Page 13 of The F*ck-It List

Oliver dips his chin to try and hide his laugh, and I stare at Connor with all the parental disappointment I can muster. “That’s not the point, Con.”

He slumps back on the bench, legs spread wide, and arms folded over his chest as he glares at the ground at my feel. He’s all limbs, tall and skinny after a growth spurt earlier in the year leaving him like Bambi on ice in this new body. “School sucks.”

“Connor,” I snap at him, and he looks up at me, some of his bravado slipping slightly. “You can’t just leave school in the middle of the day. Does your mum even know you’re here? She’s going to be heading out to pick you up soon. Did you think how worried she’ll be when you’re not there?”

To his credit, he does shrink in on himself a little and guilt melts some of the ice he was trying to give me. “I didn’t think about that,” he mumbles.

“No, you didn’t. Didn’t think about much really, did you?” My voice is angry as my temper flares. “What’s this about getting banned from the bus, anyway?”

He shrugs.

“You stuck gum in some poor girl’s hair?”

“Natalie Gross is not ‘some poor girl.’ She’s a fucking bitch and deserved a lot worse than a little bit of gum in her hair.” Connor’s attitude dials right back up to max as he matches my anger. Joanie swears more than your average sailor, so she’s never been too strict on Connor’s language, just telling him to watch what he says around certain people. I am not certain people, but it doesn’t mean I’ll allow him to say that about a girl.

“Hey,” I bark. “Watch your language.”

“Natalie has spent the last two weeks on the bus cyber bullying this year ten girl she says stole her boyfriend,” Connor says coming to a stand in an attempt to bring us eye to eye, but he’s still half a footshorter than me. “She’s a bitch because she’s been telling anactual‘poor girl’ to throw herself off a cliff.”

I plant my hands on my hips and look off to the side, blowing out a breath and trying to stay strong. This is so Connor. Doing shit things for noble reasons. “So, you spat gum at her?”

“No,” he scoffs. “I took my gum out of my mouth and pushed it into the back of her head with my thumb. I don’t spit, it’s rude.”

Do not let the kid make you laugh, August, it’s bad form. “Oliver, go home,” I say.

The other kid stands, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and blows his own mop of curls off his face. “See you later, Con,” he says, trudging away.

“Later,” Connor mumbles.

When we’re alone, I look at my nephew. I’m still disappointed, but I can’t help the swell of love I have for this boy. Fifteen years old with way too much attitude and nowhere near enough self-respect, he’s still mine. Connor doesn’t have a dad, Joanie doesn’t even remember the guy’s name, so I’ve tried to step up as much as I can. He’s a good kid. Just a bad decision maker.

“If you’re worried about another student’s behaviour, you’ve got to tell your teachers, Con,” I say pleadingly.

He laughs without humour. “Yeah, like they’re interested in anything I have to say.”

“Of course they are, especially if it’s about the wellbeing of another student. Come on, man, you’re better than this. If you keep doing shit like this, you’re going to get suspended or expelled and that’s hard to shake, Connor.”

He shrugs his shoulders again and I know there’s no point in beating him with it, he won’t take it on board. So, I put my arm around his shoulders and lead him back out onto the road. “Come on, dipshit, text your mum and tell her I’m picking you up from school. You can come and help me unblock Mr Coleson’s drain.”

“Seriously?” Connor whines.

“Yeah, and you don’t want to get your uniform dirty so you can wear the overalls I have in the truck.” I pick up his backpack, adorned with lots of heavy badges, mostly for video games or music albums, and thrust it at him to carry as I still have my toolbox.

“Those things stink!”

“It’s either that or your pants kid.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you too, dipshit.”

four

No. 17: Buy more books

Bea

Cas and I have been busy, my new kitchen in the little café has been fitted, it’s small so didn’t take too long, but I can make cakes and fresh food for when I open. The brand-new commercial sized espresso machine arrived, and Cas and I sat like good students as the guy showed us how to use it. Even though Cas won’t be staying, they’ve said they’re going to visit as much as they can and want to be able to help me in the café when they’re here. I, of course, got teary eyed and trapped them in a too tight hug for thirty whole seconds before they griped at me to let them go.