How to Trust Someone

Chapter 7 - Garrett

Chapter 7 - Garrett

The really great thing about artsy fartsy private schools, or at least Riverside: no homework.

Today, every single teacher went over the few rules they have - which usually turned out to be about proper instrument care or class respect - and their homework policies. It was so much better than I expected, because everyone has the same homework policy. No homework.

"Dad?" I call, waiting for a response. "Dad, are you home yet?"

No answer. Guess I'm home alone again.

Not that there's anything wrong with being home alone, but I never get to see my dad. He's always at work. As for my mom, she left my dad for another man not too long ago - I was fourteen and just starting freshman year. Which sucked, because fourteen year-olds are just mature enough to understand the weight of that sort of situation. So basically, every time I think about my mom, I think the same thing I thought when I found that note from her on the fridge.

That bitch.

I toss my bookbag onto the couch and walk into the kitchen. It's still pouring outside, so obviously, I can't walk over and order myself some food. I'll have to microwave a TV dinner or something. Or maybe, a couple of TV dinners. I'm a growing guy.

I set the timer on the microwave and close it. The light goes on and the food starts spinning. I chuckle a bit at how I managed to fit three TV dinners in the same microwave - they're all stacked like a Jenga tower.

I lean back against the counter and cross my arms while I wait. I'd take out my phone and play a game or something, but it's in my bookbag, which is all the way in another room. So I just think.

After dropping off Liz at her house, I didn't even have to drive another block. In fact, I only had to put the car in reverse, and back up to my driveway, right across the street. I'd bet any amount of money that she'd fake some exaggerated expression of shock when she realizes I live so close to her.

Which brings me back to her being such a fake. I know she's faking it. I know she's not just sunshine and rainbows all the time. I've already caught her being something other than happy, right in the middle of class. And now, I've caught her being completely emotionless.

I really shouldn't be so interested in Liz and how she acts and blah, blah, blah, but I can't help myself. I'm just so curious as to what makes her the way she is. I wonder why she thinks she has to fake her way through the crowd.

The microwave starts beeping, and it yanks me out of my own mind. I uncross my arms and open the microwave door, only to let out an exasperated groan. The TV dinners are all toppled over each other, dripping with mashed potatoes, vegetable juice, and some other stuff I don't feel like identifying.

I end up leaving the mess in the microwave, deciding I'll probably clean it up later. I open the fridge, pull out a couple of ice cream cones, and eat those for dinner. Then I sit down on the couch, grab my phone from my bookbag, and order pizza.

"Give us thirty minutes to arrive, or your order will be free," the pizza guy drones.

After I hang up, I play some games on my phone. I beat my high score on Bubble Buster, and then I find Waldo about twenty times in a row. I play through every single game in my phone before I finally give up. Maybe I'll text someone. You know, if I even have anyone's number.

The thing about not being able to trust anyone, people hate that. No one likes being around someone who's paranoid about everyone else. It's the same sort of thing when people love being around those happy-go-lucky sort of people, except the opposite. No one really likes hanging around me after they get to know me.