Two years later
I swayed in the plastic chair, humming a Wanks and Janks song under my breath. It was the middle of the school day. I was missing free choice time. Again. This was my third visit to the office in the same week. Sigh. By the time I returned, all the good choices like board games, Play-Doh and puppets would be taken.
Mrs. Richards, the dour-faced headmistress, had placed me in the hallway. “I’m calling your father this time,” she’d said. I’d been waiting for what felt like an eternity. Tugging at the scratchy collar of my uniform shirt, I wished I could remove it. I’d taken it off once before, leaving me in the checkered jumper sans shirt. Mrs. Inglewood, my nanny, had been appalled. Being half-naked in public wasn’t ladylike. Billy had been delighted. Being half-naked in public was very rock ’n’ roll-like.
The double doors swung open and Billy entered in a cloud of smoke. Dark sunglasses obscured his eyes. He was dressed in all black, his clothes wrinkled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. This was highly likely. Usually, Mrs. Inglewood drove me to school. If Billy weren’t on tour, he’d pick me up and take me to the zoo, or the recording studio, or just home, where we’d eat snacks and watch cartoons. Most days Billy seemed more friend than father.
I smiled, seeing Billy wasn’t alone. Jett Janks, the other half of the band Wanks and Janks, followed close behind. Jett was an amazing guitarist. But even more amazing was his hair, wild, curly and long, it reminded me of an electric cloud. I’d learned to braid on it.
“Uncle Jett!” I cried, jumping from my seat, wrapping my arms around his waist. Jett wasn’t as tall as Billy nor as thin. But he was strong. Sometimes I’d go stiff as a board and Jett would lift me as if bench-pressing weights.
“What trouble did you get into now, little bird?” Billy tugged one of my pigtails. Releasing Jett, I scowled up at my father. “It wasn’t my fault.”
Billy removed his sunglasses and rolled his eyes. “It’s never your fault.”
“This time it really wasn’t.” Cue foot-stomping.
“We’ll see about that,” Billy said. He sauntered to the front desk where Mrs. Paulson, the secretary, watched them. Billy leaned forward, into Mrs. Paulson’s space. A blush crept from her ample bosom to her forehead. “Hey there, love. Could you do me a favor and let Mrs. Dicks know Addison’s old man is here?”
Mrs. Paulson nodded. Pushing a button on the intercom, she stammered into the receiver, “Mrs. Di… I mean Mrs. Richards. Addison’s father is here.”
“Send them in,” came the curt reply.
“Go ahead,” Mrs. Paulson said. “Third door on your right.”
Billy winked. “Oh, we know the way. Don’t we, little bird?” Billy grabbed my hand, pulling me down the hallway. “You coming, Jett?” Billy called back.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Jett smirked, following.
“Wait, Billy.” I halted.
My father turned to me. “What is it, little bird? You got something you want to tell your old man before we go in there?”
A crook of my finger, and Billy leaned down. “It was kind of my fault.” I played with my hands. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Parker Woods took my crayons and…”
“And?”
One huge breath for bravery. “And I… I put superglue on his chair,” I finished, feeling better after confessing, but I’d deliberately left out the worst part. When Parker went to stand, his pants had ripped, torn straight down the middle, and he’d effectively mooned the entire class. Who knew Parker Woods didn’t wear underwear? Someone should speak to his mother about that.
“Did you?” Billy quirked a brow.
“Yes,” I said firmly.
“Thank you for telling me. I forgive you.”
I beamed as if blessed by the pope. Billy knocked once on Mrs. Richards’ door and walked through. We settled into the chairs in front of Mrs. Richards’ desk. Jett lounged against the wall, unlit cigarette hanging loose from his mouth.
“Mr. Wanks and Mr…” Mrs. Richards raised a brow, a pointed look at Jett.
“Janks, love,” Jett said. His voice made gravel seem smooth. “Jett Janks.”
Mrs. Richards recognized the name. “Mr. Wanks, you brought your band mate to a meeting at your daughter’s school?” Her tone was even, but the tightness of her lips spoke volumes.
Billy grew indignant. “Hey, now, curb the judgment, Richards. Jett’s much more than a band mate. He’s like Addy’s second parent.”
Mrs. Richards’ cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wanks, I didn’t know that you were… That you are…”
Billy snorted. “I love the ladies, Richards. I’m not gay,” he stated emphatically. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Nothing wrong with that at all,” Jett echoed in his deep voice.
“That band that opened for us two summers ago, they had a drummer who was gay, yeah?” Billy turned, asking Jett.
Jett scratched his stubbly cheek. “No, it was the lead guitarist, and I think he was bi.”
“What’s gay? What’s bi?” I asked.
Billy swiveled to me. “Shi—I mean shoot, little bird, I wasn’t planning on having this conversation with you until you were older. Like thirty or so. But I guess now is as good a time as any. When a man and woman, or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman—”
“Or a man and a man and a woman,” Jett chimed in.
Billy smiled. “Right, thanks, mate. Or when a man and a man and a woman really love each other or like each other or feel attracted—”
“Mr. Wanks!” Mrs. Richards practically yelled. She put her hand to her chest. “Can we please focus?”
Jett coughed out a laugh.
Billy grinned, all white teeth. “Oh, right, sorry. We’ll talk about this at home, little bird.” He plucked my nose.
I nodded, eyes as big as saucers.
“Now, Mr. Wanks,” Mrs. Richards said, spreading her hands on her desk, “regarding Addison, this is the third time this week she’s been sent to my office. I fear that Addison’s behavior in the classroom is a reflection of her unusual, unstructured home environment.”
Billy stuck a finger in his ear, pretended to clean it out. “I’m sorry, Richards, but it sounds an awful lot like you’re calling me a crap parent. Did you hear that, Jett?”
“I heard it, mate. I heard it,” said Jett.
Mrs. Richards was quick to correct, to cover. “Mr. Wanks, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Addison is a very spirited young lady—”
Billy leaned forward. “That’s right. She is spirited. And she doesn’t do shi—crap unprovoked. I say that Parker kid had it coming.”
“Had it coming,” Jett echoed.
I dipped my chin in agreement. He totally had it coming. Thievery would not be tolerated. Not on my watch. I had a very strong sense of justice.
Mrs. Richards took a deep breath. “Be that as it may, Mr. Wanks, I’m no longer sure Berkshire Academy is the right learning institution for Addison.”
Billy’s face changed, his eyes narrowed and his cheeks flushed. “You’re kicking her out? After all I’ve done for this school? I coughed up a hundred grand at the school auction and my band played.” Heavy pause. “For free.”
“We appreciate your generous contributions, Mr. Wanks. But I have other students to think of, and Addison is a continuous disruption. Perhaps if the circumstances of her home life were dramatically changed, we may reconsider, but until then…” she trailed off.
“This is bullshit.” Billy stood, face outraged. “My little bird is an angel. An angel. You know what? You’re not kicking her out. I’m withdrawing her. Effective immediately.” He held out his hand to me. I knew better than to not take it. “C’mon.” To Mrs. Richards he said, “I’ll have someone come by later and get her stuff.”
“Mr. Wanks, please, I can give you referrals to other schools.” Mrs. Richards rose.
“Forget it, Mrs. Dicks. We’ll be just fine on our own. Won’t we, bird?” he asked. Again, I knew better than to disagree. I nodded.
We bolted.
As we settled into Billy’s car, an all-black sedan with a winged hood ornament, I looked in my lap forlornly and picked at my thumbnails. “I’m sorry, Billy.” I was nothing but trouble. Mama had said so plenty of times.
Billy turned the steering wheel. “Forget about it, yeah? As far as I’m concerned you shouldn’t have ever gone there. That was my mistake. You belong with Uncle Jett and me. You’ll come on the road with us. I’ll get you another nanny and the best tutors available.”
“I was bad,” I said. “I’m bad.” A hot tear slipped down my cheek. I never told Billy—I never told anyone—but I thought of Mama a lot. Sometimes nice thoughts, like when Mama bought a real live Christmas tree. We strung lights up all over the apartment, drank eggnog and listened to carols. And sometimes not-so-nice thoughts, like when Mama would have “guests” over. I would have to stay in my room all night. In the morning, I’d clean the apartment, sweeping cigarette butts and empty bottles into the trash. Good girls didn’t have shit like that happen to them.
Billy slipped on his sunglasses. “You listen to me, little bird. You aren’t bad. You heard Mrs. Dicks. You’re spirited. You’re an angel, isn’t that right, Jett?”
In the passenger seat, Jett nodded sagely. “An angel, mate. An angel amongst devils.”