Beware of the Bacon!

Here’s the deal in my house: When there’s pancakes for breakfast, it means Mom doesn’t have to work that morning and she has more time for cooking.

When there’s bacon, it means Mom made some extra-good tips at the diner that week, because we can’t afford stuff like that all the time.

But when there’s pancakes with blueberries and bacon? That’s when you have to watch out. Usually, it means there’s some bad news coming for dessert.

Mom was flipping pancakes when I came into the kitchen. Grandma Dotty and Georgia were already there, sitting at the table and demolishing a couple of short stacks.

“Good morning, Rafe!” Grandma said. “Ready for an absolutely terrible day?”

Dotty’s an awesome grandma, but you kind of have to get used to her. Like, just because she shouldn’t say something doesn’t mean she won’t say it.

“Here you go, sweetie,” Mom said, sliding a plate in front of me. “Fresh off the griddle.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “Georgia already gave me the bad news about Airbrook. And about me going back to Hills Village too.”

“Yes, well, that’s what the pancakes are for,” Mom said. “Kind of a consolation. I’m sorry, Rafe, I know how much you wanted to go to Airbrook instead.”

Georgia piped up then, while passing Grandma Dotty some more bacon. “So then, what’re the blueberries for?” she said. “What else is wrong?”

So I guess she’d figured it out too.

“Well…” Mom said. “I was going to wait until after breakfast, but Rafe and I have a meeting at the middle school this morning.”

“We do?” I said.

“I got an e-mail from the principal’s office saying we need to come in and discuss a few things,” Mom told me.

You might think that part would make me lose my appetite, but it didn’t. I mean, come on! It was blueberry pancakes. I figured I might as well have an awesome breakfast first, and then go back to my absolutely terrible day. Because whenever some adult says they want to “discuss” something with a kid, you can bet your last piece of bacon it’s not going to turn out great for the kid.

In the meantime, I didn’t complain or give Mom a hard time. Why would I? She was barely done being mad at me about getting kicked out of Camp Wannamorra. When she and Grandma came to pick me up that day, I think she was about ready to drop me off at the trade-in center for a new son.

Instead, Mom gave me the silent treatment for a while, and then yelled some, and then worst of all, cried some too. If you know me, then you know there’s nothing I hate more than seeing my mom cry.

The point is, even if I didn’t like how things were going now, it was my own fault. I even felt sorry for Mom, having to deal with me all the time. I mean, if I had a kid just like me…

Well, actually, that might be kind of awesome. But still, I felt bad for Mom. She deserved way better. So I decided right then that I was going to do whatever I could to make this next part go right.

Hills Village Middle School, here I come. Like it or NOT.