The Name of the Game

Chapter 4

Frank walked into his house without issue. He had used Ray's phone to say he was going to be home a little bit after midnight, so his parents had already gone to bed, leaving the door unlocked for him.

He walked into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door and looking inside. He grabbed a can of soda and closed the door. He mad his way to the steps, but he was stopped by a sudden scream from his parents's bedroom. He snapped into action and dropped his drink, grabbing the knife from behind the couch before running into their bedroom.

"What, what is it?!" he cried. His father turned on the lamp on his bedside table, revealing Frank's mother screaming and flailing in the bed beside him. Frank sighed with relief, lowering the knife to his side.

"She's just... having another night terror," his father explained. "Go back to bed, son. But great job on being prepared."

Frank grinned at the knife in his hand. "Thanks, dad."

He put the knife back behind the couch and walked back over to the steps. He put his soda back in the fridge, now just wanting to go to bed. He walked upstairs to his bedroom and was asleep in only a few minutes.

The next morning, when he woke up, it was already almost noon, and he had three texts from Ray.

R: dude can i come over??

R: k thanks well i'm coming over, we're going to lunch

R: i'll be there at noon bitch, be ready

Frank groaned and rolled over. He looked out the window just in time to see Ray pull up outside of his house. He panicked slightly and grabbed for his phone.

F: you know the drill, ray

R: don't worry, i'm not coming inside, i'm waiting patiently for you

F: thanks

Frank rolled out of bed, quickly changing his shirt and throwing on some jeans. He made his way down the steps. "Dad, I'm hanging out with Ray," he said. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner, he just showed up."

"That's fine." Frank's father nodded at him from the couch. Frank started to open the door, but his father stopped him. "Frank," he said slowly, "Ray doesn't know anything about your... involvements, does he?"

Frank closed the door. "No, sir."

His father nodded. "Good," he said. "I only ask because of safety reasons. I, uh, I don't want you getting hurt out there. A lot of people don't like us."

Frank nodded. "I know, dad. I'm safe."

"Good. Good. Well," his father said, clearing his throat, "Have a good time with your friend. Tell your mother goodbye before you go. She worries."

Frank peeked into the kitchen. His mother was standing over a pot of boiling water, staring into it.

"Mom?" Frank asked. "You okay? What are you doing?"

His mother looked up and blinked at him. "I forgot," she said quietly.

"That's okay," Frank said. "Come on, come watch some TV with dad. Doesn't that sound nice?"

She nodded. Frank reached out and took her by her skinny white arm. He turned off the stove eye, then led her into the living room with his father, who looked at the two curiously.

"What's the matter, Linda?" he asked, looking to his son.

"She just forgot what she was doing," Frank said. "She was boiling some water. She was probably trying to make you some spaghetti because she knows how much you love it. Right, Mom?" He was answered with a small nod and a timid smile from his mother. His heart nearly melted; it was more reaction than he got from her most of the time.