negative_feedback | (no subject)

late April 2021

This is bad. This is probably awful, actually. She's going to get grounded, she's going to lose her phone, her computer, and her TV privileges. She's going to be forced to break up with Richie, because she's going to be grounded to never, ever leave the cottage again, and he's going to get bored and break up with her.

That doesn't even make sense. But Regan doesn't care, because it's all true, anyway.

Greta's at a parent-teacher conference. Greta's at Regan's parent-teacher conference. She's going to find out that not only is Regan very nearly failing English and History, but she's also forged Greta's signature on one of her report cards, because at the time, that'd seemed like a better option than letting Greta see the report card for herself.

And now she's going to see it anyway. With the forged signature on it.

And Regan is going to be grounded until 2079, or something.

She's been so nervous that she actually did all of her homework. Like, for all of her classes. In a single afternoon. She hasn't done that in weeks, maybe months, but she's filled with so much nervous energy that she couldn't help herself.

As the end of the evening draws nearer, and Greta's due to be home, Regan finds herself pacing. Her phone is in her hand, and even though it hasn't buzzed with a new text, she finds herself checking it every few minutes, anyway. And then, when Cu and Sadie perk and head towards the door, Regan knows she's going to be in for it. She's seen Greta mad only once or twice, ever, since coming to Darrow, and she prepares herself for the worst of it, now.

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She flinches, just a little. Not because she'd read Greta's tone as particularly angry, but because she didn't mean to lie about it. It'd just sort of popped out. She really didn't want Greta to worry, but she's so obviously not fine, and she's been trying so hard to convince herself that she is that'd turned to that before any sort of explanation.

She sighs and rubs her face.

She hesitates, then tries, "It's... I just..." She stops and sighs, this time in frustration. "Nothing I say is gonna sound good enough," she explains. "It's all just excuses."

"Try me," Greta replies, eyebrows raised pointedly. They can't all be excuses — at least, not to her way of thinking. That would imply that Regan simply doesn't care, and she's not about to accept that. Not least of all because if Regan was truly that indifferent, she probably wouldn't have put so much effort into hiding it, or looked so anxious over being found out.

"I," she tries, and falters again. She tries to get her thoughts into order, and when she feels like she does, she nods. "I just... let it get bad," she admits. "Everything else just seemed more important than..." She makes a face, because even as she thinks it, it sounds stupid and childish, but she says it anyway. "Than school. I guess."

She looks at Greta, less afraid of her reaction and more resigned to it.

"I really didn't want you to worry," she adds. "That's why I hid it. I thought if you saw my grades, you'd get upset and... I don't know. Think you were failing me. Which you're not!" she rushes to add. She'd hid it so Greta wouldn't think that, because it isn't true.

At first, the explanation seems to take a shape she can understand, even if it hadn't originally occurred to her. Trying to settle into Darrow always feels a bit odd, even when it consists of unavoidable practicalities like finding work. But the need for work is more straightforward and—and tangible than the need to earn a diploma in a future that feels far from guaranteed. Can she really blame Regan for not prioritizing her studies over what felt like more immediate concerns?

But then comes the part where she insists that Greta isn't failing her, and that pulls her up short. She realizes, with a sudden stab of mortification, that she hadn't even thought of that. She'd imagined that Regan was worried about upsetting her because she feared a scolding, not because she feared Greta blaming herself for all of this. But now that the thought is in her head, she can't help but wonder if there might be a kernel of truth to it.

She knows she's been leaning on Regan ever since taking over at Green Gardens — long enough that it had been easy to take it for granted, to not consider it as something that might be having any sudden impact now. But that doesn't mean she bears no responsibility for Regan feeling overwhelmed enough to start letting things slide.

"Are you...?" she stops, twisting her hands together, then starts again. "Is it too much? All the things you're trying to do on top of schoolwork?"

She wants to say no. She wants to say that she can do it, she just has to try harder. She wants to be good enough. For a heart-stopping moment, she's reminded of her dad, and the way he never let her go out to check the traps with him, the way he always kept her home, where it was safe. Because she wasn't good enough. This isn't about that, not for the same reasons, but it makes her stomach feel cold for a moment, and she sighs.

"I don't want it to be," she says honestly. "I guess... I guess it is, though." She doesn't like admitting it, but it's still true. Maybe school isn't as important in Darrow, of all places, where people can disappear at a moment's notice or potentially die because of whatever random catastrophe the city dreams up around them. But she wants to do well. She wants to be good enough. And she hasn't been.

Greta sighs softly, caught somewhere between the relief of having a more solid explanation and the guilt of having her own culpability confirmed. Her fingers twitch, her own budding explanations feeling a little too much like excuses that aren't worth airing. But it doesn't seem fair to deny Regan something she'd demanded of her mere minutes ago, and after a few moments, she lifts her hands again.

"I wasn't really thinking," she admits. "It was normal, back home, to rely on older children for help. It's what everyone did. But none of those children were spending half their days in school on top of it all." She shakes her head, cheeks prickling with embarrassment, and scrubs her hands over her face. "I shouldn't be putting so much on you."

Beneath the mortification is the more practical concern of how to deal with this problem now that they've named it, and after thinking it over for a beat or two, she looks over at Regan. "What would help? What can I do?"

It feels natural to want to rush to reassure her. It isn't Greta's fault, she wants to say. Regan could do better. She could try harder. She could make sacrifices to help her out. But if she lays it all out, what sacrifices can she really make?

"I don't know," she admits. "You have so much going on. I don't want to add to it." That's the truth, at least. Greta's got work at Green Gardens, and she's got Saoirse to look after, plus the dogs, plus all of the chickens. Which Saoirse helps with, surprisingly well, but still. And Anne, too.