The Player Game

Chapter 24

Dedicated to PinkAngel22.  Every single chapter you have commented and voted on, and I really appreciate the support so much.  I hope you'll continue to read my work.

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E N J O Y

I’m stuck inside on a Saturday night.  A week has passed since the incident, and yet, I haven’t spoken to Aaron since.  My last weekend of being grounded is passing by at a snail’s pace and I don’t even have the twins or my parents to entertain me.  They’re out until tomorrow morning, taking part in a kid’s fundraising event a couple of towns over.  The door is locked, though, and a camera so stupidly installed outside my room to make sure I don’t leave.  My food for the night is two sandwiches and an apple… delicious.

As much as my parents and I have a good relationship, they have a tendency to go overboard when grounding me, hence the camera, and especially in these circumstances.  There had been no way to hide the truth from them when I arrived home last Sunday morning with a large plaster on my cheek and another on my head, not to mention the fact that the police had turned up only a minute later to ask further questions about the attack.  The two of them hadn’t taken kindly to the unexpected news.

I roll onto my back, sighing loudly, and staring blankly at the ceiling.  I trace the pattern of the paint on the ceiling over and over until my eyes grow tired and wander around the room.  They hover over the pictures on the wall – my parents and me, the twins and me, Micky and me, Verity dancing at a party – before they land on the one in the center.  Aaron and I are caught in action, our faces pulled into childish expressions as we ride on a rollercoaster at the themepark.  Aaron’s eyes are squeezed half-shut, a cheesy grin pulling his lips apart.  His two fingers are behind my head like mini bunny ears whilst I stick my tongue out at the camera.

Aaron, Aaron, Aaron - the one person who flies in and out of my mind like a boomerang.  I can’t seem to sort out my feelings about him.  He’s settled into my mind like a homeless person finding a warm cubby hole.  No matter how many times I try to shift him out, he always hobbles back in, smirking and tutting at my useless attempt to get rid of them.

For lack of a better thing to do, I decide to roll off my bed.  I do so sharply, landing on the carpet with a thud.  The air is knocked out of me but, at the same time it’s a nice kind of impact, and it gives me something to do at least.

I start to roll around again, sticking my legs in the air as I do so.    I’m just starting to work out a rolling routine when there’s a tap from the window.  I pass it off as a large fly having an unlucky aim, not wanting to stop when I’m just about to reach the roly-poly.  I manage to do so, landing crouched on my feet, like a ninja, when the same tapping sound happens again, louder this time.  Too loud for a fly, no matter how large.

I whip around, still crouched, to face the window in a defensive tiger-like stance.  It’s funny how boredom can affect your actions like that.  Instead of finding the window empty, as I’d been hoping, a face peers through with interest.