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

TREVOR: "Trevor, I need to talk to you."

TREVOR: "Trevor, I need to talk to you."

“Trevor, I need to talk to you.”

I’m sitting numbly in my car. I haven’t moved from the supermarket parking lot for an hour now. That stupid bag of potatoes is sitting in the passenger seat. Clarice is tapping on the window of the car. I finally roll my head over to look at her. She points to the door, motioning for me to unlock it. I do.

“Trevor, I need to talk to you,” she says again, urgently. She sits down beside me and slams the car door shut. I raise shrug listlessly and keep my eyes on the parking lot before me.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She nods and then pauses.

“Crap. I don’t know where to start.” She thinks for a second. “Okay, you like Haley, right?” I lean my head back and sigh.

“It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t like me back.”

“And you believe that? I mean, look at the way she treats you. Her feelings should be obvious.” I turn to look at her seriously.

“Clarice, you know that moment when you confess to someone that you like them?” She nods and blushes. Must be thinking about Spike. “Do you ever feel confident that you’ll be accepted, no matter how much you’ve gone through with that person?” She looks down and shakes her head. “Haley wouldn’t lie to me,” I say with a sigh. “She’s never straight-up lied to me before and why would she over something like this? I’m a guy, she knows I don’t read between the lines!” Clarice sighs.

“Okay. You know what, Trevor? Let me walk you through a little scenario, okay?” She rubs her eyes and sits up, looking at me intently. “Let’s say that you have someone very important in your life that’s dead. And, for whatever reason, you feel extremely guilty about their death. Let’s say that person tends to live with you and when you go shopping for clothes, her voice tells you what to pick, okay?”

“I don’t go shopping for clothes very often, Clarice.” I know she’s talking about Haley, but I’m not sure where she’s going with this. She rolls her eyes.

“Focus, Trevor! For God’s sake, I know you’re a guy, but try to pay attention to something a little more complicated than a football game!” I cross my arms.

“I resent that,” I mutter with a pout.

“Prove me wrong then,” she says in exasperation. “Now, this person is very important to you. Let’s say you go to their grave and you ask them a question. Say a question about a certain someone you’ve gotten very friendly with. Perhaps a question about, I don’t know, if it’s okay to be friends with that person when this very important person is cold and ten feet under. Are you following?”

“Yes. So I ask this VIP if it’s okay to be friends with this person…” I say slowly. I’m holding my breath, waiting to hear the answer. Though I think I already know.

“And at that moment, your mother, who is the one who forced you to be the way you were before you met said friend, appears at that very moment and drags you off to the life you led before. Would you believe that it was the answer to your question?” I scrunch my eyebrows in concentration.

“Only…only if asking at the grave had given me some kind of answer before…” Clarice shrugs.

“I can’t vouch for that, but here’s something else. I am not allowed to tell you how Haley feels. What does that tell you?” She pauses expectantly.

“That…whatever she told me is a lie?” I ask. Why are girls so freaking complicated? Clarice throws her hands up and lets out a whoop.

“He’s more than a caveman!” she yells enthusiastically. “Haley, you have chosen well!” She looks at me carefully. “So if you want Haley back, all you have to do is find some way to convince her that Trina doesn’t mind if she…does what she wants.”

I watch Haley the next day. She looks relieved, like she spilled a huge secret and she feels a lot better. But she still has that look in her eye that says something is bothering her.

***
"I'm home!" I'm tired and sweaty after soccer practice but as I head upstairs to shower, I see the back of Haley's head in the living room. My mom comes in the from the kitchen and hands her a cup of tea.

"What did you want to talk about?" Mom asks.

"Haley?" I ask. I'm not sure what to think or how to feel. Part of me is excited, even happy to see her face. The other part still stings from the rejection yesterday. No matter what Clarice says, it still hurts to remember, or think for even a minute, that Haley doesn't love me back. The head on the couch turns as I approach and I realize that though those are Haley's electric blue eyes, it's not Haley. It's her mom.

I move quickly to my mom's side, ready to defend her if Haley's mom starts yelling. This woman is nothing like Haley. The woman lets out a deep breath and begins.

"I, uh, I wanted to apologize," she begins slowly. "It's been bugging me for a while now." Never mind, that's typical Haley. Mom looks at her.

"Apologize?"