Текст книги "Freeing Carter"

Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn

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"Carter." She grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. "You're a good kid. You work hard. You help at home. You deserve a little break. It's not fair all that you do. I just want you to be happy and enjoy your last year at home."

She doesn't let go and I don't either. There's something in the air between us, something that kind of makes the puking feeling return because I know exactly what's she's doing. I know what she's saying, even though she's not saying it. I take care of her. Take care of a lot. What she does hurts her. Hurting me hurts her.

I feel like someone's crushed my windpipe. "You...work hard, too. You deal with a lot. I don't mind helping."

Lie. I'm such a freaking liar because I do mind. I hate it. Hate it all so much I feel like I'm going insane sometimes.

"I mind. I'm going to try...try to not depend on you so much." Then she smiles and lets go of my hand. "Plus, you have to get those grades up, too." This makes me want to laugh. She doesn't know the half of it. "Do you have homework tonight?"

Automatically, my head shakes. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome Carter the Liar to the stage. In the corner is a whole backpack full of homework he can't stop himself from lying about.

"Good. I know it's not cool to hang out with your mom, but do you want to watch a movie or something? Your choice. I need to take advantage and spend as much time with you as I can, since it will be your last year at home."

I'm not sure whether my smile is for my own or her benefit. "How can I pass that up?"

Ignoring the bag sitting on the floor, I grab my plate and follow her to the living room. Even though I'm exhausted from last night, we watch two movies: a comedy and an action flick. I don't think about last night, homework, my grades, Mel, or anything else and it feels good. Everything about this night feels good. Spending time with Mom and not the helpless woman from the night before. Not taking off her shoes like we sometimes have to do for my six-year-old sister with Downs Syndrome. It's...normal.

"It's late and you have school tomorrow. Sara gets back, too," Mom says when the last movie ends. "Why don't you go up and get ready for bed? I'll turn everything off down here."

I run up the stairs, realizing I'm still in my sweaty clothes from earlier. After washing up a little, I throw on some clean boxers and a pair of basketball shorts. Then I remember my stupid backpack downstairs and figure I should get a little bit done, even though my eyes are scratchy and it's already after midnight.

When I jog back downstairs, Mom jumps a little, almost running into me.

"Oh! Carter, you scared me. I thought you were already in bed."

"Just gotta grab something."

"Okay, I'm heading up."

She leans forward to kiss my cheek and I freeze as the smell of alcohol fills my nostrils. Insta-nausea hits me. My hands are tied behind my back again. Did she grab the bottle as soon as I headed upstairs? And two days in a row...this makes two days. She doesn't work this way. Not usually. Why the hell is she drinking two nights in a row?

"Good night, Carter."

Good? How does she expect me to have a good night? I had a good night and she took it away from me. But I don't say that. I can't.

"Night."

Ignoring the whisper of my English homework, I turn and go back upstairs.

Chapter Three

My muscles are all jumpy when I run downstairs early the next morning. I'm jonesing for basketball practice this afternoon, but I know if I don't get some kind of work done for English, Mrs. Z is going to bench me. I have to keep that from happening. What's the point, anyway? It's not like I won't make it in life if I can't fully explain the theme behind Of Mice and Men.

"Carter! Carter!" Sara slams into me as I hit the bottom step. She wraps her pale, stick-like arms around me and buries her face in my stomach.

"Hey, Twig." I give her mud-brown hair a light tug. "Did you have fun?" Even though we have different dads, we have the same dark, wavy hair.

Sara looks up at me through thick glasses, yells, "Barney!" as the music from that psycho purple dinosaur starts in the background, and then runs away. She's obsessed with the show. Gets way more excited about him than she does the rest of us. It's actually pretty cool to watch. I don't know if all kids with Down Syndrome get as giddy about things as she does, but I'm pretty sure I've never been as pumped about something as she gets with that dinosaur.

It's my favorite thing about her: the way the house could be crumbling around us but it would still be so easy to make her smile. Not sure if that's a trait, either, or if my sister just kicks ass.

"Morning. You're up early." Mom kisses my cheek. Bill, Sara's dad, is standing next to her.

"I need to get to school and get some stuff done." So I don't fail English. And get kicked out of basketball.

"Hey, Carter. Want to run out to the car with me? Sara forgot her bag and I need to run to work before I'm late." Bill wears round glasses just like Sara, only his aren't as thick. He's so different from my biological dad. At least, from what little I remember or can tell from pictures. Dad played basketball, too. He was young, but had a heart attack playing ball. Mom says he loved it like I do. All my games are for him.

And Bill—well, he's a cool guy, but he's more of a paper-pusher than Dad was. He and Mom got along okay, but I always wonder what they had in common.

"Yep. Right behind you." Mom hands me a Pop Tart and I push a bite into my mouth as I follow Bill out. He stops me after handing me the bag and my stomach drops. I know what's next. We go through this every few months.

"How she's doing, Carter? Still not drinking?"

Liar. I'm such a liar. It makes me nauseous. Guilty. "No... I told you I'd tell you if she started again. We're all good, Bill." My sister's big grin pops into my head. For the millionth time, I wonder if I'm doing and saying the right thing. But those thoughts are shoved aside when I think of Mom with Sara. Mom loves Sara—maybe more than she loves me because she doesn't drink when Sara's home. Ever. It used to kind of piss me off, but now I'm relieved. Maybe Mom knows I can deal with it. Sara couldn't.

"Good. You know I hate putting you in the middle of this, I just have to look out for you kids. I know she loves you, but..."

Protectiveness rolls over me. "But nothing, Bill. She wouldn't do anything that could hurt Sara. You know that." One time. He's seen her drunk one time and he thinks he knows her? He doesn't know anything. And she didn't even have Sara when it happened, either.

He pushes his glasses up and rubs his nose. "It's a disease, Carter. I know she wouldn't mean to do anything, but it's my job as Sara's dad to make sure. Is she still going to AA?"

"No! She wouldn't do anything to hurt my sister. No matter what." My gut clenches, when I think about what to say to his second question. The secret liar comes out of me again. "And yeah...she's going." Does it count as lying when you do it for a good reason? I have no doubt it would kill Mom and Sara to lose each other. I know I'm an outsider, looking in on them sometimes. Sara and Mom doing all the girl crap I have no interest in. How can I risk either of them losing that? That whatever-it-is mother/daughter bond they share?

Sara's in no danger when it comes to Mom.

Doesn't Bill know, even if it came down to that, I'd never let anything happen to Twig. If she drank with Sara home, I wouldn't let it slide.

"I worry about you too, Carter. It's not just Sara."

I nod because I know Bill cares in his own little way. He means well, but he still doesn't get my mom. I wonder if Dad did. If that's what made them so different. If that's what makes it so she can't get over him. That and the fact that he saved her from my asshole Grandfather. "I gotta go. Gonna take this in and then head to school."

Bill looks at me like he knows I'm trying to escape this conversation, but I go anyway. "See ya later."

With each step I walk away, my guilt shrinks. I'm sticking up for my family. It's the right thing to do. It has to be.

***

I struggle not to crush my coffee cup as I set it down. Instead, I flip the page in my English book like I'm supposed to, trying to figure out what it is I've been reading. It's a blur of names, places, and a whole lot of crap that feels like a waste of my time, but nothing jumps out at me. I don't even know what these people are supposed to be doing or what they're saying, so I shove the assignment in the book, and into my backpack it goes.

I already spent half the stupid morning at this coffee shop, trying to catch up, but I have crap to show for it. Math, I get. People actually use that stuff. But unless I plan on being the next Mrs. Z, which we can safely bet I don't, why does it matter if I can dissect every little thing in a book that I wouldn't even remember the name of if I didn't have to?

Half the morning has gone by and I'm no closer than I was last night. Fighting the urge to walk out, I pull some paper from my binder to start the two page essay I have to write. With the lure of practice calling to me, I have to get something done to pacify Mrs. Z.

Two and a half hours, two double shots, and a headache later, I shove the one and three quarter pages into my bag and bail. Lunch is almost over and skipping English would be a huge screw up on my part, no matter how much I want to. Remembering I need a note, I forge Mom's signature then head to the hell that is known as English.

Mel's standing by my locker when I get there, flicking her hair and giving me the evil eye. "About time you got here." Her arms are crossed in that pissed-off girl way.

"Sorry my mom will let me stay home once in a while and yours won't." It's times like these I feel bad for the lies because there really isn't a good reason not to tell her what I did. I'm not doing it to save Mom or to be there for Sara, but how lame is it to be failing English? To be that guy who pulls his hair out while trying to write a stupid paper? Not cool.

So I lean forward. Exit guilt, hello Melanie's lips. "Next time I'll bring you with me." Which we kind of need. She's right about the fact we won't see each other much once basketball and cheer start. I give her a quick kiss, which ends up being quicker than I planned because she pulls away.

"Yuck. Coffee breath."

My girl totally knows how to make a guy feel good about himself. Not.

"Take me instead. I don't care what your breath smells like." Travis steps up beside me, pretending to throw his arms around my neck, but stops at the last minute. We bump fists instead.

"I didn't mean... Whatever." Mel says and walks away.

Travis shakes his head. "Ever think life would be so much easier if we were single?"

I hold out my hand because his words deserve another bump. "For sure." It sucks, because things used to be so much easier with Mel. I needed that. Now, she spends half her pissed off at me, which means I spend half my time pissed off, too. But the alternative is a whole can of worms I flinch at the thought of opening.

"I think Mel and Trina get together every morning to decide if they want to be normal or psychotic. Today's definitely a psycho day. Thanks for leaving me alone with it."

I laugh as we round the corner into English. Mrs. Z's eyes are on me, burning a hole into my skull. I give her a quick nod, trying to convey that I got something done, though I'm not sure it's going to be enough for her.

Sliding my gaze away from her laser-beam glare, I spot Kira at her desk. Her braids are up in a knot-thing on her head, black and purple strands going in every different direction. Surprisingly, it doesn't look half bad. Weird, but not bad.

"I see you made it home safely yesterday," I say as I take my seat. "Didn't get accosted by any strangers?"

"None except for you." She's drawing little pictures on her notebook.

"Hey, you came up to me, not the other way around, remember?"

"Only because I was worried you were trying to kill yourself out there. I wanted to make sure you hadn't passed out. You know, in case I needed to call 911 or something."

Travis lingers at my side. He looks at me, then Kira, and at me again. "I'm feeling left out. Travis doesn't like to feel left out."

Kira laughs, making my gut tighten.

"I went to the court for a while yesterday and saw her." Thankfully, my excuse for why I was hanging around Kira just so happens to be the truth. Two points for Carter. Wait, why do I need an excuse?

"That's where you were? I was covering for you while Trina texted every five minutes because Mel kept texting her. I got to spend my whole afternoon hearing about how big a jerk you are and you got to play ball? Not cool."

"I'm a jerk?"

"Oh yeah. What kind of boyfriend doesn't text back? Poor Mel. She deserves so much better. Travis, if you ever treat me like that!"

I groan. "Sorry."

"Wow... What a terrible boyfriend you are." Kira smiles, so I think she's joking. I hope. But I'm starting to feel bad because we're bordering on talking crap about my girlfriend.

"I apologized to her; it was my fault. I did kind of bail on her."

The bell saves me from explaining further, and we all slide into our seats. As soon as Mrs. Z starts talking I zone out, thinking about Mom, Bill, Sara, Mel, basketball, English. My thoughts can't choose which one to concentrate on, until I make it pick Mel because she's the easiest. Things used to feel so easy with her, but the longer we go, the harder it gets. I need that easiness back which means I have to stop pulling stunts like I did yesterday. Though I'm still kind of lost on why it's such a huge deal to play ball without calling her, but whatever. I'll make it up to her. I'll do something with her after practice today.

Mrs. Z puts on a video about the relevance of classic British literature in current times, which gives me more time to think about things that aren't English. Before I know it, the bell rings and I’m sneaking my not-quite-two-page report onto her desk, and slipping out of class. The ache in my head tells me I wasn't as sneaky as I thought and laser eyes are x-raying my skull again, but at least I make it out without having to talk to her.

Kira sits across the room from me in art. We don't have assigned seats, so for some reason it annoys me a little. Not that I have a reason to be annoyed, but I am. Once the final bell rings, I forget all about her and everything else in my life as I head to the locker room. Might make me sound like a nutcase, but it's alive with electricity. Every guy on the team is excited for the season to start, making claims on which titles we'll get and how the whole conference will be owned by us.

"Do you even realize how much ass we're going to kick this year?" Jackson asks Travis and me.

"Hell yeah," I reply as we smack hands. This is my place. My element. Where I know I belong. Where I dominate.

Technically there are tryouts, but we all know who will play what. I'm the starting point guard. Even as a junior, I started for varsity. Freshmen and sophomore years I came off the bench, but always for varsity. I've never played JV in my life.

I love it. Scanning the court, reading my players, and coming up with the perfect play. Having control unlike I do in the rest of my life.

"Who do you think for backup center this year?" I ask Trav as we head to the gym.

He shrugs. "I don't need a backup. I'm a ninja. I can play the whole game, every game."

"Ha, ha. Seriously though. Chambers has the height. Hopefully he got a little more coordinated since last year."

Travis nods his approval, but doesn't reply. Coach Blake stands at the center of the gym looking as pumped as I feel.

"All right, Lancers! Whose year is this?"

"OURS!" We bounce on our feet, yelling so loud the voices vibrate through me, making me feel electric in a way I haven't felt in a long time. I love playing no matter what, but this is the start of the season. My senior year, and nothing can dim the lights shining down on it.

"Whose house is this?"

"OURS!" Another vibration. A few fists rise above us.

"And we won't only defend our house this season, but we'll what?"

"OWN THEIRS, TOO!" My heart bounces like a basketball against the gym floor.

"How do we do that?"

"WORK HARD!" The freshmen line the walls, gawking at us, like we're NBA players or something, making my adrenaline pump harder.

"That's what I like to hear! Get to the wall and everyone start doing their lines!"

In this moment, it's like everything else I have to deal with is worth it. I get this in return. I wonder if it felt this good for Dad. If he felt almost high every time he stepped on the court, even if it wasn't for a game.

All I know is this is my house. This is where I'm alive.

***

My hair is wet from showering when I walk out of the locker room after practice. Mel and I always meet each other in the parking lot, so I head straight there.

"You doing anything?" Travis asks. "Want to chill?"

"You're not going to be with Trina?"

"Nah." He shakes his head. They're usually together as much as Mel and I. I almost ask him about it, but he doesn't give me a chance. "She's busy, I guess, and I'm trying to avoid the parentals. They want to 'talk' and that's never good for me." Travis laughs.

"Oh. Sorry. Can't go. Going to try to make up with my girl. Take her out or something." I'm still feeling like a live wire. This is just what I needed to feel on track again, the distraction to make everything else disappear.

"Fine, I see how you are." Trav holds out his fist and I bump it. "I'm out. See ya later." He runs down the hall ahead of me, probably meeting up with the other guys or something.

When my feet hit the pavement, I stop for a minute, and Mel's voice floats toward me. She's standing in the parking lot talking to Devin. He graduated last year, but his sister, Sam, is in cheer with Mel. Since he picks up and drops off Sam sometimes for school, I guess he's doing it after practice, too.

"Shut up," Mel laughs, playfully pushing him. Devin crosses his arms and leans against his Mustang and says something I can't hear. My muscles tense. I know Mel. Know how she flirts because she used to do it with me.

Mel crosses her arms and pretends to pout. Devin steps closer like he's going to console my girl and she smiles. Yeah, so not going to happen.

"Mel!" I jog toward her. I nod my head at Devin as I step between them, hugging her. Is it me or is she not giving me the same death grip she usually does? Suddenly, not liking my back to Devin, I let go and face him.

"I'll see you later, Melanie," Devin says, ignoring me completely. And then he turns, walks around his car, gets in, and drives off.

Rigor mortis has now set into my limbs. My basketball high has been thoroughly killed. "What's up with that?" I'm really trying not to sound accusatory.

"Nothing." Mel pushes up on her toes and kisses me. She sounds normal. Happy to see me. Maybe I was freaking out for nothing. My muscles loosen again and I feel like an idiot. They were just talking. It's not like they haven't talked before, or like Devin doesn't have a reason to be here. Mel wouldn't do that. She's the one who always wants to be with me and I'm the one who's been more standoffish lately.

"How was practice?" I ask, still holding on to her waist.

"Awesome."

"Mine too. We—"

"Is Travis with Trina, do you know?"

Okay. So obviously we're not talking about my practice. "I don't think so. She's busy, I guess. He asked me to hang out and then took off when I said I wanted to see you."  These past couple days have been crazy for me. I really want to get back to normal. Mel is normal. "But whatever. Let's go somewhere. We can grab something to eat or whatever." I lean forward to kiss her again, but she stops me.

"I can't... I need to find Trina. We're supposed to hang out."

"Oh." I step away a little. "Can't you tell her I want to see you? I'm sure she'll get it... I know I've been kind of a dick lately and I want to make it up to you."

She's not really listening, her fingers moving over the screen on her phone. "I can't, Carter. Not today, 'kay? I don't wanna ditch Trina."

"Whatever." I take another step back, trying to show her it doesn't bother me, when really it does.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" With another quick kiss, Mel is jogging toward school again. I shove my hands into my pockets, leaning against her brand new VW Bug. What just happened? I mean, I get it. She wants to hang with her friend, but I ditched Trav for her.  She thinks I've been weird lately so I try to be sweet and do something nice, and she can't get away from me fast enough.

Whatever. I pull out my phone to text Travis.

CHANGE OF PLANS. WHERE ARE U?

Before I look like an idiot loitering around my girlfriend's car in the parking lot, I get into my truck. It's an older Ford. Not old old, but not brand new like my friends' cars. I wait a few minutes, and when he doesn't text back, I send him another.

WHERE U AT?

Ten minutes later I realize he's not going to reply. Lame.

With nothing else to do, I drive to Mom's shop, frustrated that my first day of practice ended with Mel flirting with someone else and then ditching me.

"Carter! Carter!" Sara yells when I step inside. She always says my name twice like that. It makes me smile.

"What's up, Twig? Are you helping Mom?"

She shakes her head. "Nope. Mommy's busy. There's a girl here."

"Thanks, Twig." I pull her ponytail then head down the aisle to find Mom and Mel. There are shelves of glass figurines all around me. Some of Mom's paintings hang from the walls. The lights are dim, but they're always kind of dim in here. The store is small, but usually keeps pretty busy. Everyone in town loves Mom.

When I clear the aisle, I freeze at the sight of black and purple braids.

"Hey, honey!" Mom waves when she sees me, and Kira turns around. For some reason, it's a little hard to breathe.

Kira's eyes widen, but she recovers quickly. "Hey, Sleepy. Are you stalking me?"