Disaster Class

05. your exile is official now

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓
" 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰 "
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          It's Sunday, I'm fresh home from church, and the minute I open my phone, the first phrase that comes out of my mouth is, "Goddamn it!"

"Wow, taking the Lord's name in vain already?" Dad says flippantly from the kitchen. I know Dad doesn't really believe in organized religion, but he drives me to church every time. I bet he's more disappointed about the swearing than the blasphemy.

"Sorry," I mumble, opening my notifications. I have to see if they really did it. Those assholes.

          Anya Havertz removed you from the group
          7:30 a.m.

There are five more notifications like it. I've been removed from the group chat, the class page, the discord server, all of it. Wow.

It's a petty offense, but I'm offended nonetheless. I don't even get the dignity of leaving the group chat on my own. Instead, I get kicked out. Again. Anya is just really rubbing it in my face.

I chuck my phone across the room in rage. Dad walks into the living room just in time, and he catches it with one hand. Being in the armed forces works magic on your reflexes. 

"Did you download the Flight Simulator app? I don't think it works," he clowns, handing me my phone back. His hairy face crinkles as he grins at his own joke. He sets a plate of fruits on my belly. "Eat up. Those papayas relieve stress."

I pocket my phone, and chomp down on the papaya strips in the most stressed way a person can. Sweet and crunchy, but these fruits are not helping me calm down.

Dad begins to do his yoga next to the fireplace. I join him sometimes, but I'm not in a very Zen mood right now. Dad's facedown on the floor doing his Balasana pose when he asks me, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I grumble through gritted teeth.

"Is it about the school thing?" he needles, ignoring my non-answer.

I sigh. "Yeah," I confess, "They removed me from the group chat."

"Oh," he muses, shifting on to cobra position. "So your exile is official now?"

"Dad," I say sharply.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I know being on the A-Class meant a lot to you; you value your education, and I'm happy that you do. But things have changed now. You're not on the A-Class anymore. Is that really so bad?"

I scoff. "Of course it is!"

"Why?"

"Because..." I drift off. Because of the humiliation? Dad won't take something as trivial as high school drama as an answer. He's too above that. But I'm not.

"Does being on a lower class make you any less smart, Nicolas?" he asks.

"No, but it's not about that," I reply, setting the plate of papayas aside. "Anya was sitting on this couch, eating a bowl of our homegrown salad, just last week. The week before that, we were having peer group study in my room. And the week before that, half of the class had a sleepover here. Quentin Jacoby knocked over a vase. You were super nice about it."

Dad shrugs. "It was a rotund vase. Only took me three weeks." He moves on to some sort of handstand, then raises his eyebrows at me. "So you're angry at them. That's what this is about?"

"Yes. I thought they were my friends and threw me under the bus. I'm allowed to be angry."

"Of course you're allowed," he supports. He strains, lowering his legs from the handstand, then moves into lotus position and just breathes for a few moments. His hemp robe and greying hair make him like a wise old hippie. Which he is.

"Anger is such a toxic thing to hold on to," he says. "Though sometimes it can be necessary. I won't tell you to get rid of your anger, or to ignore it. Just don't let it get out of hand. You and your mom tend to explode with your anger. It's the Gomez blood in you. Thankfully, you've also got a bit of Gray blood to balance it out." Dad winks.

I chuckle a little. This talk has lowered my stress levels better than papayas.

Feeling a little calmer, I go back to my room. Just as I close the door, my phone pings with another notification. It's an email from the academy's Book Club, the only extracurricular group I let myself join. Must be our year-end assignment. That's funny. They usually send these out after Christmas.

I open the mail, and it's addressed to me. Only me.

           Dear Mr. Gray-Gomez,

          This is to inform you that your membership in the St. Madeleine Academy Book Club has been terminated as of December 18, 2022.

          It has come to the attention of the club that you have committed a grave intellectual offense. The committee has voted to remove you from the club, and ban you from reentering. Keep in mind that this decision was made to uphold the club's values and to ensure its integrity. We hope that you understand and take this notice gracefully. 

Uphold values and integrity?! One of the members suggested Fifty Shades of Grey for our summer reading. Values and integrity my ass! I scroll further down, and see the signatures of the committee. The first one that pops up shouldn't be a surprise, but it feels like a cold slap anyway.

         Sincerely,

         Dr. Erik P. Goldman
         Book Club Moderator

And just like that, my Gomez blood is boiling.