Playing His Game

Chapter Thirty-Three | Mean Disposition

I padded across the carpet, stopping in front of her desk in search of the graphing calculator. Annoyance quickly registered as I flipped through stacks of books and papers and said calculator was nowhere to be found.

I was seconds away from giving up when I spotted it, sticking out from underneath a paper-clipped bunch of pictures. I sighed with relief and grabbed it, about to drop the pictures back onto the desk when the top one caught my eye.

It was of Junior prom, last year. That I recognized right away, because I had stood next to Carly as she took this very picture. My eyes took in every detail. Lauren was standing next to Tyler, sporting a fake glare because she hadn't wanted her picture taken. What I'd never noticed before was Trent, and how genuinely happy he looked. Standing in between Tyler and a girl I recognized from my math class, he looked almost exactly the same as he did now, except for the fact that his hair was styled neatly and there was a full, grinning smile stretched across his face.

I ran my thumb across the picture, a frown coming to rest on my face. What had happened in the past year that was so drastic it changed his whole demeanor?

Sure, he'd been arrogant and obnoxious for as long as I'd known him, but he wasn't always so uncaring and sometimes blatantly cold.

It obviously had something to do with his parents; I'd gathered at least that much from the way he clams up at their mention and the tension that develops when they're in the same room.

I pondered over it more and quickly grew frustrated. It had been building for weeks now along with my confusion, like an itch I couldn't quite reach.

But what? What could they have possibly done to make him hate them so much, and did the answer to that question have any relativity with his commitment issues? The same issues that ruined whatever I thought it was we had.

I jolted up and dropped the picture at the sound of a door slamming. Calculator in hand and confusions set aside, I moved to the doorway.

I peeked around the corner hesitantly, surprised by the sight of Lauren's mom. Her back was to me, thankfully, and she was standing in front of Trent's closed bedroom door.

I assumed Trent storming into there was the cause of the slamming noise. It was probably also the reason that she held her palm out in front of it, as if she'd tried to stop him from shutting her out moments before.

I heard her sniffle, letting me know she was either sick or crying. Given the situation, I was going with the latter. The sound made me hyper-aware of my movements, paranoid she would spin around at any second and see me.

The top of the stairs opened up right next to both Trent's and his parents rooms. I needed to get down there, but there was no way I could get by without being noticed and forced to suffer through an awkward encounter.

For that reason, I decided to play it the safe way and remain partly hidden behind Lauren's bedroom door until she left. And, okay, I'll admit I was a little curious as to what was going on.

After a few seconds passed, Mrs. Blake raised her knuckles to the wood of the door and knocked lightly. "Honey...Trent. Please talk to me."

She withdrew her hand from the door, bringing both up to rake through her normally perfectly styled hair. In all the times I'd been around her, I don't think I'd even seen her this shook up.

I watched her lean closer to the door again with a loud sigh. "You can't be mad forever, hon. Nothing can change the past; all we can do is move past it, as a family."

She might as well have been talking to a ghost, because it was radio silence on his end. The door didn't open, and there was no other sound until she heaved one last sigh and moved away.