Raising Isaiah (No future updates)

Chapter 18

Hey beautiful people.

I'm back.

And here's an update for ya.

It's really late over here...like 12AM. So sorry in advance for the grammatical errors.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

What would you do if you were Zeke? What if you were Symone? Or even Jeremy or Amber? Let me know in the comment section below.

"This is unacceptable." My mother said for what felt like the one hundredth time.

Principal Meyers nodded her head. "Once again Mrs. Morgan this school had no previous notification of the student's choice to post that blog."

Cross legged with a permanent scowl attached to her lips, my mother tapped a chipped, manicured finger to her temple. "I don't care whether you all knew about it. I want it taken down immediately and I want the girl who posted it expelled."

Principal Meyers sighed. "Mrs. Morgan, I understand your frustration but we cannot expel a student because of an outside blog that has nothing to do with this school."

My mother sat up in her seat. "Are you kidding me? There are hundreds of gossiping posts about my son and other students that attend this school and none of them are positive. That girl updates that blog frequently and now she's slandered my son's name! I say that's grounds for expulsion."

Principal Meyers shook her head. "She didn't threaten anyone's life-"

"She's tarnished my son's reputation." My mother bit out.

"With all due respect Mrs. Morgan, this was all going to come to the light anyway. It is to my understanding that Miss. Redd is keeping the child. Pretty soon everyone is going to be talking." Principal Meyers reasoned.

My mother scoffed. "So that gives this Cummings girl the right to expose information she shouldn't be privy too?"

"If you're this upset, I think the real question should be: who told Miss. Cummings?" Principal Meyers suggested.

It's not rocket science. Only two people knew aside from myself and Symone. Two people who I'm sure hated my guts right now. Jeremy and Amber. I swallowed deeply my jaw tight with tension.

The last couple of days had been hell.

When I wasn't being gawked at and whispered about in the halls of Hamilton I was at home listening to my mother moan and complain about being gawked at and whispered about at work. She was beyond distressed and it showed. Other people might not have noticed it but my mother was walking around with chipped feet and fingernails, something she never did. Now that everybody knew that Symone was pregnant and I was the father she couldn't bring herself to even make a nail appointment for fear that she'd run into associates who knew about the so-called scandal.

My mother tapped my shoulder. "Who told the Cummings girl?"

I shook my head and let the lie seep out between my lips. "I don't know."

My mother fixed me with a stare. "I hope you're not covering for someone because they didn't give a rat's ass about you when they spoke to this girl and encouraged her to write the blog about you. Covering for this person would be a very stupid-"

I threw my hands up. "I don't know who told her mom!"

My mother sat back in her seat. "Watch your tone."

Just then the door opened and in walked Symone's mother, hair pulled into a sleek ponytail that fell past her shoulders when she moved. I aimlessly noted that I had never saw Symone's mother without her work clothes on and today was no different. Her natural nails fiddled with her crème blazer which she paired with brown slacks and pointy heels. She looked so much like Symone, especially in the eyes. Behind her trailed Symone whose head hung low. She wouldn't meet my gaze as she stared stubbornly at the ground. She had traded in her worn school sweater for looser clothes. Even though they were a bit bigger, they still suited her shape. Today she wore a grey sweater dress that flared out at the bottom. Its hem stopped a few inches above the knee allowing any capable eye to see the knee high boots she wore. A wine red cardigan hung from her shoulders. My eyes flickered to her belly which was barely noticeable thanks to the airy sweater dress. I hadn't spoken to her since we fell out at the doctor's office. She sat down in the chair on the farthest side of the office.