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Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

24: Family Court

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Thursday, January 26 (cont.)

I watched the taillights of Emmett's truck disappear around the corner before I turned around. Dad lay on the couch with a groan, switching on the TV to watch Jin Cycling Around The World on YouTube (or something equally cycl-y). He hadn't wasted a nanosecond to change into sweatpants whereas mom was still in her slacks and a button-down. She could've lounged in pajamas all day and yet, mystifyingly, she changed into work clothes when working from home.

Scientists hadn't described her species yet.

Mom lifted her feet on an old stool, reached for a last year's copy of Cherry Bombe (she did not splurge on it often), poured dad and herself a glass of wine, and dove into her reading. Crossing my arms, I stared at my parents until both looked up.

"Family court." I shut off the TV, stole mom's magazine, and put their wine glasses on the TV stand.

Whenever I fucked up, my parents and I had a meeting about it, discussing it through, figuring out solutions and an appropriate punishment. We called it family court.

"What, why?" dad protested but pushed himself to sit up nevertheless. "Can you give us back our wine at least?"

"No. No. Because," I pointed at him with mom's rolled-up magazine. "You fucked up."

Mom's eyes flickered between us.

"What did I do?" dad asked, eyes wide.

"You agreed with Emmett that he should play my boyfriend."

"Bella, sweetie," dad replied, annoyed. "He can't play your cousin. All your friends know we're white. A giant black guy suddenly following you around as your cousin would raise more questions about your biological father than you simply finding a boyfriend from another school. You have to admit it would be pretty strange if a mysterious relative suddenly accompanies you everywhere."

"That's not the point! I don't care if he has to play my boyfriend to follow me around. I care that you made him believe that I knew about this arrangement!"

Dad stifled his smile. "Did he introduce himself to your friends as your boyfriend?"

"It's not funny, dad! Peter asked me out in the morning, so now Edward thinks I'm some kind of school slut."

Dad laughed, but I slapped his hands with my rolled-up magazine. "Dad. You should've seen his face. He looked so hurt. He must've thought I was the worst friend ever not to have told him about this."

Dad, unfazed, scratched his beard and looked at mom with a glint in his eye. "And you're sure he was hurt because you didn't tell him?"

"Of course he was."

Dad hummed. "And why didn't you tell us this during dinner when Emmett was here?"

"Because I told him you're the best parents ever! I defended you to him. I wish I hadn't since clearly you're a shithead, but I did, and I'm not going to give him more reasons to think you guys are the worst parents who ever lived."

During dinner, Emmett had not stopped arguing for why we should've already moved, but the more he spoke, the more my parents dug in their heels. Emmett had a way of steamrolling conversations that left little room for debate, but my parents were almost impressively stubborn. They deflected his concerns and had no intention of moving before absolutely necessary. My parents respected his perspective and experience, hoping it would prove useful moving forward, but they did not want to rush my childhood.

This, apparently, unbeknownst to me, was a continuing discussion my parents had also had with Tanya and NorthDust Studios.

Displeased but not surprised (probably because Emmett had told them all of this on their first meeting), Emmett still agreed to sign a contract to be my security detail. He'd take me to and from school, to and from set, and accompany me to any outings with my friends that didn't take place at their homes.

All in all, I wasn't thrilled about the setup but at least he'd leave me alone at school, and he agreed not to crash my first date with Peter, so that was nice. We were about to go through a bit of a trial period, learning to get to know and trust each other, seeing if we (all) got along, but it was weird to let someone into our family bubble, especially someone so impetuous.

"For punishment, I say dad loses his YouTube watching rights for a week."

"Hey!" dad protested. "All that happened was that you're now supposedly going out with two guys."

I narrowed my eyes at dad before pointing the magazine at mom. "Yeah, and all that happened when I didn't inform you guys of where I was on Tuesday was that I arrived home safe and sound, and I got a lifetime of calling people as punishment."

Mom took a loud breath before she slipped her feet on the floor and turned to dad. Quietly, she asked, "Did you really give Emmett the impression that Bella knew about this arrangement? I thought we agreed to discuss it together."

Dad had the decency to look ashamed. "I… might have."

"Why?"

Dad shifted, averting his eyes, but I saw a glint with amusement in them.

"You thought it would be funny!" I accused. "You little shit!"

Mom suppressed her smile while dad raised his arm in warning. "Don't talk to your father like that."

"I will when he behaves like a little shit."

Mom lost it. She muffled her laughter against her shoulder, and I wanted to stay mad but I, too, had to stifle my smile.

"Dad cannot watch YouTube for a week," I demanded.

"Family court is not for parents," dad argued, glancing at mom and expecting her approval.

Mom hesitated.

"You are not allowed to take dad's side! You cannot. You cannot expect me to live up to your standards but not hold yourselves up to it. It's hypocritical and it's not fair. Had I done anything similar to what dad did, you'd have summoned me to court. Admit it."

Mom lifted her shoulder and fought her smile as she pulled her hair up into a pony tail. "The girl's got a point."

"Of course I do."

"Nooo," dad drawled in disbelief. "You can't do this to me."

Mom shrugged. "It may be good for you to take a break. I'm sure all the cyclists will still be there if you don't watch them for a few days."

"You can't be serious," dad repeated, annoyed.

"Yes!" Jake hopped off the back of the couch when I jumped and threw my fist in the air. "Yes! Justice shall prevail."

"Until Monday," mom said, glancing up at me. "We'll block YouTube until Monday."

"What, why?"

Mom lifted her feet on the stool and motioned for me to hand over her magazine and wine glass. "I don't have more energy than that to deal with his boredom without his torchworking equipment."

"Aha!" I held her glass and magazine out of her reach, narrowing my eyes. "You're telling me that if I just keep complaining about having to call people forever you'll lift the punishment and do it yourselves? This is excellent information."

"No I—" My parents looked at each other as mom realized she'd stepped into a trap.

"I love it," I continued, grinning my face off as I handed her stuff back to her. "I will make sure to complain about my unfair punishment loud and often. Thank you, mom. You're the best."

Jake followed me when I skipped to my bedroom and changed into pajamas. When I returned to the living room, dad was lying on the couch, holding his glass of wine on his chest and staring at the ceiling, groaning like his life was over. He turned to see me and pouted.

"Didn't see that," I said. "Cold-hearted bitch here tonight."

I took the fleece throw from behind him and lay on the carpet with my phone and my homework.

"What'm'I supposed to do with my time?"

"Play chess with me, obviously."

"You play chess now?"

"Edward taught me." I smiled. "I'm so good I have a gambit named after me already."

"A gambit?" dad repeated, and we bantered as I began to do my Environmental Science homework. Dad helped me, not because I needed help but because he looked so sad without his TV, and I convinced him to buy us a chessboard tomorrow. I was almost done with homework when my phone vibrated with a video call.

Alice.

Dad straightened, mom put down her magazine, and you could've heard a pin drop as we stared at each other.

"This is it, huh?" I asked, sitting up to rest my back against the couch. My quick heart beat echoed in my ears in spite of the slow breaths I forced myself to take.

"Put her on loudspeaker," mom suggested.

I accepted the call.

Alice's tired face appeared in the darkness of her bedroom, her amber eyes wide and chin hidden behind her blanket. I gave her a careful smile. She pulled down her blanket and covered her mouth with her closed fist, eyes full of awe, shock, disbelief. We blinked at each other for a few agonizing seconds.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, gently, afraid of her silence.

"Does anyone else know?" she asked quietly, sounding like she was holding her breath.

"No," I admitted, heart beating out of my chest. "Nobody else."

"Oh my God." She exhaled, pulled the blanket over her head and made a tiny squeaking sound before she reappeared on the screen. Hair messy and eyes wild, she whispered, "I knew it was your handwriting, I knew it. I was never supposed to see that name on your script, was I? Oh my God. Oh my God. I was right. My best friend is… Nala. You're about to be the biggest thing since… anything. How am I supposed to go to school on Monday pretending everything is all hunky-dory? I thought—I thought, after last time, that maybe you were just a side character, but… you're actually Nala. And—Mike Newton is Mathys! He must be." Alice's grin didn't mask the wildness in her eyes. "Holy shit, you did kiss the sexiest man alive, and you didn't want him to be your first kiss?! I have… I have… so many questions."

"Alice," I said, scared of the sick-but-alert energy in her eyes.

"I'm on loudspeaker, aren't I?"

Dad and mom waved when I turned the screen toward them, and Alice suppressed her wild excitement. "Thank you for taking me home today, Renee."

Mom smiled. "Anytime, sweetie."

"I won't… I'll keep it in, promise. I know I babbled about Bella's crush, but… I'm not really like that. I know that this is important and you can trust me."

"We know, honey," mom said quietly. "We know."

Alice and I caught up on my date with Peter, my supposed boyfriend (but really my bodyguard), Alice's recovery from her illness and her parents' fight over letting her stay home tomorrow. Our interaction began to feel normal again, although sometimes her eyes would drink my face in, reminiscing or dreaming, and I caught moments when her overexcited smile failed to hide the near-sadness in her eyes. We agreed that she'd sleep over on Monday if she got well and her parents agreed with it, and when I cut the call, my parents and I looked at each other and let out a collective breath.

"One down," dad said, squeezing my shoulder and giving me a bittersweet smile. "Eight billion to go."

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