Problem Children

Chapter Twenty One

"What on earth were you thinking?" The door slammed shut behind the thunderous footsteps, strong enough to press indentations in the wood. The young girl knew exactly what her actions would lead to, but she lacked the weakness to care. "You weren't," her mother said, catching up to her retreating daughter. "You never do."

"I'm going upstairs."

"Get back here," her mother interjected. "Now, tell me exactly what possessed you to do this." Her arms crossed in silent thought. "Or who, if my suspicions are correct."

Hannah's face turned red. "It's not his fault, Mom, neither one of them had anything to do with this!" As hurt as she was by Angus' false confession, she'd never blame him for her actions. Though the idea was tempting sometimes.

"Like I'm supposed to believe this was your idea?" he mother scoffed. "You have a whole future ahead of you, you wouldn't risk it all by behaving like some sort of-devil, or-problem child!" Hannah removed her school bag and tossed it on the closest armchair, and watched it collapse to the floor.

"My future?" Hannah asked pointing at herself, slowly turning her finger around. "Or yours?" Her opponent opened her mouth ready to talk, but she was stopped short. "I didn't ask for any of this. School, Uni, none of these have anything to do with what I want to do!"

"What do you want to do?" The two stared at each other in silent combat, each hoping to intimidate the other one. "Be a black sheep living in the slums? Or were you hoping to live off me when you're thirty? Or-"

"Shut up!" Hannah yelled, hands clenched in fists. "I've told you a million times, you never listen to me! Being an artist doesn't mean living on the streets scrimping for every last penny. Being an artist isn't an excuse for living off your parents because you're in a slump. Being an artist means expressing yourself in any way you want, not because you can't do what's considered intelligent to the world. But because that's what you're passionate about! Maybe you like to draw, and even if you're not good at it, it's what you love! Who cares if you can't graph a triangle? Who wants to anyway?" Hannah took a breath before continuing, her mother glowering harshly. "School is great for those who want to pursue topics that need it, like a doctor. You're holding people's lives in your hands, of course you need medical training! Or a teacher, you know, most people need a high level of education to get that job. But me..." An exhale and two bleary eyes later, she spoke. "...Mom, that's not for me. School has done nothing for me since it taught me how to read and write, and that's the truth. I can't sit there wasting my time, fulfilling milestones that you set for me. I have ambitions. And you're getting in the way."

Hannah turned on her heel to resume her journey to her bedroom upstairs when she was forcefully pulled back down. Her arm was completely entrapped within her mother's fingers. "I'm getting in the way?" she seethed. "You're getting in the way of yourself, with the way you've been carryin' on!"

"Let go!" The grip only tightened.

"Spending all your time with those heathen boys down the road has made a mess of you. Your grades are slipping, you're acting up, you're showing disrespect to your elders," she added at Hannah's desperate tries to escape. Her arm was beginning to hurt. "This is not how I raised you, and not at all how God wants you to behave."

Hannah ceased to struggle. She straightened her back and looked her mother dead in the eyes. "Leave God out of this. It's not His fault I acted the way I do, and those "heathen" boys had nothing to do with it either. Not even Angus," she said as she rolled her eyes. "Besides." Her voice dropped to a mutter. "It's not His fault you've been acting out either." With a rough shove Hannah was released, catching her balance on the banister.

"I have done nothing but help you."

"Oh, grabbing me and pushing me is helping me?"

"I was the one who encouraged you not to give up your studies. I was the one who taught you manners and how to be courteous to those around you. I was the one who moved you to a better location so you could get the most out of your life! What thanks have I ever gotten?" Not a sound was uttered more from the enraged woman. Hannah wiped a hand over her eye before her cheek could get wet.