“hey, janet--”

“gryffin.”

he grinds his teeth together and takes a deep breath through his nose before trying again. “hey, mom.” the sarcasm doesn’t drip so much as pour onto the perfect, gleaming pearl pink tiles of the kitchen floor. “are you going to sign my permission slip or what?”

she breezes past him, leaving a mist of alcohol and sugared cherries in her wake, too busy digging around in her purse to bother looking up at him. “permission slip for what?”

“orchestra. i told you yesterday, and three times last week, and--”

“you don’t have time for that, and neither do i,” the words come clipped, even, dismissive. “your father and i won’t have time to take you to any of the events or practices or whatever it involves. besides, you’ll be the only boy. you’ll get bored of it and be miserable, you’ll complain, and you’ll want to quit. what would you even play? oh, here it is.” she pulls out her keys by the leather tag attached to the ring and sighs in relief. “i can’t be late to another meeting. you can walk to the bus, can’t you?”

“the violin. they only start you on harp in high school. i really want this, i can get rides from other kid’s parents, i won’t get bored of it, swear! i asked you last year, too, and i still want to do this. please, please sign the slip.” he steps forward into her space and thrusts the wrinkled paper at her and a pen, his wide eyes made even wider by the thick glasses sliding down his nose. “it’ll take you ten seconds to sign it.”

janet recoils back from his hands and shakes her head, already turning away from him towards the kitchen door, intent on making her way out. “i have to get to work, gryffin. i’m not going to feed into your… antics.”

“it’s not antics!” he stomps after her as loudly as he can not bothering to be gentle, shoving the kitchen door hard enough that it bounces off the side of the couch with an unpleasant squelch as the plastic cover pulls and shifts. “i just want to learn how to play the goddamn harp--”

“gryffin so help me god if you swear again--”

“i’ll stop swearing if you sign the stupid slip--”

she whirls around finally meets his gaze for the first time all morning with a scowl. it draws fine lines in her foundation around her mouth and nose, showing some of the age she works so hard to cover up. “i’m not going to tell you again, gryffin: let it go. i have had it up to here--” she gestures to her chin with a violent jab, her blonde hair bobbing with it, “--with your games. i have had to call off of work too many times already because your principle keeps calling me in because of your disruptive behavior in class. you have been antagonizing your father and i for months and you’ve given me no reason to assume this is anything more than the same. the answer is no.” she blinks once, then gives him an up-down and replaces the scowl with an expression of pure exasperation. “and for goodness’ sake, change your clothes. you look ridiculous in that hawaiian shirt; you’re not a tourist.”

he steps forward again and reaches for her arm. “it’s not a game, and i promise i’ll do better if you just let me have this one--”

before he can even get a grip on the sleeve of her blouse, she jerks her hand away as though at risk of being burned. “no.” her voice is cold and firm. “i am going to work. this conversation is over.”

gryffin watches as she marches to the front door and doesn’t even bother to look over her shoulder or say goodbye to him. fury bubbles in his chest and rises in his throat like acid, but he holds onto it and waits until the front door is open so the entire street can hear him all but screech, “fuck you, janet!”

the door slams shut with a brutal sound of finality.

there’s little satisfaction in throwing the pen on the floor, or crumpling up the form he knows he’ll never be able to convincingly forge and throwing it in the far corner. and with the house empty, there’s no one to hear his anger as he storms around the house, banging the cabinets and drawers around or see him his tennis shoes all over the carpet to try and dig a stain into it -- anything to ruin the pristine, crisp white. even putting on an even more hideous print shirt doesn’t have any kind of victory to it. janet and richard never come home until late in the evening, and by then, gryffin would rather be hiding in his room than deal with trying and failing to get their attention away from their phones and laptops and onto him.

it’s only when he’s on his way out the door himself that one of the only spots of bright color in the whole house catches his eye, and for once, gryffin stops dead in his tracks. he has been to other people’s houses before, so he knows that most people put photographs and souvenirs on their mantel pieces. but the davis house only has one thing on their mantel: a venetian glass vase, poised on a lace doily. it is, objectively, beautiful, all brilliant cobalt blues and elegant gold leaf, with white flowers painted on it lovingly. it’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole of the downstairs. janet and richard got it as an anniversary present about five years after they adopted gryffin. the first thing they ever told him about it was ‘don’t touch it.’ back then, he’d been scared of breaking it, so he hadn’t.

back then, he wasn’t so angry. he called his adopted parents “mom” and “dad” and never questioned it. he took their awkward pats to his shoulders as affection, rather than the awkward nudges to get him away from them that the gesture truly was. he thought that the pride in his mother’s voice as she talked about how quickly he was learning and how blessed they were to have him in their lives was about her love for him, and only later began to realize she only praised him to other adults she was trying to one up and never complimented gryffin to his face. he used to be eager for the family christmas photos, with him sharp chinned and dark haired framed between them all blonde and soft like a magazine, and it was the only time they ever smiled so wide for the whole year. he thought, back then, that they loved him.

what a bunch of bullshit.

it’s amazing how easily glass shatters even on carpet, if you throw it into the air first.

gryffin takes a moment to admire his handiwork, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his face. there would be no ignoring this. and it’s that thought that has gryffin all but skipping out the door and to the bus stop, and turns his smile into a full out grin. if janet expected antics from gryffin, he would be more than happy to provide it in spades.