the damages will be covered."
Don shifted in his chair.
"I'm afraid it has become more complicated than that, Tori."
Her heart felt like a bowling ball sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
"Oh?"
"I understand that you suspended Mia for two weeks, which I'm in agreement with. Don't get me wrong. But the school board feels that something...more needs to be done."
Tori sat up much straighter, bringing back her hands.
"Like what?"
"That's for the panel to figure out," he replied.
"Panel?" asked Tori. "I don't understand..."
Don dug into his blazer and presented her with a tri-folded paper.
She accepted it and opened it to see.
"Wait, I'm being put on trial?"
"Tribunal, actually," Don corrected. "Standard procedure for serious accusations against students, faculty, and..."
"Me," she finished.
Spiner stood up and looked down at Tori sympathetically.
"I'm sorry, Tori. But you must report to the school board tomorrow morning. If you don't, you forfeit your position."
Tori stood up fast.
"They're firing me?" she sternly asked.
"They will if you don't show," he explained. "Investigations by the district are taken seriously and yes, participation is mandatory."
The Latina looked down at her desk, staring at the official document below her.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "Really."
Don then turned and left, leaving a dejected Tori feeling like the ground was giving way from under her.
Mia was curled up in her bed, agonizing over the harsh, evil things someone anonymously sent to her.
She bet they didn't have the balls to say any of those things to her face, or they would have to use the ramps around school.
Her clenched hands were under her pillow which housed the locket Sam gave her.
If there was one treasure that she kept safe, it was that.
Nothing fancy, just a sterling necklace with a heart-shaped locket. But the man who gave it to her and how close it was to her last memories of him made it more precious than the Hope Diamond. All of the royal jewels owned by the Queen of England couldn't compare to what she had. It mattered more than anything.
As much comfort as it had given her, Mia was hesitant to wear it as frequently as she had. She was paranoid it would get lost or even stolen. All it would take was the chain to break and it would be gone forever.
There have been lots of pictures of her and her father, some around the house, while others were strictly digital finding home on social media. Tori likely had a bunch of these still in her external hard drive. However, Mia never saw this picture of her father holding her as a baby anywhere else. Her mother must have taken the picture. Or her uncle. But she had never seen this among her baby pictures growing up before and hadn't found it since.
Mia wondered if the picture of him and her father was also one of a kind.
The thought of some creep stealing the necklace just to pawn it, discarding the picture inside, made her stomach turn.
But perhaps it was for a different reason.
She realized she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. Her appetite came in waves when she was down but when it came back, it returned with a vengeance.
The growling was torture. Her body was practically screaming at her for sustenance.
Mia grumbled and sat up.
She then smelled her shirt and was even more put off by the smell than her hunger. Mia may have gone more than 12 hours without food, but it definitely had been a couple of days since she took a shower.
"Fuck me," Mia huffed and reached for something - anything - to throw on after she took a quick, scalding shower.
Once she was rid of the stink, she settled into the kitchen to fix up something.
Mia opened the fridge and there was some leftover BBQ chicken. She figured a source of protein was as good as anything, though in her current state something smothered in chocolate would have been preferred.
When she sat down, she noticed her phone was still in her room turned off. Not wanting to turn it back on and risk the brick blowing up with missed calls and messages; Mia noticed her mom's laptop. She reached for it and opened it up, thinking of probably logging onto YouTube to get her mind off things.
It wasn't locked, so Mia went and opened the browser.
She was about to type in the website address when a tab caught her eye.
Her mom had this habit of not closing out older tabs when she was done with something. Sometimes as much as a hundred active tabs would pop up, Mia telling her mom that she needs to take care of that if she wants the Internet to run faster.
Mia must have clicked on something without knowing because it catapulted her to the oldest tab on the browser: webpage accessed 11 years ago! There were tabs researching music theory and real-world applications to help students better comprehend the lessons.
(This must have been around when mom started teaching.)
She surprisingly got into the distraction a little, seeing the amount of work Tori put into her music teacher job. A smirk appeared on her face while she chowed down on the cold chicken. Mia normally heated up leftovers but when it came to chicken or pizza or chili, she enjoyed them much more ice cold.
As Mia jumped from tab to tab, it was like watching the progression of a timeline.
Tori was looking up her old friends on Google, her friend Andre Harris had a Wikipedia page and Beck Oliver, whoever he was, had an IMDb page.
(This is pretty cool.)
Tab after tab...
- Italian restaurants in the area.
- Record turntable repair.
- Dancing schools for children.
That last one made Mia stop in her tracks.
(That's right. That lady who had the upstairs dance studio. I remember the other girls and one or two boys, but they were okay.)
She closed her eyes and could picture the inside of that academy. That certain smell was also there. Mia also remembered vividly Sam picking her up at the end. She couldn't think of a time when it was her mom or even Uncle Miles. It was always her dad.
Mia bumped the cursor pad on the laptop, and it made a tab open up several tabs down, showing a funeral home.
Her breath hitched at seeing that.
The website for the funeral home just advertised their location and touted the services they provided.
She shook her head and closed the tab, not wanting to think about such things right now.
That made the tab next to it pop open, showing a news article. The story was about the mass shooter at the local supermarket.
Fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks as she read the details, reporting the figures of those injured or killed. It was horrifying that some random asshole could just walk into a public place and destroy as many people as possible. It made her sick.
Not able to eat anymore, she pushed the rest of the chicken aside and scrolled to the bottom of the article, which had a hyperlink to a related story. Mia clicked on the text underlined in blue and it transported her to a follow-up article listing the victims of the aforementioned massacre.
Sure enough, Sam Larson was listed among the deceased.
Mia lowered her head and sobbed into her folded arms on the table. After nearly an hour of weeping, she wanted to see something for herself. The images of her mom breaking down, the general sadness felt, the simple emotions were all there. But much of that day was still a blur. She was only eight.
She needed to know, so she clicked the back button to go to the original article.
According to the report, the shooting occurred on Saturday, February 26, 2022.
Mia couldn't believe it when she checked the calendar on the wall; that was only a day away. Nine years ago tomorrow, Mia's father was taken from her. Then something went off in her head that made her blood freeze.
She distinctly remembered going to school as a kid and going right home, sometimes to the shop and then upstairs. But the dance class after school was never a thing, right?
(Dad would take me on...Saturdays!)
Mia swore openly as she re-read the date of the terrifying event in black and white.
Her father had to have been taking her to dance class at the time. If he hadn't...maybe...maybe...
The teen rose from the table, making the whole thing rattle.
She clutched her chest, hyperventilating from the revelation.
(Fuck. FUCK. FUCK! FUCK!)
Mia raced upstairs to her room and locked the door before collapsing on her bed and sobbing uncontrollably.
Tori came home a few hours later, tired from the tumultuous day at school.
She locked eyes with Miles, who was sitting on the couch.
"Hey, Tori," he said, some strain in his voice.
"You alright?" Tori asked. "Thanks again for checking in on Mia."
Miles glanced upstairs toward his niece's room, where the door remained shut.
"Anytime," he sighed. "She's in really bad shape."
Tori threw down her things, not caring very much where they landed. She just needed to shed it all because nothing was going to distract her from what is going on right now.
"Here," Miles said, walking into the kitchen. "I made a pot like 45 minutes ago."
Coffee sounded really good about now, so Tori followed and sat down. Her eyes quickly noticed the open laptop. The screen was blank, battery must have died.
"There was also some chicken laying around, guess Mia got something in her system after all, so I put that away."
Tori clutched her chest.
"Thank God she ate something. I was worried."
She collected the laptop, closed it and plugged it into a charger on the edge of the counter.
"Thought I turned it off," Tori sighed.
"So, from what I gathered, some punk sent her some messages mocking her dad?"
Tori nodded solemnly.
"You can't blame her for reacting the way she did."
Miles shook his head.
"Oh, hell no. Never. If I was her and someone did that to me, I'd lose my cool."
Tori walked over to a picture of Sam that was sitting on the end table. Miles came up behind her.
"He was a great man," he said. "And Mia's a good kid. Neither of them deserve that bullshit."
"I mean...I just don't know what to do!" Tori said shakily.
"It's only natural that she would feel sad and if someone badmouthed someone who was near and dear to you, you'd react."
She kissed her hand and placed it on Sam's picture.
"Mia is a good kid," Tori agreed. "And I just know that if it was any other girl, she wouldn't be punished for having her heart ripped in half, to have her emotions stomped on!" She kicked her purse across the room a few feet. "Why is it that they don't give two shits about bullying until the one who was picked on fights back?"
Miles nudged her.
"You tell me, you're the principal."
Tori folded her arms.
"Don't be so sure."
"Wait, what do you mean?" he asked.
"Apparently I have to report to the school board tomorrow. A lot of dust is being kicked up from this situation and its all bullshit!"
He brought her into a hug while she cried.
"I know some people weren't happy with me getting the job but dammit, I tried my hardest! Now, I swear, Miles; they're just using my daughter as leverage!"
Miles helped lead Tori to the sofa.
"I would die for that girl," Tori pointed.
"I know," Miles nodded.
"Then why am I so scared right now?" she asked.
Mia knew her mom was home, probably talking to Uncle Miles.
She didn't want them to hear her bawling.
The teen buried her face in her pillow and screamed into it, the case soaked from her tears.
Mia had never felt this awful in her life, the conceit that her father was put in harm's way (even tangentially) because of her was so beyond. Any logical person would tell you that this was a completely random occurrence that, sadly, happens more often than one cares to admit. But when you are aching over the untimely death of someone this close to you, logic can fuck off. The brain can never shout louder than the heart crying.
She paid no attention to the clock or anything. Her phone was still off. It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered.
Mia continued to pour out her emotions until she gave up physically and succumbed to sleep.
Crying until she had nothing left was becoming a nightly thing.
The next day, Tori was dressed in her usual work attire for the meeting with the district.
She was highly disappointed that she couldn't stay home for Mia's sake. Tori was prepared to use all the personal time she garnered so that her daughter wouldn't go through her punishment alone.
Tori just wanted to get this dog and pony show out of the way so she could focus on her girl's well-being.
(What the fuck is HE doing here?!)
Edgar DiBiase hung back, sitting in an empty row away from the main action. But the acoustics ensured all could be heard even from the cheap seats.
(Honestly, why does this surprise me? I can see how I ended up on the school board's radar!)
Tori ignored her insufferable colleague and sat down at a lone table with a microphone leaning toward her.
Before Tori was a panel of six individuals from the district. Don and an older woman sat in the middle.
"Thank you for coming on time, Mrs. Vega-Larson," the lady said.
(Yeah, like you gave me the choice.)
"I am Pauline Sheppard. And I trust you are acquainted with Superintendent Spiner."
"Yes," Tori nodded.
"May we proceed?" requested Don. "This hearing is in response to the incident last week concerning your daughter, Mia Vega-Larson."
Tori drew in a deep breath, held it and released it.
"Mia it seemed," the lady beside him continued. "Reacted violently, willfully destroying school property."
"That feels reductive, ma'am," Tori said. "She took out her frustrations but made a point not to put her hands on another student."
Don cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry but I just find the term violently pretty accusatory."
A fellow a bit older than Tori on the end chimed in.
"Permit me, but was that before or after Mia took a swing at Edgar DeBiase."
The man gave a smug grin at the mention of his name.
Tori leaned in his direction.
"It was an accident, sir."
That made Edgar frown.
"Be that as it may..."
"Excuse me!" Tori interrupted. "Are we just going to side-step the blatant attack on Mia? What happened didn't just fall out of the sky!"
Sheppard attempted to regain the floor.
"We are aware of the alleged bullying that led up this this incident. However, our investigation is hampered because the computer in question is now unusable."
"Apparently, Mia's pointed assault on the computer severely damaged the motherboard."
"Look, the things my daughter described to me was some of the darkest, most hateful things I have heard. This wasn't just some kid trying to ruin my daughter's day! Is it really difficult to put yourself in her shoes and see why dragging her deceased father through the mud would trigger her?"
"Have you considered therapy?" asked Sheppard.
"YES!"
Everyone turned to see Dr. Ivy Leonard appear in the room.
"I would like to inform the board that Mia Vega-Larson has in fact been seen by me for the last three months now. She has a history of trauma and PTSD and we've only scratched the surface."
They gave Tori a supportive look. She appreciated that at least somebody here was on her side.
"What we need is understanding, not arbitrary punishment."
"Thank you, Dr." said Don. "We admire you coming down here in defense of Mia's character and mental health but..."
"What he's trying to say is," Sheppard continued. "Is that we don't want to give the impression that this sort of outburst will be tolerated."
Tori narrowed her eyes.
"What are you inferring, ma'am?"
"The delicate situation we have with a student attending our school and their parent working for that same school."
She crossed her arms with a more intense scowl. Jade would be proud.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think our situation, as you called it, was so unique."
Don looked at Sheppard with a sigh.
"You see, as they say, something has to give. Had Mia been a model student, we wouldn't be having this discussion."
Tori was not interested in what Donald had to say anymore at this point. He was sounding just as close-minded as his peers.
She stood up in defiance.
"If you are implying that I have covered up for my daughter, then you're way off base!"
"Mrs. Larson, sit down."
"I'd rather stand, ma'am."
"These are your options, Tori." Don just looked defeated. "You can step down as principal of Hollywood Arts, or you can relocate Mia to another school."
(Bastards.)
"Force me to resign or expel my own daughter," shot Tori, mouth hanging open.
"I'm sorry," shrugged Sheppard. "But it would be beneficial for all involved if you didn't work where your daughter attended."
"If you need time to..."
Tori pushed out her chair, the movement sending a strong echo.
"No need," she huffed. "I resign."
Don sighed as he presented her with a brown folder.
(Of course they had the paperwork ready.)
Tori marched up, expressionless, and snatched it.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to check on my daughter. And when she returns, I expect her to be left alone."
"No further disciplinary action will be given...pending the replacement of the damaged computer," Sheppard said.
"I'll send you a check," Tori growled.
The Latina grabbed her things and charged out the door.
"Tori, wait!" Ivy reached out. "You can't..."
"I'm really grateful that you came down here, Ivy. But..." her voice cracked. "...it's over."