Before going home, Thor and I retire ourselves on the soft leather bound ottoman couch seats of our favorite hangout place, The Cushions.

The owner, Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford are sheerly obsessed with the amount of furniture and fixtures they choose carefully and meticuously for their small diner which they opened back in 1990s when they lost their first child and miraculously gave birth to twins. They are a few years elder to me but I have hardly seen the boys around. They couple say they live in California, near the sandy beaches enjoying the breeze of salty water, almost naked girls and big time surfing as they both are state level surfers.

I once imagined them with blonde hair, perfectly toned dusted body and modeling themselves with tiniest shorts in comparison to boxer briefs that bluntly hang on their hips with a hint of their hipbone that subtly moves out of the clothed confines as and when they move.

"hmm"

Someone clears their throat and I notice Mr. Rutherford waiting for me to greet him and my skin turns red. Mr. Rutherfood is a fine man with french beard and a french hat on the top of his hairy head. He is easily 50 years old and he looks not more than 30 at max, possibly giving superior complexity to his own kids.

I give him a side hug and he gifts me with a kiss on my cheeks despite observing my current distorted look.

He gives me a look that says, "Do i wanna know about it?"

I cast a slow shrug with a mischevious smile and at the same time Mrs. Rutherford with cherry red hair and and brown apron coating around her front comes in front of us and asks instantly, "what did you guys do now?"

Her eyes skim over us for a full minute by the time I look at Thor, silently deciding who should narrate the shenanigan this time?

His heads wobbles magically mulling over the thought of doing so and I wait for him to begin.

It's been over 10 minutes now and, mr. And mrs. Rutheford have tears in their eyes because of the bouts of stomach aching laughter.

And finally when each one of us is out of breath, mrs rutherford suggests that we go inside the restroom and clean ourselves because truth be told, we have messed up their ottoman and if it were someone else, she wouldn't have let them enter the diner let alone sit down comfortably like their own place and order food of their liking.

Mrs. Rutherford also has a soft spot for me for two reasons. One being that she always wanted a daughter and their first kid was a girl. She sees a long lost daughter in me. And the second being she helped me once to stay in her house which is one floor above the diner when my mother threw me out because I "accidentally" burnt Charlie Putt's hair. She was an annoying kid in my neighbourhood who used to brag about how she likes her long hair and how she nourishes them with branded products and what not.

I was agitated and boom, her hair couldn't have seen better days because they were probably fake and contaminated with too much sulphur. If nothing else,  I did them a favor.

Though, my mother went on a hissy fit of worry and my father was out of town. She couldn't woman up to tell my father that she threw me out and instead she ran around the streets after a few hours looking for me when she found out that I wasn't at my friend's place.

Mrs. Rutherford is humble and a smart woman. She took me in and gained my confidence and I made her privy to every detail that happened that day. She even managed to get out the landphone number out my mouth and called up my mother's mobile number when the land phone didnt get answered.

It's been about 2 years to that incident and from then both the women have been best of friends and I simultaneously gained another mother. My father doesn't know about the mishapenning till date, though. I can't even imagine what his reaction would if he knew my mother went crazy and threw me out only to diluge me with her kisses and hugs and limitless apologies once she found out where I was.

And after I eat blueberry pancakes with double cream coffe and Thor eats mac and cheese, we individually rush to our homes. Thor lives four blocks opposite to me.

When I drive in my Suzuki car, I park it silently in the garage and see that my mother's Red Wolkswagon is already parked. She is home and I honestly have no idea if she has received the news or not.

I ponder a few excuses but run out of it each time. She made me promise and yet I broke it again. What kind of excuse can I give it to her? I have already thrown the blame on Thor for 5 times continuously and one time I told her I was sleep deprived because of too much homework and therefore ended up sleeping in business ethics class.

I have already been given fair share of warnings in my school and college junior year. They have met with my parents an upteenth time and I have changed schools at least thrice in my career. I cannot explain why I have this desire to do something in my life. It comes from inside. I have never felt out of space when I plan tricks and implement them with sheer  concentration. It is unparalleled and have been lectured about it a couple of times that if I were to divert my attention to studies, I'd top my exams.

When I am defeated with non availability of any justifiable excuse, I inhale a great amount of air and lock the garage and enter the house from the side door.

It opens the entry to the spacious living room. The cream colored couch and coffee colored low coffee table is in between and the stainless steel utentils are hanging on the hooks in the open kitchen directly in front of the living room.

On one side of the living room is a large flat screen T.V. while on the left side, there is a glass seperator beyond which is a small gym and before that is a long staircase to first and second floors. My bedroom is on second floor and my parents is on first floor.

I see my mother talking to someone on the wireless landphone that hangs mostly uselessly on one of the walls of the kitchen because no one uses landphone now a days.

She's making pasta side by side because i can smell it. The thought of earning a handsome amount of punishment wipes from my mind as soon as I smell it even though I have already eaten and take large and quick steps toward her and hug her from back.

"Mom I am home!!"

"she's home,  Martha, I will talk to you later."

Martha is Mrs. Rutherford's first name.

Her frame turns about to face me and I have a miniscule flashes of a grudge movie's ghostess turning around to tap on your shoulder and give you the best scare of your life.

Her breathtaking green eyes that are usually full of life are now swollen. It doesn't go unnoticed and before I can ask why was she crying, she hits my shoulder hard.

"why do you do this, Micki? Why?"

I instantly know what she is talking about. I feel sorry about hurting her expectations about me and she whines even more and keeps crying when I hug her forcibly.

I coo limitless apologies in her ears and all she does is cry even harder.

I pat and rub her back and reply honestly this time, "mom, i don't know what's wrong with me, but I cannot seem to stop this emptiness inside of me if I am not upto some prank. It is like an itch which becomes irritable. Maybe I am addicted to always plan something and take things into my control and make fool out of others. I don't know the real reason behind it. But I guess that's how I am... "

Suddenly,  her cries stop. There's no sound coming from her except the sound of large in take of doubled air. Her chest is moving up and down pretty fast and for a second she gives me a real scare.

"Mom are you okay?"

"Why--why didn't you tell me about it earlier?" her eyes widen and there are new set of emotions hidden carefully in her green orbs. There's insecurity, fear and worry.

"I--I don't know, mom, I didn't feel like it. Why does it seem so troublesome for you?"

"The principal called me earlier today.  They are giving you an ultimatum."

"What?"

"Yes, they want you to cover up for your mistakes. You've done a great deal of damage to their reputation. Minister of Education was one of the witnesses of today's fiasco."

My mouth hangs open, I didn't know about it. I never even saw anyone there except my own faculty members. Maybe, I was too lost in plan of action. I want to bang my head with that same land phone now. It wasn't intentional. Moreover, where was the evidence that I was the one to do it?

"Mom, how can they even prove that it was me behind today's mess?"

One of her hands land on her hip while the other hand rests on the counter of the kitchen.

"Are you seriously asking me this question, Micki? Mrs. Bernard saw you and there are cameras all around, moreover the college isnt blind to your past records. You cannot always fool around everyone thinking it won't harm them."

The pressure cooker behind her whistles and she rushes to switch off the stove which was on low before.

When she faces me again, she continues with a stern and motherly caution in her voice, "After I requested them for a final chance, they are ready to forgive you for everything once you land up in an internship program for a reputed business firm. And you have to stay there for at least 6 months after which you've to submit a final report of your work done and findings in that field, lest... "

Her head tilts low in disappoinment and I lean forward asking the obvious question, "lest what mom?"

I gulp down my already dried up saliva. The silence in the room is defeaning and my skin starts to feel hot in wait for her to speak again.

"Lest you will be expelled from the university and won't be able to get admission anywhere in the whole country as well as some other countries for at least 7 years, you'll be a serious defaulter as per your academic record and therefore, your whole life ahead will suffer."

Her fingers scratch the marbled countertop, while her anxiety and her worry increases.

On the other hand, I am left at crossroads and I am stunned. There is a faint buzzing sound in my brain which is equally dramatic to the tune when someone dies and loses his or her pulse. This is the death of my life, career, ambitions and aim.

FML.