The Art of Abandonment

Chapter 1

A/N: This book contains adult situation and mild language. I've rated it PG-13.

I came home without a word. My mother, Ramona Kalm wasn't in a good mood. Best not to approach.

Goddamn you you got me pregnant she's 15 now you're a billionaire just send me fucking money. Ramona sent for the fifth time.

Meanwhile.

"I don't care please figure it out!" yelled Mark Hanson to his drummer, Kit Marlo. Kit walked off with a gruff groan.

"Goddamn it Kinney he's so frustrating!" He said to the guitarist, walking back to the dressing room.

Kinney spoke up, "Hey he left his phone here. It's got new fan messages on it." He smirked.

"Oh god yes," said Kit. "Let's see," Kit immediately took the phone.

Romana Kalm
Goddamn you you got me pregnant she's 15 now you're a billionaire just send me fucking money.

"Oh," Kit recoiled, smirking. "Looks like homeboy's done some shit!"

"Eh getting people pregnant," Kinney said leaning against the makeup counter. "That's not new for us rockstars."

"Or someone just wants money," Kit remarked. It wasn't uncommon for people to go asking the vocalist for money.

Mark Hanson wasn't actually that rude, sometimes he just had bad days. The next morning on the tour bus, he went to Kit. "Hey man you wanna talk real quick?" He assured first.

Kit nodded, so Mark sat down beside him. "Man I'm real sorry for how rude I was last night I was stressed we all are and it ain't an excuse to treat you like that."

"It's all good man." He smiled shortly. "Oh, by the way, did you ever remember one of your one night stand's names? Romana Kalm?"

Mark tried to think hard. The name rang a quiet, very quiet bell. "I think somewhere?" He shrugged. "I don't know how many one-night stands I've had." He shrugged again.

"She texted you saying she has a kid now. 15 years old." replied Kit. Mark thought again. "Ehh... back in 2009? It doesn't ring a bell that far back... it's probably just another old soap trying to get money."

"Yeah, probably." said Kit, getting up to make a sandwich. He spoke again, "Alright Mark, you've got a fund today to do, and a school speech."

"What could kids possibly want to hear from an old worn out sack like me? What grade am I even talking to?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh please, Mark. You're talking to all music classes, high school." The blond said while placing a piece of bread carefully.

"Oh yeah cause high school kids really wanna hear me talk." Mark snarked. "What school am I going for?" He learned against the storage cabinet.

"Westwood High," muttered Kit now taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Damn it," he rolled his eyes.

***

I woke up and groaned. Then remembered today was the day a performer was giving a speech to our classes. Or as the teachers called him, a 'speaker'. I quickly got ready. "Morning mom!" I smiled at her trying to be happy for her.

She was approachable and smiled, "Morning Rose," she said using her nickname. Secretly, she was running out of money... she was now down to a mere $1000... which I didn't know.

I left for school and caught up to my friend in the hall. Fake but my only friend. "Hey Kenna!" I said, walking up to her but she acted like she didn't hear me and kept talking to her friends...

The smile just dropped from my face as I kept walking to class. There we go again, people giggling at my hair which was gotten from my dad's side, still didn't know who that damn— person... was.

Why'd my dad have to have goddamn frizz... so there I was, just miserable. That's until my favorite teacher caught up to me though I'm sure her love was just pity.

Without a word she handed me a cafeteria breakfast, stopping me. I looked at her with a look in my eyes that said, What about your money? and she returned it with a look that said, Are you really going to worry about that?.

I rolled my eyes playfully, "Thank you..." I said quietly knowing breakfast was only a dollar and trying to convince myself she had probably $500 in her account... even though we both knew it was probably $30.

I coughed gently. I was still sick. I hated to be sick the day of hearing the speech, but oh well. What could I do? Suddenly Ms. Marka handed me a cold medicine.

She wasn't supposed to do that, but I trusted her. It wasn't like she was giving me 50 more points on my average or something.

She had a look in her eyes that sent a, I know what I'm doing, I know it's not allowed..

I took it quickly, looking away, thanking her. I kept yawning, as if she couldn't get any better, she handed me her coffee. That on the other hand wasn't completely incorrect. No school rule said teachers couldn't give the kids food or drinks.

I sighed and drank it without thanking her, she knew I was grateful. I was too tired to focus on a proper thank. She smiled.

When I was done with my caffeine dose, I handed it back to her. She kept drinking it after that and handed the rest back to me.

Walking with her, silent actions of affection, the students and hustling of the halls became nonexistent. It was just a world of me walking who knows where with my favorite teacher. I forgot she was a teacher. I even didn't hear her talking about who the speaker was, which was Mark Hanson.

It was a fever dream until I was dropped off at my first class. The day dragged on. Finally last period hit. My music class.

"Today we have very special speaker, Mark Hanson!" Ms. Marka announced. I froze. Hanson? My last name? Must be a coincidence. I brushed it off...until she gave me a look of... knowing?...

Mark came in with a grin. "Hello students I am Mr. Hanson, do call me Mark if you wish, please ignore my weird terminology I'm not advanced with teenagers..." he said sheepishly then his eyes scanned over me on accident and locked.

Oh no.