Work?

"What do you mean, kiddo?" Robin asked, swallowing again and avoiding another burp.

"Well we're supposed to ride down there, but then after we supposedly are going to be performing for a show they're gonna record." Titania offered. "Then we get the first half the day there, but we can't stay all the day because they're having a party that night for exclusive members and we have to clear out."

"And you get the privilege of paying how much again for this?" Robin winced. "Ok, if you want to, go ahead, but this sounds like a scam to me. "

Robin hated it. For the last ten years it had seemed that without fail some moneymaking scheme would be foisted on his girls. Magazines, candy, support local businesses, plays, go see the raffle, or what have you. You name it, a school had tried it. He'd offer to volunteer if they really needed the help, and he'd always been rebuffed with a quiet apology and explanation about insurance. Or Clearance. Or Paperwork. Schools had seemed to turn the experience into a non stop orgy of moneymaking schemes and salesmanship learning opportunities.

"I uh... don't really, but you said you wanted me to get out more." Titania offered the suggestion with a halfhearted shrug.

"Not like that, kiddo. Sorry. I can go in if you want again if it's really getting on your nerves."

"No thanks, Dad. I remember the last time you walked in. I just play Karma Chameleon every time play it again walks in to the class and everybody gets the joke." Titania shrugged.

"I TAUGHT HER THAT!" Miranda shouted from the recently appropriated couch, causing a wince of pain to float through Robin's brain again.

"You're at an eleven... can we have it around a six please?" Robin held his hand over his head, then lowered it to about the level of his waist.

Miranda lowered her head and shoulders, and a grimace crossed her features.

"Sorry..." She spoke slowly and lowly, exaggerating the growl at the end in an obvious facsimile of a cartoon character of some kind.

Titania looked on as her father continued his morning routine, and she sat at the nearby table and enjoyed her breakfast while she did so. Self-conciously, she toyed at the pink mace container that hung at the level of her keys. She'd never had to use it, but Lauren had given it to her after hearing a few stories about high school.

Dad hadn't quite gotten that. His attitude had been that the only way to deal with a problem was head on and direct. Unfortunately, that had resulted in the school PR guy giving him a whole song and dance about how every single concern was going to be handled. He hadn't reacted well to the bullshit.

As a result, Titania didn't like to call her Dad in on things. For her, it felt like the nuclear option, one to be brought up as little as possible. If he knew how bad it was, he'd take her to school every day, and the last thing she needed was THAT, especially considering that high school was tough enough as it is. Only another six months. Less really if she didn't count the weekends.

As far as the Disneyland trip went, most of her classmates kept telling her to check out the Facebook page to see how cool it was going to be. Titania had just watched, nodded, and listened carefully as the teacher had described responsibilities that they would have to fulfill in order to get the privilege of the trip.

"Play it again? That's what's his face..." Robin asked, trying to remember the name of the weaselly little guy with the perfectly coiffed hair and wire rim glasses.

"He still won't take the drumline outside. We can hear it all the way back in the music room every single time he does a concert."

"If that thing started up right now... I'd be dropping to my knees and moaning something about the bells..."

"Dad, I'm not mad that you skipped them last year. I almost wanted to skip it." Titania said. "I just... he makes it so hard to want to keep playing music. I get in my room, and I play what I want, but as soon as I get to school... just... Pachabel again and again."

"I learned that on the piano as a kid..." Robin commented, remembering the rather pleasant piece to play, which involved a lot of flowing hand movements.

"It's fun on piano, dad. On Cello it's four notes. Repeat. Again and again." Titania sighed, looking at her Dad with exasperation. "Just makes it worse when you complain though. He tells you that you'll be really GOOD at that, and it pays well."

"Is that... money?" Robin shook his head and downed another tumbler of water. The fog was finally starting to clear from his head completely, and he found himself getting angry again, as he always did when discussions of Titania's high school came up. He had been absolutely disgusted by every single soft and non committal word that he had been offered as placation when he had real issues. Of course, the second he walked out, the whole matter had been forgotten, as he'd had to do it again and again. "Fucking money? That's not the reason you play an... forget it... forget it... I'll just get mad again, and that's what they want, the irrational parent to make them look good."

"You're a little paranoid, Dad." Titania admonished him. "Yeah, the school sucks, but it's not like they're trying to make you look bad. "

"Am I? You know the CIA in the sixties put a microphone in a cat for an operation called Acoustic Kitty?"

"See what I mean Dad? You're nuts. There's no way in the world that somebody would actually do that." Titania laughed at her father's joke. She rose from her seat and rinsed off the plate before placing it in the small drying rack that sat on the counter. "So... gotta go or I'll miss my bus.

She leaned in, giving her dad a hug, and enjoying the closeness. Ugh, bad breath this morning, she noted with some distaste before pushing back and waving as she scooped up her backpack. As was the well practiced routine, she was soon gone and the door swung shut with a clatter followed by the small sound of a lower rubber flap slipping into place.