Take charge, control some people. All it takes is a Life Plan. . .

"Ugh, stop with the vague broad strokes, get to the actual meat of what you want from me," I said, smacking the edge of the table with my palm.

Frank's grin just got more predatory. "That's what I'm talking about. Andrew, we want you to run class 3-F. Or rather, to get the students in it to be their best."

"F? There is no class F." I gritted my teeth. "Did nobody ever teach you how to lay out useful information? I'd have expected more from some think-tank with half a billion in the bank."

"Right, right, I get ahead of myself." Frank flicked the table and frowned as it barely made a sound. "I'm the excitable sort. Energetic. A bit all over the place, but clever enough to keep the paychecks rolling in. My bad."

"Just. . . alright, explain the opportunity. I'll try not to keep interrupting you." I crossed my arms.

"Every kid in Golden Academy is a dropout waiting to happen," explained Frank, his predatory grin back and gleaming more than ever, "a few already are. Every one of them has a parent who is one paycheck, or police complaint, or missed interest payment away from dropout status. Normally they'd then wait a year to get a Life Plan. Normally. Golden Dawn draws up contracts with parents to pay its fees on credit, and to consider all its debtors dropouts-in-waiting, their sentences extended as long as we don't call it in. And they do it because we've managed to achieve the second highest acceptance rate for their kids into the Ivy league and its equivalents worldwide. The kids who turn eighteen and stay typically owe us just as much in like three or four months since they don't have jobs. . .."

I stopped hearing him. Wide-eyed I looked at my mom and she looked away, staring down at the table as I tried to catch her eye. I leapt up, crashing the heavy chair I was sitting on against the far wall as I pushed it away from me. I grabbed onto her neck. My mother weakly batted at my hands, but she didn't look up, and I wasn't giving up. I peeled down the cloth covering her neck.

Contrasting sharply against her milky white skin was a tattooed collar.

"You fucker!" I yelled and leapt across the table at Frank. He pushed himself away from the table, wheeling back, but I was tall like I said, and pretty athletic, and I had my left hand on his shoulder practically on his neck even as my legs awkwardly caught on the table.

I pulled my punch at the last second. Oh I definitely hit him, but instead of breaking his nose I smacked him in the cheek hard enough that it wouldn't leave TOO big a bruise. Then with my solid grip on his shoulder I shook him, and slammed my right hand down on his chair's arm.

"Fuck. Explain, and if I don't like your explanation understand that your whole little company better watch out if it thinks it can threaten me with my mother. I will not allow anyone to fuck with my mother."

"Oh! An-drew!" said my mom in a sing-song voice, her warm motherly voice.

I turned to her, and she was standing up, looking at me and smiling bright. Her cheeks were pink.

"You look just like your father, that stare, so manly!"

I sighed. "Sit back down mom." Leave it to her to think my dark threatening gaze was manly.

Back in my chair, I stared down Frank across the table and gestured for him to continue.

"You've got some self-control ki— Andrew, I think you could have killed me with that." Frank rubbed his cheek.

I just stared back at him.

"Yeah, yeah. We're not threatening your mom, or you through your mom. She's a gift. Even if you reject this opportunity we have for you, if you walk away from this school, you will take her home with you and be her owner. Unless you really really don't want to be. I've actually got the paperwork here somewhere." Frank leaned down under the table and pulled a briefcase up onto the table. After a few seconds of rummaging he slid the paperwork in question over, a pen right on top.

"Don't you mean her custodian?" I asked.

"Uh, no. That language — wards, custodians, LaRose has never been happy with dropouts being called something so sterile. So since we own your mom's debt she's property, and if you sign the paperwork you're her owner." Frank gestured at the paperwork, miming at me to read it.

I read it thoroughly. Mom was in debt for my schooling and our tiny home. As long as she made regular payments she was fine, but Golden Dawn had called in her debt, an option it maintained after three years or more of minimum payments. The hell? If this was what all the parents of Golden Dawn students were signing most of them were truly incompetent or **** for their kids to get a great education. Apparently in calling in the debt they were waiving it all, and in fact had bought the tiny house I'd spent the last five years in and added it to the debt they were waiving — all my mom's debts were waived in exchange for her becoming a dropout.

The next page made it clear that I was being offered right of first refusal to take ownership of her, and that I was under no obligations to Golden Dawn, or LaRose, for taking the responsibility. Of course I signed right away.

Before the ink was dry my phone dinged. I pulled it out. It had confirmation that the Life Plan Application had been made available to me. I gave permission and the app started downloading as I set my phone on the table and let out a long hiss.

"Keep explaining," I said.