Word War

If you ever play Scrabble, this one's for you

     Brian meant to lose the game, though he knew Dad wanted him to win. He often won, but he didn't want to now. Brian was twelve and tired of playing kids in his group, mostly girls. Tall, clear-eyed girls, awkward, and much more competitive than Brian. He won anyway. 

---

     "Are you studying the OSPD?" Dad said.
     They were going to the auditorium.
     "Of course," Brian said.
     He lied.
---
     Though he held the book, he'd gutted the 'Official Scrabble Players Dictionary' so it held the slimmest Gibson book he had. A few clean pages of word lists stayed, in case Dad looked.
     Brian wore glasses, used big words and got called a 'geek' by other kids.
     Dad called his glasses 'spectacles.'
     Not a good Scrabble word. Only three letters counted over one point, the 'P' and 'C's, and it used too many 'S's. It may work with other words.
---
     Brian wanted to wear contacts. He wanted girls to see him a new way. He wanted many new things. Scrabble was a game he played with Dad for years. Brian was intrigued when he was able to play competitions. Playing a hundred tiles in only twenty-five minutes seemed great.
     But now he was a 'geek.'
---
     "Here we go," Dad said. "Got your lucky talisman?"
     "Of course," Brian said.
     It was a toy from a drive-up after a good game long ago.      
     He lied.
---    
     Brian and Dad joined more parents and kids.
     Parents sat on bleachers and were silent during games. It was a new rule after some mean altercations. Kids played one competition game a day, but parents...
     'Altercations' was a good word if a player got a triple word, played off 'alter' and had too many vowels. 'Cariole' was better. Save the 'S' for add-ons.
---    
     Again Brian sat across a table facing Frances. She was good, but got too excited to think well after fifty-point Bingo plays to be a top player. She was like ice at the start of a game.
    Brian would be icier ice.
    She played defensively.
     Frances began the game with 'yaw.'
     She got a fair start score but 'yaw' was very easy to build words from.
     Brian's seven tiles were great.
     Too good.
     He took the full three minutes allowed, just to figure out a loser. He chose 'would,' made 'yaw' 'yawl' and wasted point letters 'W' and 'D.' No doubles. He put 'O' next to an empty double word square Frances could use, if she got the 'X' and 'O.' She could play 'ox' twice, with 'wo.' Good points.
---
     He tried not thinking.  
     The game seemed endless. Brian kept getting good tiles.
     But he was smart, smarter than even Dad knew.
     Brian knew how to lose, and lose he did.
     Frances was secretly shocked, but said her prim "Thank you" and left without a smile. Typical.
     Fifteen tables and thirty chairs got put away.
     It was over.
---         
     Going home was almost silent.
     "Brian," Dad said. "What were you doing?"
     "I lost, Dad."
     "You know I watch you. You could've won. Why didn't you? That's what I mean. W-h-y, Brian."
     "I'm tired of Scrabble, I guess."
     "What?"
     "I don't want to play."
     "You're close to a trophy, more money. What're you saying?"
     "Dad, I'm nearly thirteen, you call my glasses 'spectacles,' you make me read the OSPD like it's the only book there is and... but I can't now. I'm sorry, Dad. It's just too hard."
     "I taught you..."     
     "I know, Dad. You taught me to win and I won. I can lose too. I'm sorry, Dad. I want contacts, not 'spectacles.' I'm sick of thinking of girls like words they play. I already think about one girl a new way. Carol. Scrabble's making me sick!"
     "Sick? Who's Carol?"
     "I know these weird words nobody else does! At school they all call me a geek! Except Carol! I won't play, Dad! I'm just... sorry." Brian looked away. 
---  
     Silence.
     Brian worried he'd hurt Dad. He liked him, but hated that game.
     Dad picked up the OSPD and Brian nearly grabbed it.
     Dad didn't give it one look. He threw it out the car window.
     "Um." Brian didn't know what to say. He had more Gibson, but...
     He said, "Why'd you do that, Dad? It's littering, isn't it?"
     Dad glanced at him.
     "I suppose. I guess I needed to clean out my head," he said. "I can help you grow up other ways. It's girl-time, it seems. You can go back to Scrabble later," he said. "Probably years later." 
     Dad sighed.   
   

Author's Note

Any constructive criticism is welcome.
Hope you enjoy the story. Thanks for reading!

Reviews

[Unspoken poet]

Wow, so very good. Descriptive write here, like the imagery you write with as well

[LJ]

Thanks! I'm very glad you read this and enjoyed it.