Page 69 of Trick Play
In light of all the happy feelings engendered by Cal, I haven’t felt at all like listening to the voicemail Gray left days ago to find out what he has to say for himself. But when he texts me on Wednesday afternoon while I’m in the library asking if I want to meet him for dinner that night, I decide I should at least listen to his voicemail to hear his apology before making a decision about dinner.
Except there’s no apology. Just further justification for his behavior, and I’m not interested in that. At all.
Why is it that the guy I was only casually sleeping with is the one who wanted to go tear Brent limb from limb, and not my protective big brother? Why is Cal the one who thinks my response to the profound injustice of my situation was mild compared to what everyone deserves and has mentioned several times that once football season is over, we should take a road trip to California. To visit my friend, of course. And, you know, if we justhappento stop by the frat house, and Brent’s face justhappensto run into Cal’s fist a few times, well, what a crazy coincidence, huh?
He did ask me what frat Brent belongs to, and I answered without thinking anything of it. But then he pulled out his phone, his face set in lines of grim determination, and that’s when I found out he knows the president of the local chapter, and apparently he’s working to get revenge on Brent through whatever channels he has available.
And yet my brother, the guy who came back here supposedly to help look out for me, doesn’t seem to care that I was wronged and taken advantage of. All he cares about is making sure I can’t be happy now, throwing my mistakes back in my face as proof I can’t be trusted, and that Cal’s really just out to use me the same way Brent did.
Fury bubbling in my veins, I delete the voicemail and ignore his text message. Let him figure out I won’t be joining him for dinner. And I won’t be riding with him to Mom and Dad’s tomorrow night either.
I will need to actually talk to Mom and Dad sooner than later, and not just the minimal updates by text I’ve been giving, because I can only stay in the dorm through next week. Once finals are over, I need somewhere to stay over the break. And while I’m sure I could stay with Cal if it came to that—and I plan on staying there at least some of the time regardless—he’ll be going home to Oregon for part of break to see his parents and then they’re off to California for the Poppy Bowl.
They’ll be gone for almost a week, getting acclimated to being there ahead of the most important game of their season. And considering this is the team’s first year as a Division I school, the fact they’ve made it this far is impressive and a tribute to the new coach’s strategy. Though with the way these things work, it’s possible his contract included hitting certain success benchmarks in his first year if he wants to continue. But he should be guaranteed to stick around for at least a few years after this, so good for him. At least I should have good football seasons to look forward to while I’m stuck here.
And while part of my goal was originally to leave as soon after Gray as possible, now it’s Cal’s absence I’m dreading. He only has one more semester, and then he’s gone. And if he gets drafted like he’s hoping, he’ll be off to who knows where, but almost guaranteed it’s far away, while I’ll be stuck here.
Yet another reason to cultivate Ellie’s friendship, I guess, because she’ll be stuck in the same boat as me with Simon leaving and her still having at least two years left of school. Though with her waiting over a year to declare a major, will she need longer to finish? We haven’t really discussed it. I wonder if she’d be open to the idea of summer classes with me so we can both get out of here faster …
It’s with those thoughts buzzing around my head that I get a text from my mom, checking in to find out if she’ll see me tomorrow.
Sighing, I gather up my things. With my family members texting me and my swirling thoughts, I’m not going to get any more studying done right now. Might as well go back to my room, have a snack, deal with my mom, and finish the paper due tomorrow before meeting up with Cal tonight. It’s mostly done, but there are a couple spots I want to double check before giving the whole thing one more read through and making sure my bibliography and footnotes are all formatted properly. I’m always lazy when doing footnotes and just stick them in with a reference I’ll understand and then fix it later. It makes more work on the back end, but it gets me through drafting my papers faster, so I don’t mind too much.
Pressing my phone to my ear, I listen to it ring a couple times before my mom picks up. “Piper!” She sounds surprised, but not upset. “I didn’t expect you to call back. How are you?”
It’s that same overly concerned tone I’ve come to resent so much, but I grit my teeth and force myself to answer as normally as possible.
“Good. Great, actually. This week is less hectic than most of the semester’s been since we’re winding down. I have a paper due tomorrow, and it’s almost done. I’m just taking a little break to get some space from it before finishing it up.”
“Oh, well, that’s good,” she says.
“How’s work for you?” I ask, hating the stilted quality of the questions and answers, even as she spends a few minutes gushing about her latest project. She’s in her favorite part of a project where she gets to spend time picking fabrics and styles, creating the space of the clients’ dreams. Normally I love listening to her talk about it, but right now the forced brightness in her voice just serves to illustrate how far from normal we are.
“So,” she says, winding down and I know getting down to the real purpose of this conversation. “Tomorrow is Thursday.”
“It is.”
She sighs at my nonresponse. I know what she’s asking. For one, she already asked it in her text message. For another, even if she hadn’t, I’d know just based on that. “Will you be coming to dinner tomorrow?” Despite the quiet volume of her voice, there’s an edge to it, that special edge that moms everywhere do so well that says I better give her the correct answer.
And we both know I’m not going to. Or at least I know. She should know. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t even be asking, because she would just expect me to show up.
It’s my turn to sigh. “Not this week, Mom.”
She’s silent for a long moment, and so am I. I stay on the phone even as I enter my dorm and start walking up the stairs.
“Where will you go for break?” she asks at last, her voice even quieter, that edge completely lacking now.
I really hate this, because right now she just sounds sad. Heartbroken. Worried. And not the overly cautious worried about me breaking again that I’ve been dealing with for months and months. No, this is a different sort of worry. Like she’s afraid I won’t ever come home, and she doesn’t know how to handle that.
“I’m hoping I can still come home,” I say carefully, not missing the way she expels a breath in relief. I’m not sure she’ll still feel that way by the time I’ve said all I have to say, though. “But only if I can be treated with the same trust you give Gray.”
I’m tempted to say more, but I’m proceeding with caution. I’m not entirely in a position to give a list of demands and expect them to be met. Especially since I don’t have a backup plan at this point. I’m making some assumptions about Cal’s willingness to have me around based on how things have been going for the last week, but I haven’t exactly asked him yet. I can’t handle a month of feeling like I’m essentially grounded, though, with fewer freedoms than I had in high school.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
Pulling out my key, I unlock my door and push through. Dani’s not home yet. She has class at this time, so it’s not surprising. I drop my bag inside my bedroom door and head over to the couch, flopping down so I can finish this conversation.
“It means that I’ll tell you if I’m going to stay out late or spend the night elsewhere as a courtesy, but you don’t get to monitor my whereabouts like I’m a child or try to prevent me from seeing anyone in particular.”
