Playing With Fire

Chapter Five

“What are you talking about?” She says at last. Judging from the look on her face, however, I can tell she knows just fine.

“You know I’m talking about Travis.” I deadpan, readjusting my position so that I’m facing her.

"He's been to jail twice but that's all I know." She states stiffly.

"Yeah, I heard that, but why?"

"Because—" She stops and heaves a sigh, "I don't know."

I raise an eyebrow, "So how do you know if it's true or not?"

"Because he's told everyone." Layla responds.

I raise an eyebrow, "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because he's so intent on keeping his damn reputation up." She grumbles, flipping her hair.

"That's really stupid." I state, just to get it in the open even though it was like stating the obvious.

"Yeah I know."

Silence fills the car, and I look away, disliking the negative energy in the car. It obviously looks like a tense subject for her—for anyone.

It just seems as if he’s making it way worse than what it actually is.

After a few tense seconds, I decide to let it go, for now.

When we reach the house, she parks in the roundabout and pulls the keys out of the ignition. We sit there briefly before she makes a move to get out of the car.

“Coming?” She asks, while shutting her door.

I nod and follow her lead as she makes her way to the house, silence still endorsing us both.

So maybe I should just leave this topic be around her. Or anyone.

"Mom?" Layla calls after  entering the house and shutting the door.

No answer.

We look at each other and then look forward again.

"Is she out?" I ask, trying to get what's going on here.

"Must be," She mutters, walking past me and into the kitchen, "Yeah she is. She left a note."

"Oh. Good,” I say, slowly taking off my shoes and walking over to where she is.

"Hey sweeties, my friends and I are out for a while. There are cookies on the cupboard for you two," Layla stops reading and fist pumps, "I'll be back around seven, okay?"

I walk around the island counter and lean against it, "Does she always go out?"

"Occasionally, when she wants to." Layla shrugs, sauntering to a glass cupboard.

She pulls out the cookies and places them on the counter for both of us to share, "Help yourself, you fool."

I roll my eyes, "You don't even need to ask."

She chuckles, grabbing two in her hands, and heads in the direction of the stairs.

"I'll be up if you need anything." She yells from the top, "Tell me when Travis comes."

"Kay," I shout back, plopping myself down on the chair.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞                                        

I’ve been crossing the line between concern and frustration.

I came home from school at two thirty, and now it's three fourty-five.