Playing With Chance

Playing With Chance - Chapter 11

"Have you tried my idea?" 

"Elliot, you really need to start waiting until about seven to text me."

"We can talk about that later.  How did it go?"

"It worked..."

"That doesn't sound like a good kind of 'worked'"

"It isn't.  He's being a jerk right now."

"To you, or other people?"

"Other people.  If you insist on keeping me awake we should talk about something else.  There are a few new people at my school."

"What did you do to them."

"Why do you assume that I did something to them?"

"The last new student I saw you meet ended up locked in the auditorium for a few hours."

"In my defense that wasn't unprovoked."

"And you tend to be provoked easily.  What did you do to them."

"Nothing!  You have no trust in me."

"Must I remind you of the ice cream?"

"What time are you referring to?"

Ice cream is a good weapon.  It's sticky, cold, and wet.  It doesn't get better than that.  Ergo, the reason I don't know what he's talking about.

"Exactly."

"I'm sure that what ever incident you are referring to involved someone who deserved it."

"Nope.  Not true."

"Nobody asked you anyway.  I need to get ready for school. ttyl"

"ttyl"

 I closed my phone, and got out of bed.

Instead of dragging my feet until it was time to go, I got ready quickly, and sat at the table.

"You're up early," my mom said turning around.

"Elliot has a bad habit of texting me before my alarm goes off."

"That explains it.  You would never willingly wake up."

"I've woken up on my own before," I grumbled.

"You just keep telling yourself that," she said setting a plate of pancakes in front of me.

I would have tried to defend myself, but there was food in front of me.  If I decided to press my case it might have gotten cold, and then it wouldn't taste as good.  It would be a tragedy to waste the warmth, and the reason that pancakes are good.  The fact that it's warm, is almost better than the fact that I can cover them with syrup, and not get in trouble.   

Spearing a section, I happily put it in my mouth.

"I'm worried..." my mom said as she looked at me.

"Why?"

There is no real reason for her to be worried is there?  If it was work related she wouldn't be telling me about it.  When she says she's worried it usually has something to do with me.

"You're happy again.  That either means what ever plan you had yesterday worked well, or you already have something planned for today."

"Na," I dismissed her fear, "I'm just going to continue yesterday's plan today."