butter pecan and caramel
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: After School
Rating: G
Challenge: Butter Pecan #11: sour
Toppings/Extras: caramel
Wordcount: 650
Summary: An unwilling apology in the schoolyard.
Notes: It’s been so long since I’ve given Adele a proper description! I sort of assume everyone knows what she looks like by now, haha. She’ll never change, though I’ll note she’s in her work uniform here… I’m sure she doesn’t wear her business suits all of the time. Judy’s about eight or nine here.
Brittany Rogers was standing along with all of the other parents outside of Ferncroft Junior School at three in the afternoon, waiting patiently for her child to arrive-which she soon did. Young Claire Rogers looked sullen as she trudged out and Brittany realised quickly that she was not wearing the same uniform she had been sent to school in; the trousers were ill-fitting and appeared to be standard boy’s uniform.
“What happened?” Brittany asked as her daughter tramped up to her. Mutinously, the young girl muttered something she couldn’t quite hear.
The mother was distracted from the conversation by a presence approaching her across the large indoor area designated for picking up and dropping off. Kids were streaming in and out of gates and across the walkways, the ones that lived closer walking home alone; the various parents waited in their own spots. Among the T-shirt wearing, denim-clad mothers, one stood out quite starkly and was making a beeline for them.
The woman was thin, neat and brown-haired. Said hair was drawn tightly out of her face and tumbling down the back of her neck in a sleek, thin ponytail. A high-riding black skirt cinched her waist dramatically and a matching jacket followed the same shape. A glittery, thin black scarf had been tossed about her neck and her shining high heels made a precise clopping noise with every step. Her lips were painted dark.
She looked scary in a corporate sort of way. Brittany wondered if she was about to be arrested when she noticed that the frightening lady had a young girl wearing the Ferncroft school uniform in tow.
“Brittany Rogers?” she asked, clipped and efficient. Brittany managed a nod. The woman smiled faintly. “And this must be Claire.”
Young Claire didn’t respond apart from to continue staring in terror.
“I’m Judy’s mother,” the woman continued, utterly businesslike, “and I believe that she has something to say to your daughter.” Her gaze flicked down towards her daughter without losing the lofty raising of her chin. Judy Prowse looked a lot like her mother, actually, Brittany reflected-though Judy was purposefully slouching and looking as sullen as she possibly could.
“S’rry for pushing you into the puddle,” she muttered, glancing at her mother resentfully.
Claire looked at the girl in front of her, up to her mother, and then back towards her own mother. She nodded a little and scurried behind Brittany’s trackie-clad legs.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Judy’s mother asked. Her voice was not quite pleasant… but there was effort there. “I’m afraid my daughter needs to learn some manners.”
Not trusting herself to speak, Brittany shook her head.
“Wonderful,” the woman said, sounding pleased. She flashed them both a white, fang-filled smile and then swiftly spun around by the high heels of her shoes, the tails of her long scarf flapping. Still holding Judy Prowse by the hand, she began to stride away across the schoolyard. Before she was quite out of earshot, Brittany heard the woman lightly berating her daughter for wearing trainers to school.
“Judy’s horrible,” Claire muttered sulkily from behind her.
“Shush!” Brittany said quickly, the thought of Judy’s mother hearing such a comment terrifying her. She took a hold of her daughter by the shoulder and began steering her out of the schoolyard through the north exit, which was closer to their home. “Have you seen her parents before?” she hissed. “What does she do?” She would have to tap into the neighbourhood gossip network immediately.
“Dunno,” Claire replied, kicking an abandoned toy duck as they walked. “Prob’ly kill people. Usually her dad comes to pick her up.”
Brittany’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, what’s he like?” She was almost scared to ask.
Claire, who by now was used to being a source of maternal chitchat, replied, “Oh, he’s not scary like she is. Judy beats him up.”
Title: After School
Rating: G
Challenge: Butter Pecan #11: sour
Toppings/Extras: caramel
Wordcount: 650
Summary: An unwilling apology in the schoolyard.
Notes: It’s been so long since I’ve given Adele a proper description! I sort of assume everyone knows what she looks like by now, haha. She’ll never change, though I’ll note she’s in her work uniform here… I’m sure she doesn’t wear her business suits all of the time. Judy’s about eight or nine here.
Brittany Rogers was standing along with all of the other parents outside of Ferncroft Junior School at three in the afternoon, waiting patiently for her child to arrive-which she soon did. Young Claire Rogers looked sullen as she trudged out and Brittany realised quickly that she was not wearing the same uniform she had been sent to school in; the trousers were ill-fitting and appeared to be standard boy’s uniform.
“What happened?” Brittany asked as her daughter tramped up to her. Mutinously, the young girl muttered something she couldn’t quite hear.
The mother was distracted from the conversation by a presence approaching her across the large indoor area designated for picking up and dropping off. Kids were streaming in and out of gates and across the walkways, the ones that lived closer walking home alone; the various parents waited in their own spots. Among the T-shirt wearing, denim-clad mothers, one stood out quite starkly and was making a beeline for them.
The woman was thin, neat and brown-haired. Said hair was drawn tightly out of her face and tumbling down the back of her neck in a sleek, thin ponytail. A high-riding black skirt cinched her waist dramatically and a matching jacket followed the same shape. A glittery, thin black scarf had been tossed about her neck and her shining high heels made a precise clopping noise with every step. Her lips were painted dark.
She looked scary in a corporate sort of way. Brittany wondered if she was about to be arrested when she noticed that the frightening lady had a young girl wearing the Ferncroft school uniform in tow.
“Brittany Rogers?” she asked, clipped and efficient. Brittany managed a nod. The woman smiled faintly. “And this must be Claire.”
Young Claire didn’t respond apart from to continue staring in terror.
“I’m Judy’s mother,” the woman continued, utterly businesslike, “and I believe that she has something to say to your daughter.” Her gaze flicked down towards her daughter without losing the lofty raising of her chin. Judy Prowse looked a lot like her mother, actually, Brittany reflected-though Judy was purposefully slouching and looking as sullen as she possibly could.
“S’rry for pushing you into the puddle,” she muttered, glancing at her mother resentfully.
Claire looked at the girl in front of her, up to her mother, and then back towards her own mother. She nodded a little and scurried behind Brittany’s trackie-clad legs.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Judy’s mother asked. Her voice was not quite pleasant… but there was effort there. “I’m afraid my daughter needs to learn some manners.”
Not trusting herself to speak, Brittany shook her head.
“Wonderful,” the woman said, sounding pleased. She flashed them both a white, fang-filled smile and then swiftly spun around by the high heels of her shoes, the tails of her long scarf flapping. Still holding Judy Prowse by the hand, she began to stride away across the schoolyard. Before she was quite out of earshot, Brittany heard the woman lightly berating her daughter for wearing trainers to school.
“Judy’s horrible,” Claire muttered sulkily from behind her.
“Shush!” Brittany said quickly, the thought of Judy’s mother hearing such a comment terrifying her. She took a hold of her daughter by the shoulder and began steering her out of the schoolyard through the north exit, which was closer to their home. “Have you seen her parents before?” she hissed. “What does she do?” She would have to tap into the neighbourhood gossip network immediately.
“Dunno,” Claire replied, kicking an abandoned toy duck as they walked. “Prob’ly kill people. Usually her dad comes to pick her up.”
Brittany’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, what’s he like?” She was almost scared to ask.
Claire, who by now was used to being a source of maternal chitchat, replied, “Oh, he’s not scary like she is. Judy beats him up.”