-- GUITAR GANGSTERS & CADILLAC BLOOD [Mona]

Mona was far too jaded for a girl her age. She checked herself in the mirror before leaving the house. She felt older than her years gave her credit for, and it was a rather recent development. Her family may not have seen it, but she was beyond her years, and yearned for the responsibilities that being adult would entail. And it wasn't just the wishful hope of a child yearning to grow up, but the stern belief that she would suit the world better if she were just given a chance. She was far too aware that it was not going to happen. Now with her mother, the stable world that she had all the confidence in had been turned on its ear. She had been sure that all she had to worry about was her family's financial situation, and now she had that to deal with along with the possibility of them being separated. It was as if their drifting apart now was in preparation. The air was cold on her, pressing in at all sides. She didn't even know where most of them went during their days, no matter how much she wanted to. They just didn't talk like they used to. It was a scary thing, she understood. She didn't like to talk either. But wasn't their mother's unavoidable death something that should be talked about?

These thoughts danced around in her mind as she walked down the street. Maybe she would come across a sibling, there was enough of them. She had asked her mother before why she had so many kids, and Queenie had said that she wanted a big sitcom family. That sitcom family had now become a drama, they couldn't hold themselves together anymore. Mona wished it could be like a sitcom, at least recorded studio voices would laugh at the jokes she had come to realize were not funny. Her gallows humor would not be appreciated by any person talking to her, especially when she joked about her mother. She felt that she had a right, but it made people uncomfortable. Cancer made people uncomfortable in general, they didn't know how to deal with it. She chose her method, a defense mechanism. She didn't know what her siblings did, but making dry comments about her dying mother worked for her. Perhaps she was slowly building herself up, waiting for the time when she wouldn't be able to joke about her mother.

At least she had been given some responsibility, her mother trusted her with Brian, still completely unaware of the lifestyle Mona was dipping into that kept her up late and sleeping in. It would be easy for her to pick up her baby brother during the day after sleeping the drunkenness off. She walked in, finding the classroom and stepping in. She saw a brunette who looked like she was the one in charge. After all, she was an adult. And with Mona's round face, she certainly did not look like an adult. But she held herself as one. "Hey, uhm, I'm here to pick up Brian," she said, walking over and spying the boy with his blond hair, definitely not as messy as his own. She wrinkled her nose, seeing that he needed a haircut and she would probably be responsible for that. "How was he?" she asked, feeling like it was the proper, adult question. It's something her mother would ask, but her mother was at her sister's house, and sometimes Mona wished she was in chemo. That would only slow the eventual death.


[you did good. xDD]

Even though she did not express much interest in things outside of getting up to shenanigans, she loved her family like nothing else, even her little brother. He was the youngest, the last one to be born before their father left. She still did not know anything about it, and it gave her a bitter taste in her mouth to think about. She flashed the teacher what was supposed to be a smile, but with her people skills she was not sure if she managed it or not. A for effort? Mona's eyes went to inspect the art project, but she couldn't really make it out from the distance she was at. Maybe she needed glasses, her eyes had been straining lately. That was just something she couldn't comfortable ask for, however.

Then the woman started speaking again, and it was about the project. She knew by the tone and the phrasing that it was something wrong. But she didn't want to make it seem like something was wrong. "Oh?" Mona asked, curious now. And when she went on, for a moment the Thunder questioned if she would be adept at handling this kind of situation. But she reminded herself that this is what she wanted, the responsibility that had been given to her that day. If that meant handling her brother's...art issues, then she could do that. She helped deliver the kid, after all, she felt a special connection with him. A gory picture? "My little Rembrandt," she said with a frown as she looked at the child. That was something she hadn't heard about, but she didn't wonder if her mother knew but just didn't tell her. The teacher said she had waited to discuss it with someone, so Mona wanted to believe she was the first one to hear about it.

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she walked over and picked up what he'd been working on, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at it. She remembered what the teacher asked about movies and scrunched her lips together. "It's possible," Mona said, turning back to the woman. They lived in a house with a bunch of teenagers, it would be more than likely that their brothers had pulled little Brian in for a viewing of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. "He might just be shaping up to be a freaky little kid." She placed the paper back down on the table, and stopped for a moment. Mona did not like talking about things on an emotional level, but on a professional level, she believed she could handle this. The girl looked at Lark and said, "It might be because of our mother. I don't know if you've heard anything or if...someone may have told you."" She was entirely calm and nothing betrayed what she was about to say. "She was diagnosed with brain cancer a few months back. It's taking it's toll." Looking a Brian, she frowned again. "Maybe he's feeling it too." It wouldn't be surprising, there was an uncomfortable ripple in the house now whenever their mother was around. No one knew how to deal with this.

Mona snorted when Lark said that the boy had potential, though she didn't mean to be rude. After all, it was nothing against her or what she said. She just had to think of where that potential would go, and had a feeling any of it would be wasted. It would vanish like smoke, because even though the world liked to boast its potential, the Landrys knew their place in the world as poor white trash. And it would only be some stroke of luck or fate that would make any difference. "Well, I guess we'll see if he pursues art in the future," she humored the woman, feeling more and more like a jaded woman with each passing word. It made her sick when she thought to care, how much she just didn't believe in anything anymore. But she tried not to dwell on it for her own sanity. She refused to become one of those people who pitied themselves all the time.

But she did laugh at the woman's next words, and here she was showing emotion, something that she still had the capacity to do. It just didn't happen as often these days. "Well, with video games these days, I guess so." They had been violent even when she was younger, and she was still pretty darn young. She understood that, but she would pay so much to age automatically, to be twenty-four instead of fourteen. Even older than that, since society didn't take anyone seriously until their thirties. Mona shrugged, her arms crossed over her chest. "He's a good kid. I mean, he hasn't started setting bird houses on fire, which is a pretty good record for my family." She said it so dryly that Lark would have decide whether or not she was being serious. Unfortunately, she was not joking one bit.

Mona hoped that the woman wouldn't be all tear-eyed and sentimental with her, especially if she was going to touch her. People seemed to think that was a good way to comfort, but it did just the opposite and unnerved Mona. "I have no idea, actually," she said, somewhat bitterly. "My mother is kind of private, but people have found out. I don't think she'd tell anyone unless she saw a reason to." And Brian's artwork certainly seemed like a good reason to reveal it now. Even though Mona could regret it for the fact that it was going to draw pity, and questions, and cancer was the bogeyman that everyone feared when going to the doctor. She got how people could get emotional over that. She just did not want it.

But the woman seemed more awkward than anything, and even though it might have been cruel, she preferred that over the sympathy. No matter how honest or true, Mona did not appreciate it. "Maybe he's finding an outlet or something.'" Her lips twitched into a frown. She'd been changed, they all had been changed and the family environment wasn't the same as it used to be. Brian could tell, she bet. He was young, but he wasn't stupid. "Well, I guess whatever you'd usually do with this type of thing? I don't know if there's kid therapy or what." She didn't like the idea of it, and all of her siblings had said no to seeing a social worker when Queenie had been diagnosed. "I think our mother has some plans, though, because she knows she's going to die." Mona kept forgetting that she shouldn't be so blunt about these things, that people did not know how to react when she acknowledged everything so clinically. But she wouldn't sugarcoat it with 'when the time comes' or some shit like that.

It was always like finding a rare gem, discovering someone who didn't blow the whole thing out of proportion. A lot of people didn't know how to react to cancer, the family found that out after Queenie broke the news. Her siblings, their aunts and uncles, grandfathers and grandmothers, everyone reacted in different ways and no one was sure if any of it was the right way. They walked on egg shells, they were careful about dropping the 'c' word like it was another, much more destructive word, and Queenie saw through all of it but responded so kindly. It was no wonder why Mona idolized her. "Yeah, well...I guess no one is saying anything because it's kind of a weird thing to tell someone. You know, this is my son, I have cancer, see ya." She shrugged, her humor on the dry side but humor nonetheless. I reared its head on rare occasions.

Mona nodded as she listened to the girl who seemed very down to Earth. She liked that. A lot better than adults who took on a tone with her, the soft kind as if speaking to an easily disturbed animal. It bothered her a little, but then again, there wasn't much that didn't irritate her. When she found things that slid right off, it was considered a success. "Oh, I thought maybe there was some child study team or something like that here." She had gone to daycare, all the kids had because there was no way Queenie could take care of them all the time, even when their father had been around to help out. They both had jobs, even though they received money from the government. They hadn't wanted to sit around and do nothing with their lives, another trait that Mona had come to admire with them. She'd loved her parents, and she was trying not to think of that lately. It would hurt more when the time came to let her mother go.

But then, when Lark spoke of a plan, her gut twisted, thoughts growing stormy. The plan? To let her die slowly. Mona wanted her mother to try the chemo, even if the chances were slim it would have any work. She just didn't want to watch the woman waste away. The plan was for her to die and for the kids to get the money for insurance. But what would it matter if they ended up in foster care, separated and labelled as wards of the government? "Yeah, there's a plan," she said lowly, and she tried to snap herself out of it because it was not very mature to be so bitter in front of a girl who wanted to help her brother. "It would be good to know if there was any way you could help Brian out, because our mother has been basically labeled terminal. He doesn't know that part yet." She sighed and looked at him for a moment, and they did bear similarities to one another. Blond hair, though his eyes were more blue than her own.

She went and got his book bag and put it over her shoulder before urging him to stand. He showed her the art project, smiling and she complimented it. Walking back to Lark, she said, "Say bye to the nice lady." He grinned and chirped out a "Bye, Miss Lark." Mona smiled a little and looked to her. "I should be picking him up pretty often, so will you tell me if there's anymore strange...behavior, I guess?" She liked asking Lark this question, it gave her power, made her feel like she had responsibility in this situation. She craved it like a starving man craved a buffet. And it was always held just out of reach for her.