Girls Don't Know Jack

World's Proudest Father

♫ GROWING UP IS ____ - Ruel

The sound of familiar stomping footsteps begin to grow closer, and the drumming in my chest only beats harder.

"What did I do?" the voice calls out, rounding the corner into the room. Jack stops when he sees me sunken into the large chair. He bites onto his cheek, eyeing me before glancing back to Principal Wells.

"Jack, sit," she instructs harshly. In a huff, he plops into the matching chair next to me, long legs stretched out, he taps one anxiously.

Desperate, I stare at the side of his head with big eyes attempting to telepathically plead, please don't hate me.

But I can feel the heated anger radiating from him. His jaw tenses as he stares forward, purposefully ignoring me.

"Jack, Molly here has informed me you may have given her drugs," Principal Well explains and all the air leaves my body.

I'm not a rat—she forced it out of me! I want to scream, but nothing comes out.

At her words, he turns to glare at me. His once soft, perfect brown eyes are replaced with a storm of fury. I can feel the laser heat burn into my cheeks.

"Is this true, Jack?" she interrogates, forcing him to remove his eyes from me to stare at the floor.

The boy shrugs, picking at the wooden armrest of his chair.

"This is a serious matter," our principal says, sounding at her wits end. "This could jeopardize your enrollment here at Wilcrest."

Panic creeps up on me—I didn't mean for any of this.

Seeming taken aback by that as well, Jack jumps forward in his seat. "Aunt Leslie, this isn't fair—"

Did he just say aunt?

I glance to the woman behind the desk and then back to Jack. That time I was eavesdropping and caught them in an embrace suddenly makes a lot more sense.

"I know, but you knew the rules when you started here," she says to him softly. Jack's face drops and he shakes his head. He no longer looks angry—he looks devastated.

My heart breaks into a million tiny pieces as he jumps from the chair.

"Jack—please wait," she calls out to him. But he's already stomping out of the room, disappearing as he rounds the corner.

Exhausted, Principal Wells focuses back on me. "Molly, I've already called your parents. Depending on their reaction, we can decide what measures to take in response to Jack."

A glimmer of hope bubbles up in me as I hastily assure, "They won't be mad at him—I promise."

She gives me a small tight-lipped smile with a slow nod of her head.

But I know they won't blame Jack—my parents aren't Karens. They'll understand.

..................

My black loafers kick at the shiny floor outside of the school office. My dad has been in there chattering away with Principal Wells for twenty minutes.

The high has started to wear off—I think that deadening glare from Jack sobered me straight up. I scratch at my itchy scalp, cursing myself for creating such discomfort.

Finally, the door creaks open—my dad stepping out to meet me. He throws an arm around my still damp shoulders.

"Well kid," he says as we begin to exit the building. "You have detention after school the rest of the week."

Frustrated, I stare at him with an open mouth. "I did what I could," he offers with a shrug.

Once outside, we pile into his old beater—he insists on keeping this old minivan, even though we have enough money to get a new one.

Snapping on my seatbelt I turn to my dad next to me. "What about Jack?"

Switching on the ignition, the motor rattles to life as he peels off the side street. "I told her I understand Jack is going through a difficult time—no need for us to add on to his troubles."

My brows lower, realizing my dad was still under the assumption Jack was transgender—forced into an all-girls school amidst his transition.

God, I love my woke parents.

"What did Principal Wells say to that?" I inquire, wondering what she thought of my dad's assessment.

Hands firmly grasping the wheel, he shrugs. "She seemed surprised I knew. But, was happy I understood the stress he was under."

"She said that?" I ask wrinkling my nose.

My father nods. But Jack's fine—what would she think he's stressed about?

Confused, I lean back into the old musty van seat kicking at a carton of old fries resting in the floorboard.

"I can't believe my little Freckles smoked her first joint today!" he beams.

I groan. "Dad, you aren't supposed to be proud."

He flashes a smile at me. "What? This is a monumental moment in every teenager's life. And I got to be a part of it! Of course I'm proud," he says reaching over to poke me in the side.

Trying to remain stoic, he breaks me, and I giggle swatting him away. I'm so lucky to have him—I can only hope my mother feels the same way.

...............

Seated at our kitchen table, I pick at the skin around my nails as my mother stares back at me with soft, blue eyes.

"Molly, honey," she soothes, placing a hand onto my arm.

Uh-oh, it's her therapist voice.

"You know you can tell me if anything is troubling you, right?" she says, the same words she's told me since I've been able to comprehend them.

"I'm fine, mom. Promise," I tell her.

That doesn't seem to satisfy her as she frowns at me. "We're worried honey," she says glancing to my father standing behind us seated at the table. With his hands in his olive flowy pants, he shrugs at me, brows raised.

Fighting down a smile at his gesture, I turn back to my mother who continues on. "You've been so distant lately. And last night you dyed your hair—and now, you're doing drugs."

"I'm not doing drugs mom," I interject in a huff. "I did a drug. One drug. One time."

"Okay," she says with a soft smile. Placing a hand to my cheek she tells me, "I just want you to know that you can talk to me. We're not angry—we just want to understand."

Looking past her head, I take one last look at my dad, relieved it seems I'm skating out of this predicament unphased. Staring back at my mom, I give her a quick nod before jumping up off the kitchen chair.

"Thanks mom," I sing wrapping my arms around her for a quick hug. "I'm all good, though—promise."

And then, I bounce off out of the room, darting up my stairs two at a time feeling more grateful than ever for two wonderful, understanding parents.

I can't wait for school tomorrow to tell Jack. He'll be so relieved to hear they don't want him in any trouble—that he can stay at Wilcrest after all.