by Tina Chan
“Who’s coming over for a visit?” Troop asked, even though he had clearly heard what his mom said the first time.
“Your father.”
“Why now?” He stretched his mind to the last time he had seen his father. Does he really think he can abandon us for ten years and then come swinging back into our lives?
“Troop, be reasonable.” His mom stabbed at her chicken salad, conveying the opposite message of her words. “He’s only staying for three days.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
The fork pierced a piece of chicken and struck the plate so hard its tines bent backwards. Troop fetched a new fork from the kitchen and threw the old one into the incinerator.
“Your father is going through some tough times,” said Troop’s mom. “He just needs a place to stay for a few days until he secures a new living arrangement. His house was destroyed by a mudslide two days ago.”
“He could go die in a mudslide for all I care.”
“Troop.” His mom gave him a reproachful look.
“It’s the truth. What kind of person divorces his spouse behind her back, runs off and doesn’t visit his son for ten years and then expect them to take him in?”
“That is enough, Troop Mendax.” She never used his last name unless she was seriously pissed off.
Troop decided keeping his mouth shut was probably the smartest thing to do. His mother pushed her chair away from the table and said, “I don’t want to hear another negative word regarding your father from you.”
“Fine,” he grumbled under his breath. Then his voice rose so that his mom could hear him. “Fine. When is he coming?”
“Tomorrow.” She checked her to-do list on her electro-slate. “I don’t have enough time to prepare the guest room for your father. Can you do me a favor and do it for me? There should be fresh sheets in the dryer.”
“Alright.”
He threw open the door of the guest room and surveyed the interior. It was a basic room; there was only a twin bed, a wardrobe and a single window overlooking the streets. Troop retrieved the gray, microfiber sheets and fixed up the bedroom in no time. I wonder if we have any itching powder, Troop thought. Wouldn’t it be a tragedy if somehow some itching powder made its way into this comforter?
He shook his head to rid his malicious idea. I better watch my thoughts. I don’t want to become the person I pretend to be in school. The Troop Mandex who attended Ludus High wouldn’t have had a second thought about dumping itching powder onto the bed. But the real Troop Mandex would’ve actually given a damn.
“Why didn’t you answer any of my instafications?” Jennifer placed her hands on her hips and put on a little pout.
“I was going to, but never got around to it. Too much homework. Someone should tell Brunes to lay off the chemistry assignments a bit,” said Troop. In truth, he hadn’t even read the messages Jennifer had sent him.
A student exiting the library blundered into his path; Troop automatically shoved the offender out of his way. Then he inwardly recoiled at his actions the moment he realized what he had done. I’m growing into this Troop at Ludus High character more than I like.
Not even a year ago, the old Troop would’ve hesitated at the thought of pushing someone out of his way; now it had become second nature.
Jennifer babbled on, oblivious to the fact her words were going in one of his ears and out the other. “Anyways, Tompkins tipped me off Maya was the next VicDay person.” By this time, she had lost her pout. “You know you didn’t have to do that for me.”
Troop realized she was waiting for him to respond. “Do what?”
“You know, set Maya up for VicDay because I told you I didn’t like her. You spoil me too much.” Jennifer clung onto his arm like a burr.
He gently shook her off, ignoring the pout reappearing on her face. “The group voted for Maya,” he said. “I didn’t vote for her.”
“Oh.” The pout deepened and grew less cute. Then Jennifer spotted her friends gossiping in front of the vending machine. She twirled away from him and said, “See you later.”
Troop relaxed the moment Jennifer left his side; half the time he spent with her he felt like he was dealing with a three year-old who always got what she wanted. Lengthening his strides, he hurried to his math class. A Perfect was never late.
The bell rang a second after Troop crossed the threshold of the classroom. He slid into a seat beside Mason in the back corner of the room. Mason looked up in greeting and wordlessly passed Troop the answer key to tomorrow’s math quiz.
“Jack?” asked Troop.
Mason nodded.
“Thank him for me if you see him.”
Mason nodded again; his taciturn demeanor was a relief to Jennifer’s non-stop chatter. Mason brought out his electro-slate to take down some notes.
Troop didn’t bother to do so; he could always snitch the math notes off someone else.
chapter twelve
[ Kristi ]