{ Chapter Seven: The Ambiguous Definition of a Woman }
SUCCESSFULLY MAKING THROUGH HER EVENING WITHOUT getting a third-degree interrogation was simple. It was around nine by the time that Janice and Karlo had gotten home -- who remained silent the entire trip in guilt -- and most of the family had already finished their dinner, gotten ready for bed (or, in other words, the twins were too busy playing late night games in their rooms). Sunday's really did suck the fun out of 2AM late night stake outs, but the only bright side was that Janice had already finished her homework. Once Karlo and Janice parted ways, though Karlo swore that he would bunk with her the day after before they did, Janice got changed and crashed the minute her head hit her pillow.
Even the baby wails seemed to pale to the lifted corners of her mouth.
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REGRET PLANTED ITS TENDRILS AROUND JANICE AND suffocated her until she could hardly think of anything else the minute she got off at her school bus stop. The ride wasn't terrible itself, quite mellow, actually. It wasn't even as if she had the jitters for an exam or test (at, least one that she was aware of), neither did it happen to be that she was awaiting a confrontation with a fellow peer, because trust me, Janice would've been eager if that were the case.
No, it was the Madame Parker standing by the pole, her tall stature of 5"11 overshadowing most of the students scrambling off the elegant blue transport, her hawk eyes, that could either be as gentle as a mother's touch or as sharp as granite, seemed to be scanning for an individual in particular. As it would be, whom just so happened to be beside Madame, with her hair in a plait and her school uniform a size too small.
You'd think Janice would be more suspicious about meeting her headmistress, but she could almost sense, (yes, sense like freaking Spiderman can) that Madame was looking for her about something more important than paperclips and binders. Unfortunately, when Janice cleared her throat and the woman's eyes finally latched onto the short frame beside her, there wasn't any doubt lingering.
"Ms. Diablo, I was wondering where you ended up disappearing," Madame said stiffly. "Actually, if you could, I'd like to request your presence in my office after first period. I've already informed the faculty about you missing a couple classes."
"If I were to be so inclined," Janice felt her head tilt to the side, "would I be able to be let in on what could be the urgent matter at hand?" A bitter taste came out of being so polite, but Janice quickly stomped it down.
Thankfully, Madame Parker seemed to be ignorant to Janice's polite turbulence. "It is something more than important enough that I would advise you do not take lightly to miss," she said, the cryptic message left into the air for a couple beats before Madame walked off to her duties. "Come, Ms. Diablo. Your classes will not postpone for your laziness."
That made so much sense, Janice thought sarcastically, stomping behind the woman. Hell, she's more confusing than Shakespeare sonnets. Miraculously, Janice kept to herself for the remainder of the day, not even bothering to raise a hand or participate, even when she was correct.
The only answer she cared about were to arrive 45 minutes later.
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IT SEEMED ALMOST NO SOONER THAN THE CONFRONTATION in the morning outside, did Janice feel a sense of deja vu, which wasn't exactly embraced considering she would've done without reliving the moment. She was facing opposite, yet again, to the headmistress in her office, fidgeting with her thumbs as she awaits whatever bombshell heads her way.
The mistress was a beautiful woman, if just a little too stoic to really tell what her age was. She seemed young and youthful, but the wrinkles around her eyes suggested that the harsh tutelage she worked mislead such inquiries.
Even then, an ageless sort of aura surrounded her, demanded authority. It wasn't fear that made people do what Parker demanded (occasionally there were a couple bladder problems, but only occasionally), nor was it because it is imperative for students to do as she says. No, it is because someone like her, with her presence, with her intimidating character, seemed to command respect without having to ask for it.
While Janice was unaffected by this scarily expressionless superior, taking into account of the amount of times she visited the office and they'd hold stare downs they had with each other, she still ruffles herself with memories, trying to guess what she did this time. Last drop down here, it was because she broke a girl's nose, in retaliation for the racist girl's remark for asking Janice to tell her dad to go back to his own country.
Maybe I'm finally going to be suspended, wondered Janice. But even that didn't seem to bother her as much as the poignance hanging in the atmosphere right this moment.
As far as Janice knew, she hadn't broken anyone's limbs. Didn't mean there wasn't ever surprises.
She hears a rumbling sound, noticing Madame was opening her mouth to finally say something. "I think you're the only other person here in this school that probably enters this office more than I, myself."
A faint smile appears on Janice's face, the humor in it more bemusing than relaxing. "Why, yes. I wonder why, considering I'm such an innocent little angel myself."
"Diva would be more like it," said Parker.
"So maybe I have a little sass. It's a character building thing!"
"Alright, troublemaker," said Madame, rolling her eyes at the defensive responses she heard. "You're not here to be expelled, believe it or not."
"Really? Thanks for crossing that off my bucket list of not-yet-done-but-completely-possible-before-I-graduate." It would seem silly if she didn't actually have expulsion all the way up on the top ten. She is Janice, after all.
Parker laughed quietly. Out of character as it was, you couldn't really blame the Madame to find their banter entertaining to a certain degree. It would've seemed a little pleasant to you, too, if you were always cooped up in a stuffy office, surrounded by spoiled brats that couldn't even bring themselves to either give you a second glance or open their mouths to say what was on their mind.
If Parker were quite frank, her school was a majority of ableist, racist snobs that she didn't mind raising her voice out on the whim sometimes. But Janice, well to Parker, she was refreshing, even if the girl's mouth could really do with a filter every now and then.
"As much as I'd love to assist you in such great, uh, ambitions," Parker said, "let's just say that the tables have turned and I would like to present you with an offer. This offer will be something in which you can help me with my own set of ambitions."
Janice felt her eyebrows scrunch up in the middle of her forehead. "I apologize for my lack of comprehension, but what do you need me to do exactly? Unless it's condoning violence or tackling children to the ground, I might not be your best option, ma'am."
Parker blinked at Janice's inferences. "Those aren't what I'd ask of you. Of course not. Why would I ask you to do that?"
Janice shrugged. "So then what exactly tickles your pants?"
"Fancy," Parker corrected. "And I need you to do a project."
"All due respect, Madame, but I've got enough of that assigned to me without your expertise," Janice said.
"I know it seems inconsiderate of me to ask you to do this, especially because I'm sure your junior year is overwhelming to say the least," Parker said. "But this isn't just any ordinary project, it's not even a district or community one."
Janice couldn't help but ask, "Then what project are we talking about then?"
"An international one." Parker said simply.
"Bu--"
"Look," Parker interjected, realizing that she hadn't even gotten to the main point of this conversation in the past fifteen minutes alone. "This is something I'm hoping you'll see as a privilege more than a burden. I picked you out of seven hundred kids because I saw something in you that I think would be eligible for not only the responsibility of this project, but for entering this specific competition and actually bringing home a prize."
Janice felt her mouth go dry. "Madame, not meant to be disrespectful, but you do realize who you're talking to, right? I'm not a straight A student. I'm mediocre in pretty much all my studies, I'm just hoping to actually pull some B's this semester. I'm not the most responsible, all my teachers can give you an essay on why and I'm not the type of person to ever win anything."
Janice hated downgrading herself, feeling like she was such a humungous letdown, and it didn't help that she couldn't bring herself to brush off any of the comments she'd made. She's been genuine, as difficult as it was, not lacing any of the truths with a sugarcoat or a lie. She hadn't gotten the slightest idea as to where her mistress could've thought she'd be a likely candidate, and while it was flattering, if not, humbling to say the least, she had a strange urge telling her that she could not fulfill whatever she'd been told.
"Janice, are you stubborn?"
Janice looked around a bit as she contemplated this. She didn't know what she expected from Parker. Shouting, a monotonous voice telling her to get out, telling Janice she understood what a hopeless cause she truly was. But questions? It felt like her job interview all over again, except this time, she knew that sassy answers weren't going to impress. "Uh, yeah, I'd like to think so."
"Are you strong?"
"Physically or mentally?"
"Both."
She tentatively nodded. "To an extent."
"What's your opinion on equality?"
"I don't believe in equality. I believe in fairness. I think these'a distinctive difference between the two."
"What are your feelings stereotypes?"
Heated passion inflamed Janice so unexpectedly, she began rambling. "They're like labels. Some people fill out these forms that society writes, these useless labels of nothing more than opinions, and some people don't. And there's just some people who can abide to the stipulations some of what these labels state, but not capable of exceeding all of them, and it's really upsetting, because they're the ones trying too hard to fit in either with the group of misfits or the ones that fit in. They are so focused on pleasing something as shifty as the public, they forget to indulge themselves. They forget that stereotypes are just a generic way of people trying to understand you, but sometimes, people are too complex to understand."
There was a pregnant silence that followed this answer, and Janice feels as if she must've said too much or not the stated an answer that Parker had in mind, and the former chagrin that had left Janice in dismay seemed to reappear. Finally, Parker spoke, but asked something that left Janice reeling.
"Where do you place yourself in these stereotypes, Janice?"
Janice doesn't know if it was the need to prove herself that made her talk. To tell her mind that she was, in fact, not a lost case, and because of which made her answer, and maybe she'll never know what exactly triggered her dormant confidence to unleash, but she's just glad it did.
"The one I've made for myself. I call it Janice Diablo."
Parker couldn't understand why this feisty, brilliant girl in front of her could think such self-deprecating thoughts when she'd brought up the opportunity. Janice clearly seemed like a supernova; she burned brighter than the yellow sun or the red star, and she had many great things to come out of it, but it felt like Janice was on the verge of self-destruct -- from what, Parker has no idea.
"So then, Janice, tell me why this doesn't seem like something you can do?" Parker finally inquired, truly curious. "Because from the answers you just gave to me, clearly you're more than capable."
Janice said nothing. There wasn't anything left for her to say.
"So I'm going to take your silence as a yes, then?"
Again, Janice remained silent. The clock ticked in the background, the erratic heart in her chest pumped blood and flickered like the sparkle in Madame Parker's eyes.
"Then it's settled. You're officially in charge."
"What's the project about?"
Janice's voice was like a whiplash. She wasn't rejecting anything (who knows, maybe she could do this), neither did she feel the need to deny any part. If she didn't know any better about the tingling in her fingers, she might've even been a little excited about it. But she found it comical that in this entire conversation, the subject of the project had not been approached.
Parker paused. "Just tell me you're in it, no backing out."
"I promise," Janice said solemnly. I mean, what was the worst that it could be about, right?
"The project was an organization formed by a couple of University students in London a couple weeks ago. The start of it begins today and the deadline is in a two months or three. They've given a question, and the best person to explain the stated subject wins a 50, 000£ prize. Even though it's a European contest, other countries are allowed to participate."
That sounded brilliant to Janice, who couldn't stop the little bounce as she asked one final question. "So, what's the subject?"
"'What Is The True Definition of a Woman?'"
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A/N: This question will take a lot of contribution from your readers, fair warning. Hope the chapter was enjoyable, even as a filler!
Regards, Sarena x