Fierce

I laid back down and went back to sleep.

Mom woke me for school.

I got off the couch and went to head to my room.

Just then, Eric stalked down the steps. His backpack, covered in brand name stickers, slung over one shoulder. He never looked back as he walked out and slammed the door.

Beyond furious.

He’d never exuded so much rage.

I stopped and watch him go by, stunned.

He’d seemed so playful last night, the last thing I expected was this uncharacteristic level of anger.

Stranger still was the fact that Eric only got this enraged when he was hurt.

What did I do?

I saw him go out the door and slam it.

“What was that all about?” Mom asked from the couch. Looking as astonished as me. “He seemed angry. Eric is never angry about anything.”

I grunted and shrugged. But if she’d have seen my face, she’d have recognized the anxiety there.

I walked to my room and entered it. Looking for a note on my bed or any clue as to what had pissed him off. I saw nothing.