It Started with a Bet... (Watty Awards 2011)

I feel like an idiot

42: I feel like an idiot.

I’m finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on the game. My parents and Haley should be here, watching. But they’re not. Spike jogs to the bench and pats my shoulder.

“Feeling okay?” he asks. I shake my head.

“Haley isn’t here and neither are my parents.”

Spike cocks his head to the side.

“Maybe your parents got called in for something,” Matt offers, on his way to sub in for Spike. I shake my head.

“Even if they were, Haley would be here.”

Spike pats me on the shoulder and sits down next to me.

“Dude. Win game, then find out about Haley. If I know anything about her, she got held up doing something important. Otherwise, she’d be here.” He nods to the cell-phone in my hand. “Has she texted?” I shake my head.

“But I asked Clarice to call her for me.”

Spike nods knowingly.

“She’ll find out and let you know. She’s pretty good about that kind of stuff.” I laugh at the lovesick look on Spike’s face.

“Oh? How much has she found out about you?” Spike turns slightly red and scratches the back of his neck.

“Too much man. If I don’t watch out I’ll be whipped.” We both laugh.

***
I come home to find Mom sitting on the kitchen table, her head in her hands. Dad is standing behind her, pursing his lips.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, dropping my duffle bag on the kitchen floor. Mom look up at me.

“It was my fault,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.” I look at Dad, he clears his throat.

“When Haley told us about Dr. Thornton following her to that date with Corey, she wrote him an extremely strongly worded letter about how he has continually messed Haley up and how we were going to undo the damage he had done.” Mom shakes her head.

“He deserved it,” she mutters. Dad pats her shoulder and continues.

“Apparently, Dr. Thornton attempted to contact Haley’s parents, telling them that he had seen her in a location which, according to this letter, ‘suggested that Haley was being pushed in a direction contrary to previously prescribed therapy.’ ” He gestures to a rather beat-up looking letter on the table. Mom must have wrecked havoc on it. I look at my mom.

“Which location?”

“The graveyard,” she whispers. I feel myself turn numb.

“What happened?”

Dad clears his throat.

“Well, it took a while, but the letter finally reached Haley’s parents. Her mom came barging in here asking where she was and waving this letter around. I said I didn’t know and she just left.” Mom sighs and shakes her head.

“We saw her pull into their driveway and dragging Haley out behind her. I don’t know where the father is.” I prepare myself to go over there.

“Trevor, they won’t let us see her,” Mom says gently. “They found out she was living with us and demanded to see her room.” I turn numb again.

“What did they say?” As Mom explains, I can see the scene unfolding around me.

>>>

”What is this?” It’s a picture of Trina, my picture of Trina in her hand. She shoves it in Mom’s face then smashes it to the ground. “Who do you think you are? My husband and I, we gave up everything: our jobs, our friends, our previous house, our whole lifestylesto help Haley. She was doing fine. She was doing well.” Her eyes are bloodshot, like she’s been crying.

“And what do I get? I get a bunch of crackpots who think I didn’t do enough for my child trying to ‘fix’ my daughter. Why? What did I do wrong? What did Haley do wrong to be sucked back into this? I don’t want you to come near her ever again.”

<<<

Recounting the tale, Mom begins to cry.

“I was so shocked. I didn’t know what to say. We weren’t wrong, were we, Trevor? Wasn’t Haley happier with us?” I shake my head. Dad, puts his arms around Mom.

“Haley was happy,” I say firmly. “You should have seen her two days ago when…” I can’t help but smile as I think about that night. Mom and Dad both look at me, waiting. I blush and look down. “…when I kissed her at the New Year’s Party.”

“You did?” Mom says, a grin spreading through her tears. “And she was happy?” I bite my lip to keep my smile from growing. I shrug as casually as I can manage.

“She kissed back,” I say, attempting to be offhanded about it. Dad grins wildly and sends me a wink.

“Nicely done, son.” I smile, but then my eye catches the frame on the table, the glass cracked heavily.

***
I feel like an idiot. I don’t know what Haley will do now. Does she still like me? Because…I love her. I want to beat my head against a wall for not telling her when I could. She couldn’t have heard me at Connor’s party, she was yelling and beating me too loudly. But I think she did hear me. Because the next morning she was so close to asking. Why didn’t I say it? Why did I change the subject instead? As I look out my window, I can see a woman packing boxes into a car. No. Haley can’t leave. She can’t.

“MOM!” I yell, running out of my room. “Mom they’re leaving!” My mom is sitting by the front door, staring. She already knows. I whip out my phone and call Spike.

“Spike, I need you to follow a car.” I tell him, as best I can, to get his ass over here before I burn it off. I can feel my voice trembling.

“I’m in my car and I’m headed to your house as fast as I can,” Spike says calmly. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

“Haley’s mom came back and got mad. She looks like she’s packing. Spike, please. I need to know where she’s going.” I’m about to cry. I, Trevor, am about to cry. I haven’t cried since…well, since Haley started pleading with me, asking me why I was “doing this to her” at the party. But still!

“Don’t worry. What’s the license plate number?” I rattle off the string of numbers, begging for him to hurry before hanging up. But by the time he arrives, it’s too late. The car is gone.

“I’ll find it,” he says, giving me a man hug. “I have some guys in the police department who owe me a favor. I’ll find it. She wouldn’t go far. I guarantee you she’ll be at school tomorrow.”

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Now I know you all probably hate Haley's mom right now, but can anyone see a reason as to why she may feel so upset about this issue and why she might be overreacting like this?

300 votes seems to be the magic number! Can we try that again?