Page 32 of Wrong Pucking Player

How are people like this able to con the government and get funding that they abuse for their own lives instead of saving for the child in their care, and those who genuinely wish to raise a child with love and affection remain on the waitlist?

I’ll never understand this fucked up system.

“Anyway, what a RELIEF! I’ve always been so concerned with your future because you’re obviously not the brightest cookie on the block. All my friends are always saying how smart that Johnson girl is and the talent she carries. I figured she’d automatically get into any internship she applied to, but to think some of her smarts and good fortune rubbed off on you makes me so pleased! I have to go to church on Sunday and thank God for his divine assistance.”

Now, I’m ready to snatch the phone and throw it in the fucking toilet.

Xandra notices my movement faster than I can process it because she’s lifting her hand up in the sky to avoid my attempt to snatch it before she’s hooking an arm around my neck so she can pull me into a hug.

She knows the power her touch has on me.

I muffle my growl in her shoulder to tame my boiling rage.

“What was that?” her aunt dares to ask.

Oh? Just her ex-boyfriend who’s ready to find where you live and make your life a living hell.

“Nothing,” Xandra presses while those devious fingers are moving through my hair as if to console the beast within me.

Damn woman and her fingers.

I feel like a puppy who’s ready to pounce on anyone that goes near its owner.

“Anyway,” her aunt just goes on, and I’m thinking she’d get onto the congratulations part of this conversation instead of condescending to my girl’s intelligence.

I’m setting myself up for failure for even hoping for such a reality.

“Sandra mentioned that there should be some sort of grant for this internship!”

Of course.

Why the fuck am I not surprised?

This bitch wants money.

Always wants fucking money.

As if getting the government funding to raise Mackenzie for almost sixteen years wasn’t enough.

This greedy bitch.

“I have no clue about that,” Xandra’s voice is quiet.

“Well, you should be researching this information ASAP. This could really help the family in our time of need, you know? Grants have deadlines, so now that you know this internship is ahead, you should be promptly working toward getting as many grants and program funding as you can. You know the government and organizations don’t give free money for shits and giggles. You have to prove you’re serious about being granted these opportunities,” she complains and huffs. “I’ve taught you all about the urgent discipline needed to be financially funded, Alex, and yet you always ignore my advice.”

“I…” She can’t even find the right words to counter this woman’s damn ass ranting.

Giving her the opportunity to keep going.

“You’re lucky you have such a supportive aunt like me. I figured you wouldn’t take this seriously, so I took it upon myself to do the research for you. I heard this internship is being sponsored by the Strattonville Stadium, which hasn’t opened up just yet, but will be! They’re being given LOADS of funding from the government and hockey organizations because they want this whole project to be successful. Sandra mentioned you should be doing your internship there. I forgot what your role would be since I can’t recall what degree you got, but it’s the least of our worries with the grants being generalized so that other individuals in various fields can apply and participate. This is exactly why this is vitally time sensitive.

“If you apply tonight, you should be able to get a response swiftly. They may also provide a huge amount of money for you to stay near the stadium so that the commute isn’t as strenuous. Heard that the streets to the stadium are still under construction, but if we can’t use that as an excuse, we can emphasize that you’re financially incapable of getting transportation there through Uber or carpooling, and I’m certain they’ll provide additional funding to accommodate such.” She squeals like this is her big break from financial freedom.

I’m dying to interrupt.

Just shut down this bubble of hopes and dreams she’s making for herself and not her niece, who earned this moment.

“I’m not sure I’ll need such accommodations,” Xandra admits and quickly adds, “Mikayla got in as well, so we can always go together. Her Dad is a coach, after all, and maybe he’s also working at this new stadium. If not, I can just bike or run—”

---