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Playdates and Permission Slips

09. Yard Duty

Author: OriginalCeenote

Summary: Logan and Ororo each get back to business the first week of school.

Author's Note: I vaguely remember one of my friends talking about sending her girls to private school, and all of the stuff parents had to do.

“Don’t forget to send her with lunch money.”

“I already paid it ahead of time, Sil. They make the kids keep a pre-paid tab fer school lunches, so don’t bother nagging me about it.”

“I’m coming to the Orientation, too. I want to meet Laura’s teachers so they recognize me on days where I have her.”

“Sure,” he muttered. “Do whatcha want. I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

“No shit. See you there.” She hung up with no further pleasantries. He scowled at the phone before slamming it onto its cradle.

“Was that Mommy?”

“Sure was, Punkin’,” he informed her, letting his face assume more agreeable lines when he saw his daughter dressed in the crisp white blouse and dark pleated skirt with buttoned suspenders. She already had on her knee-high socks and was just tugging on her loafers at the kitchen table. Logan sent up a fervent prayer that she wouldn’t outgrow the darn things before Christmas. He’d always joked to Silver that she had feet like Sasquatch, which didn’t earn him any brownie points. Logan didn’t have anything against big feet. Particularly if they were long, slender feet with elegant, pedicured little toes winking up at him from a pair of peek-a-boo pumps.

He wondered what Lucas’ mom would wear to the meeting, and if he’d manage to talk to her. She hadn’t called since their impromptu movie night, leaving his cell phone free for Jean, Raven and Emma to pepper him with voice mail.

He heard his daughter gulping down the last of her cocoa, bringing him out of his reverie. He still hadn’t succeeded in nipping that habit of hers in the bud.

“Don’t spill anything on yerself, Punkin’!”

“I won’t,” she assured him indignantly, even as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Logan sighed and handed her a paper towel off the roll over the sink.

“Lookin’ forward to yer first day?”

“I guess. Can’t wait to hang out with Rachel.”

“Ya hung out with her fer most of the summer!”

“That’s different. Now we can play soccer and do school stuff together.”

“School stuff, huh?”

“Recess. Lunch. Gym. Just stuff.” She looked too sheepish, and her voice trailed off on the last two words.

“That ‘stuff’ better not include makin’ eyes at boys!”

“DADDY!” Her face flushed, and he tried not to laugh, but he managed his best stern look.

“Don’t go makin’ goo-goo eyes at any of ‘em! All of ‘em have cooties, and ya don’t want cooties!”

“You’re a boy, and YOU don’t have cooties,” she accused as she shrugged into her blazer. He followed her back to the sink where she began to brush her hair in the mirror until he reached for the comb. She put down the brush and allowed her father to part it and detangle the shining brown waves, spritzing on some leave-in conditioner that smelled fruity and that Silver had sent over in Laura’s backpack one day after complaining that he’d sent her home after a camping trip with hair that “looked like rats were nesting in it.” Laura stood patiently as he pulled the top section of hair back and brushed it until it was smooth, clipping it back from her face with her favorite tortoiseshell barrette.

“Not too shabby.” Her mother’s smile twinkled up at him, and mischief shone from those eyes that were so much like his. He almost choked with pride but settled for clapping her shoulder fondly and kissing her forehead. “Let’s motor. We’re gonna be late.”

When they got to the school, the parking lot was a maze of cars with doors slamming open and shut and jammed up in traffic. It was worse than waiting for tickets to Episode Three outside the theater, he griped to himself as he finagled a spot in the back, beating a harried looking mother in a Benz to the punch. He knew it’d hurt him in the pocket to use up his paid leave to take the day off unpaid, but he’d promised Laura a holiday trip for Thanksgiving, since he had her this year, and he wanted to save his days.

At least it was a sunny day, free from the humidity that characterized the past month and a half; Logan hated feeling muggy, preferring the cooler months, turning leaves and crisp air. Dimly he remembered Sil saying she loved baking at that time of year. Her homemade bread disappeared fast whenever he and Laura got a whiff of it, drizzled in butter and honey. It wasn’t enough to stop the petty squabbles that plagued them whenever they were behind closed doors, Laura tucked snugly into her bed.

He didn’t know whether to feel happy or frustrated when he heard Rachel Summers’ girlish squeal a few yards away. “Ohmigosh, LAURA! You’re HERE! YAYYYYY!” She flung herself at Laura in a flurry of excitement, jumping up and down until Laura joined her. Logan grinned at Nate, who was rolling his eyes at the spectacle, and he could easily relate. Jean and Scott were hanging back, unloading the kids’ backpacks from the trunk of Jean’s little Lexus SUV. The couple almost matched each other; Scott’s charcoal grey suit screamed “chairman” and was set off by a brilliant white dress shirt, black silk tie and Italian loafers with a high shine. Jean had chosen a sweater set in dove gray with a black silk skirt with a flared hem that showed her legs to their greatest advantage.

Her expression was pleased as they approached; Scott looked like someone force-fed him rotten cheese.

“Are you going to the potluck tonight?” Rachel inquired. Laura shrugged, then looked up at her father.

“Can we?”

“If ya feel like it, kiddo.”

“We were planning on it,” Jean announced. I’ve already got a casserole recipe I was wanting to try out. Maybe we’ll see you two there.”

“We’ll see. Silver might wanna have dinner with ya, too, Laura, don’t forget. She said she’s gonna be here later this morning ta meet yer teachers.”

“COOL! Mom’s coming, Rachel, see? I told you,” she crowed, eyes shining as she tugged her best friend along toward the brick steps. Rachel’s long braid flew out behind her in a flash of coppery red, and Logan sighed over their giggling antics as Nate loped behind them at a slower pace.

“We’ll hear more of that once the day’s over. Doubt I’ll get Ray off the phone.” Scott leaned over and kissed Jean’s cheek, but kept his eyes on Logan before he promised “I’m heading over to the principal’s office to pay Rachel’s lunch money while I have the chance.” Part of him hoped he’d run into Nate and Rachel’s music teacher. Just a flicker of hope, but hope just the same. The thought of it quickened his steps, for a reason he couldn’t name. The niggling feeling that he shouldn’t leave his wife behind in the lot was pushed to the back of his mind.

Jean shut the trunk of her car and locked it up with her keychain; Logan always liked that car but couldn’t see himself paying what he knew had to be a monstrous car payment and insurance premium on something that stealable. She followed him as he also began his trek toward the courtyard, and he schooled his expression into calm lines while she caught up to him, walking briskly on her kitten-heeled pumps.

“I left you a few voice mails.”

“I haven’t checked them yet.”

“They were from yesterday.”

“I must’ve had my phone turned off.”

“Missed you.”

“Guess I was busy. We’re all gonna be busy fer a while, getting the kids settled in. I ain’t gonna have any days off any time soon.”

“How about your afternoons?” Her voice was knowing, and the smile she threw his way was wicked. He clenched his fists inside the pockets of his denim jacket.

“Jeannie…don’t. Let’s not do this.”

“What’s going on? Are you all of the sudden not taking lunch breaks?”

“I’m takin’ ‘em. I just ain’t spendin’ ‘em the same way I used to.” She paused and reached for him, attempting to halt his progress inside. He faced her and didn’t like the look on her face, not unlike the one Scott had given him as they drove up.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Logan?”

“Yer an educated woman, Jeannie. I don’t think I hafta explain it to ya. We’ve had fun. Lots of fun, don’t get me wrong. It’s just…I think it’s time we got back to bein’ a couple of parents whose kids go to the same school. No more, no less.”

“I’m not any different than I was the last time we-“

“Don’t say it. Bad enough there are people around seein’ two people who aren’t married to each other lookin’ like they’re havin’ an argument,” Logan snapped under his breath. “Especially when yer the one who IS married. And yer right, Jean. Ya haven’t changed since the last time, and that’s fine. It ain’t that I feel differently about you, so much as I feel differently about what we’ve been doin’.” He sighed. “I think it’s affecting the kids.”

“They don’t know anything about what we…are you kidding?” she scoffed.

“Nope. I ain’t. Give ‘em credit, Jeannie. Kids know more than they let on. Little rabbits have big ears, and all that other shit.” He turned his back on her again and continued inside, bounding up the steps in his Ropers before she could catch up to him in her pumps. He felt her glaring holes into his back.

Logan made it to the auditorium and scanned the bulletin printed on green paper hanging on a corkboard by the door. The Orientation Session was due to start in twenty minutes. He saw a sea of navy blazers swirling around the stage as the kids took their seats up front. He wanted a seat in the middle so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck all morning, but they were filling up fast. He filed inside with the rest of the crowd, narrowly avoiding Jean catching up to him again. That damned red hair made her too conspicuous; anyone who saw them talking together would remember her too easily. It didn’t help that Scott traveled in important circles of well-known businessmen. Logan found it ironic that he wanted to protect Jean’s image of the trophy wife by keeping her reputation untarnished, but she defeated his efforts at every turn…

He’d just have to try harder. And perhaps that wouldn’t be as hard as he thought.

He followed the ramp slowly, searching for empty seats in the middle when a flash of silvery hair caught his eye. He heard the sound of Nate’s voice whooping with delight as Lucas Munroe stood up and gave him a high-five, leaning around his mother as he did so. She tugged on his blazer to get his attention, and stood from her chair to wave them toward the student seating, handing him his backpack. The seat beside her was now empty.

Logan nudged and buffeted his way toward her, not giving a damn if his “excuse me, pardon me’s” sounded hollow and insincere.

“Ororo?” She turned in her seat to face him, and her eyes lit up as she waved him forward and patted the chair next to her.

“You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“This takes me back,” she explained, shaking her head toward the kids. “I had to wear a uniform back when I was a kid, going to private school. I hated it. Itchiest, most uncomfortable clothes in the world. I felt like I was wearing a straight jacket!” He unbuttoned his broken-in denim jacket and unthreaded his arms from the sleeves, using it as a cushion against his back on the hard wooden seat.

“Ya went ta private school?”

“Yup.”

“Sleep-away?”

“Nope. Co-ed, though.”

“Hnh.”

“I was glad to get Luke in this year. I was on the waiting list for two years!”

“Wasn’t originally my idea to send Laura here. Her mom was adamant about it back before we split. We waited for three.”

“Wow. Guess you’ve topped me.”

“Doesn’t matter much. ‘Winning’ in this case means my daughter spent one more year in public school that’s just paid for by my taxes, not by my take-home pay.” Ororo grinned.

“Awwww. Poor baby.” Her blue eyes were full of mischief. She smelled good, like sandalwood oil and another sweet scent he’d mark up to perfume, subtle enough that he wanted to lean in close and get a better whiff. Her hair was pulled back from her face and fastened high at the crown with a suede hair clip strung with strands of tiger eye beads, much in the same way he’d styled Laura’s, but Ororo’s hair fell in thick, curling waves around her shoulders, framing sleek cheekbones and her graceful neck. Her outfit was more conservative, which would have disappointed him if she didn’t look so good in it. She’d chosen a camel brown wrap dress with three-quarter sleeves and a pair of taupe Jimmy Choo pumps, revealing those long, tapered legs that made him think sinful thoughts.

“So where didja go to school? Here in New York?”

“Not even on this continent. I grew up in Africa.”

“Wow.” That explained that appealing lilt in her accent, he decided. “What made ya come here?”

“I had nothing to stay for once I lost my parents, and when my marriage didn’t work out.” Her gentle smile faltered and her eyes took on a faraway look.

“What happened?” He wanted to reach out and stroke her but he held himself firmly in check.

“We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The hotel where we were staying was attacked, and my father was hit by a falling beam. My mother died trying to pull him free.” Logan swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry, ‘Ro. Guess I shouldn’t have asked.”

“How would you have known not to?” she pointed out. “The hardest part was not having my parents in my life when Lucas was born. Babies don’t come with instruction manuals.”

“Nope. Not the last time I checked. Too bad he didn’t meet his grandparents.”

“Not the ones on my side.” Her voice hardened slightly, and Logan wondered what he said wrong this time.

“In-law troubles?”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Ahhh. Got it. Say no more.”

“You don’t want me to!” She moved to lean her arm against the armrest until she accidentally bumped his. An awkward flush bathed her cheeks at the warm contact, and she felt tingle run up the affected limb, making her pulse jump. Down, girl. Logan smiled and cleared his throat.

“Be my guest,” he offered.

“We can take turns,” she countered. The unspoken urge to simply share the rest by holding his hand nagged her, but she behaved and settled back as the principal tested the volume on the microphone and introduced himself.

“Good morning. I’m Henry McCoy, your principal for this new school year. Are you ready to be a school superstar?” he bellowed. An answering chorus of cheers from the front five rows was accompanied by foot-stomping, and the jolly-looking man grinned behind his spectacles and pretended to be blown back by their enthusiasm. The parents chuckled behind their hands, loosening up the tension.

“Every year I say this is going to be the best year ever, and every year you all prove me right! I’d like to welcome you to this fine school and give you an overview of what to expect these first two weeks. Music signups and registration for fall intramural sports should have been sent out to you in the mail, but if you have not completed the paperwork, stop by my office and pick it up at the reception desk. My assistant, Mrs. Reyes, will be happy to answer your questions.” A pleasant-looking woman with a chestnut brown complexion and dark dreadlocks waved to the audience and smiled from the other side of the podium. “School tours will begin as soon as you leave this auditorium; signs and arrows in the halls will lead you where you need to go, and there’s a map key of the school located in the main hall. Report to your child’s homeroom by 9:30AM. Going forward, school is in session starting at 8:15. Absences must be called in to avoid truancy reported on the student’s records.” He smiled again and declared “Let’s get this school year off to a great start, what do you say?” There was another round of cheers as the other members of the faculty began to introduce themselves, and then Mrs. Reyes read off the other pertinent items on the agenda, namely where to collect the school information packets that needed to be filled out by week’s end. Logan’s brain was already swimming with visions of his signature on sheet after sheet of forms.

“More paperwork,” Ororo griped under breath, echoing his thoughts.

“We ain’t busy enough, what with making a living and all.”

“Soccer practice.”

“Music lessons,” he one-upped her.

“Carpool.”

“Teacher conferences,” he muttered, just getting warmed up.

“Parent community service,” she offered. She squelched a groan at the prospect of grading papers.

“Yard duty!” he shot back, and she looked like he got her, shaking her finger knowingly at him.

“Okay. You got me.” The children began to file out through the side exit by the stage, and Logan and Ororo rose from their seats. He allowed her to edge past him, taking that moment to enjoy her scent again.

He nearly bumped up against her back when she stopped short in the aisle.

“Ooph…er, aren’t ya headin’ outta here, darlin’?” She nodded mutely, but her gaze was riveted on the entrance to the auditorium, and he felt her tension without even touching her. A tall, strikingly dark man with chiseled features was making his way down, his eyes searching through the crowd. His clothing lacked no more luxury than most of the white-collar parents present; if anything, he made them look dowdy by comparison, except for ‘Ro.

His dark gaze zeroed in on Ororo and he wove his way easily through the crowd. Ororo exhaled gustily through her nose and stiffened up like a poker.

“Where is my son?” he asked without preamble before sweeping his eyes over Logan with a hint of amusement and disdain.

“Headed to his class with the rest of the students. You’re late.”

“I had to take care of some details. You didn’t return my voice mail.”

“I had to take care of some details. Namely planning out my son’s first day of school.” Logan could have sworn he saw flames licking up in those eyes.

“My son was deprived of a proper ride to school after I sent a driver, and you weren’t there to greet him.”

“He’ll live. It’s been some time since you’ve even called him.”

“Yesterday was quite recent,” he corrected her imperiously before directing his attention to Logan. “And you are?”

“Friend of ‘Ro’s. My daughter goes here. Name’s Logan,” he offered, but something kept him from extending his hand. He was glad he didn’t.

“Then you’ll excuse me while I speak with my wife?” His voice was silky and confident. Logan felt like he’d been socked in the gut.

“Knock yerself out,” Logan quipped, but Ororo detected something wounded in his voice, and when she turned to face him, disappointment and annoyance darkened his features. She longed to reach out and smooth it away, but he was already making haste toward the exit.

“What a horrid little nickname from that roughneck of a man.” He chuckled at her glare and cranked the wattage of his smile a notch. He reached for her arm and beckoned for her to follow him. She snatched it away and gave him a look that promised a slow, painful death.

“It shouldn’t matter to you what he calls me. You have no right calling me your wife, or have you forgotten, T’Challa?”

“You knew your duties when you joined yourself to me in marriage. Whether you assume the mantle of Queen again is irrelevant; my son is still next in line to my throne. You will help raise him as such.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped. Before she could read him the riot act, she heard another voice that sent her hackles up.

“T’Challa? T’Challa, where is my grandson? I expect to lay eyes on him before I have to… well, look who decided to show herself! Where have you been, young lady?”

“Living my life. Good morning, Ramonda.” Her tone was clipped and curt. Her mother-in-law drew herself up as tall and proudly as her petite stature would allow. She may look delicate, Ororo thought, but she was still hell on wheels. She was still a handsome woman, too, she decided. Her son had her exotic, slanted black eyes and high cheekbones, which he’d then passed on to Lucas, and Ororo was grateful. Her other qualities she could keep to herself…

“Your darling mother is turning over in her grave.”

“She’s at rest now, which I will thank you to remember. And my father would have enjoyed seeing his grandson have this opportunity.”

“We’re here for the Orientation,” T’Challa intervened, noticing the evil looks his ex and his mother were leveling at each other and fearing that the hair was gonna fly at any minute.

“Be at Lucas’ homeroom by 9:30. You’ll have an opportunity to meet his teacher. I’m going on the tour now.”

“I’d like to take Lucas to dinner,” T’Challa mentioned casually. “You may join us, if you like. Provided I’m not tearing you away from…other plans? Logan, was it?”

“My plans involve the school potluck tonight. Luke’s coming with me. Show up if you want. It’s a free country.” She folded her leather jacket neatly over her arm and skirted around them. Ramonda sighed as she watched her retreat.

“Her manners haven’t improved with age.”

“That doesn’t concern me much right now.” He tucked his mother’s hand in the crook of his arm and led her back up the aisle.


~0~

Logan couldn’t get out of the school fast enough. He’d downed a cup of mediocre coffee and choked down a flavorless donut in the cafeteria once he’d finished a perfunctory introduction to Laura’s homeroom teacher. She caught him long enough to remind him cheerfully to sign up for parent community service; her desk plaque identified her as Sally Blevins-Collins, and she was just too damned perky for the mood he was in.

He hit the signup boards, clutching Laura’s info packet against him like a life raft. He used the blue pen hanging by a string and thumb tacked to the bulletin board to scrawl his name on the sheet for yard duty, since it was a no-brainer and he could do it on his lunch. It beat his old lunch plans by a mile…

And speak of the red-haired devil…

“I wasn’t sure I’d find you,” Jean puffed. Scott was nowhere to be seen, which annoyed him, not that he wanted to see him.

“Where’s yer lovin’ hubby?” The words felt weird coming out of his mouth.

“He had to get back to work. He also had to drop off Nate’s trombone in the music room.”

“Makes two of us. I’ve gotta bail.”

“Logan…”

“Don’t let me keep ya.” He waved and took his leave. Jean grumbled under her breath.

“What the hell was that all about?” She turned to find Ororo approaching the signup sheets, looking equally frustrated, and she noticed that she also caught sight of Logan making his escape. Jean cocked an eyebrow at her oldest friend.

“Where’s Scott?” Ororo inquired.

“He’s in the music room.”

“That’s nice. Hopefully he’ll get the chance to tell Ali hello.”

“Ali?”

“Alison. Alison Blaire. You know, from high school? Perky? Blonde? Voted Most Talented and Most Friendly in the yearbook?” Jean sniffed; she’d gotten Most Attractive, which was nothing to sneeze at.

“Wait…ALI! Good grief, it’s been ages! How does she look?” First question that popped into Jean’s mind, Ororo chuckled to herself.

“You wouldn’t recognize her.” Instantly Jean pictured someone with premature middle-age spread, bad highlights and sensible shoes, carrying a fake Prada purse, and she brightened considerably.

“I’ll have to stop by and say hi!”

“Wouldn’t hurt. See you at the potluck.”

“Going so soon?”

“I’ve gotta bail,” Ororo remarked, having no clue she’d echoed Logan’s words. She found the signup form for field trip carpool and scribbled her name in the last column. She did the same for paper grading and the PTA bake sale. She could shill cupcakes with sprinkles with the best of them. Bake? No. Sell? Yes.

“Everyone’s deserting me today,” Jean pouted. Then she remembered, “What are you bringing to dinner?”

“Preferably something I don’t have to cook.”

“How you’ve managed so long not to boil so much as a pot of water when you have a child is beyond me,” Jean tsked. She treated the Pampered Chef catalog like it was gospel. Ororo grinned and offered her a brief hug goodbye.

“Tell Scott I said hello. See you tonight.”

“Soccer practice tomorrow,” Jean added, calling after her before she headed toward the music room.

She noticed that the children were milling around a tall rack of instrument cases and selecting them one at a time. Nate was already seated in the brass section, wiping down his trombone with a soft chamois cloth. He caught his mother’s eye and waved; she waved back, noticing that Scott was already gone. She checked her phone for missed calls; there were none.

“Hello, stranger,” chirped a familiar voice by her elbow. Jean whirled and gasped aloud, unable to stop the sound from escaping her lips.

“Oh. Oh, my…wait. ALI???”

“You look great!” announced the vision before, making her wonder who had spiked her morning coffee with hallucinogenics.

“Wow.”

“I know, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

“Er…wow.” She made limp motions toward her hair, and her eyes were glued to her tattoos.

“You have the sweetest kids! Rachel takes so much after you, and Nate reminds me so much of Scott freshman year…so what’s going on?”

“Orientation. Just…getting oriented. So, er, what made you…do this?” she gestured. An unbridled laugh shook Ali’s slender frame, not a spare ounce of flab visible beneath her long, black sheath dress, paired with black leather boots and a matching crocheted shrug sweater.

“I got bored one day. Needed a change. Out with the old, in with the new, huh?”

“Wow.”

“We kinda went over the whole ‘wow’ thing,” Ali pointed out. “But look at you! Married life’s been good to you! Ororo wasn’t kidding when she said you had it all.” This time Jean beamed. Her smile faltered a little when she said “Did Scott mention he ran into me yesterday?”

“Er, no. He didn’t mention it.” Ali shrugged.

“No biggie. Listen, I’ve got fifty students champing at the bit for me to get back behind the conductor’s stand, so I’ll let you go. Nice seeing you!” The faintly flared hem of her dress rippled behind her, adding to the illusion that she was made from liquid shadow. Jean waved a weak goodbye and wondered to herself if the whole world had gone insane. She checked her phone again. Still no voice mail from Logan, or from Scott. Darn it.


~0~


Sometimes a guy just had to hit something. The sledge hammer felt good in his hands as he banged out the dent in the fender of the Mustang convertible that was shaping up to be the highlight of their upcoming expo.

“Somebody’s havin’ issues,” his buddy Dave observed, taking a long pull off his Mountain Dew.

“Yard duty signups. Pushy parents. Pushy teachers. The usual. First day of school.” He didn’t provide any further details.

“Ugh,” he snorted. “Makes me glad I don’t have kids.”

“One more reason they call ya Maverick, eh?”

“One more reason they call me, period. No obstacles, no foul.” David North’s black book read like the city white pages. Logan would have envied him, but kissing Laura goodnight chased such thoughts out of his mind. Despite his mess of a marriage, he wouldn’t have traded being a father for the world.

Married. Ororo was married. Logan wanted to kick himself. He’d finally gotten on the right track, spending his time on a single parent, like him, who seemed to have her shit together, and the universe at large played a joke on him, sending him back to square one. Then you’ll excuse me while I speak with my wife? Well, excuse the heck outta me, Logan thought sourly.

He wasn’t in the mood to chase after another woman hiding the ring on her finger. Even if she had the eyes of an angel and lips that inspired him to sin.