Freeing Carter (3 page)

"
Why do I care? I
'
m your
girlfriend
,
Carter. I
'
m just looking out for you.
"
She rolls her eyes.

In her own way
,
I kind of think she is. Still
...
I also know Mel looks out for herself more than anyone else and she doesn
'
t want to be
known as the girl
with the boyfriend who
'
s never around.

I stand up.
"
Whatever. Just don
'
t bring her into it. She doesn
'
t
make
me work. I do it because I want to.
"

Travis stands up
,
too.
"
All right
,
All right. Simmer down
,
you two.
"
He pats me on the chest.
"
Shaw didn
'
t get his beauty rest last night so he
'
s a grump. Mel
,
kiss him and make it better or something. You guys are seriously screwing with my chill right now.
"

As soon as he finishes
,
the bell rings. Mel
rises
to her feet
,
Trina right behind her
,
before saying
,
"
Whatever
,"
and walking away.

"
Uuuugh. Thanks
,
bro. Now I
'
m going to have to hear it from Trina
,
too. Don
'
t you know if Mel is mad at you
,
Trina is mad at me
by
default?
This is what happens
when I have your back. Now I
'
m going to have to kiss T and make it better
...
oh
,
wait. Why am I complaining? Makin
'
up is fun.
"

Travis laughs
,
making me laugh too.
"
You
'
re such a douche
,"
I tell him.

"
Aww
,
I think that
'
s the nicest thing you
'
ve ever said to me.
"
He pretends to wipe his eyes while we
head
back into school.

I'm dragging
my feet because I really don
'
t want to go to English today. Actually
,
I don
'
t want to go to English any day
,
but especially today.
"
You ready for practice tomorrow?
"
I ask.

"
Yep. Senior year. We
'
re going to own it.
"
We own every year
,
but he
'
s right. This one is going to be the best. Electricity zaps through me at the thought of getting on the court again. Hearing the crowd scream for us. Knowing it
'
s the one thing that
'
s mine. There
'
s nothing like it.

"
Coach said he
'
s heard talk of scouts coming to check us out.
"

"
Obviously
,
we
'
re the shit.
"

We laugh and slip into class right before the bell rings. I take my seat in the back corner of the room behind Travis. Sinking into the chair
,
I fit myself so I
'
m right behind him as though it will somehow make me invisible.

"
New girl
,
twelve o
'
clock
,"
Travis mutters.

It
'
s more like one o
'
clock
,
but
who’s counting?
There
'
s a girl standing by the door wearing some long
hippie
-looking skirt and a pair of combat boots. She
'
s kind of exotic looking
,
with light brown skin and tons of thin
,
long black braids with purple tinting
here and there
. She
'
s thin
,
but curvy in all the places girls should have curves.

Cute. Not the most gorgeous girl in the world
,
but definitely cute.

She hands a sheet of paper to Mrs. Z
,
who skims over it briefly.
"
Class
,
this is Kira. Kira
,
this is the class.
"
Mrs. Z smirks. She
'
s cool. Too bad she teaches
,
English
,
the worst class in history.

"
You can sit in the back. Take the empty desk next to Carter
,
the
guy with the messy brown hair.
"
She points to me.
"
You might have to give him a kick once in a while because Mr. Shaw likes to fall asleep in my class
,
but other than that
,
he
'
s okay.
"

Kira smiles before walking back and falling into the seat beside me.

"
Don
'
t worry
,
I don
'
t kick too hard
,"
she whispers at me.

Looking to the side
,
I smirk.
"
I fight back.
"

"
Okay
,
then I
do
kick hard. That way you can
'
t get up.
"

A laugh kind of tumbles out of my mouth. Her words surprise me.
"
I
'
ll remember that.
"

"
Good idea.
"

Mrs. Z starts talking and I slide back down into my seat. I miss half of what she says
,
trying to keep from falling asleep. I don
'
t know how they expect anyone to stay awake through Shakespeare during normal circumstances
,
but I
'
m
functioning
on about an hour and a half of sleep here.

All sorts of stupid Shakespearian names start blurring together. Crap about symbolism and metaphors no one really understands anyway. My struggle to keep my eyes pried open gets harder and harder until the bell ringing jerks me awake and I realize I lost the battle.

Kira is standing up
,
pulling on her lime green backpack. All sorts of different pictures are drawn
on
it with marker.

"
You didn
'
t kick
,"
pops out of my mouth.

She shrugs.
"
Figured I
'
d give you a pass. I
'
ve heard it
'
s not nice to kick people on your first day.
"

Travis slips up next to me.
"
Hey. I
'
m Travis. Welcome and all that stuff. Sorry
,
but I gotta steal my boy before I go crazy because his girlfriend won
'
t stop blowing up my phone.
"

I fight a groan.

"
Actually
,
I
'
m going to steal
'
your boy
',"
Mrs. Z
'
s voice sounds from beside us. This time
,
I really can
'
t hold it in. Just what I
don
'
t
need right now. Travis nudges my arm and laughs. Kira is right behind him as they sneak out of class. Me? I
'
m trying to slow down my jack
-
hammering heart.

"
So
...
basketball starts tomorrow?
"
Mrs. Z
sits on my desk.

"
Yep. Senior year. Have to make it count so I can get into a good college next year.
"
College is a good thing to throw into a conversation like this
,
right? Suck up a little.

"
Good grades will do that too
,
Mr. Shaw. You
'
re not doing so well in my class. Missing assignments.
"

My heart pounds harder.
Don
'
t do this. Please don
'
t fucking do this.
"
I
'
ll get my grade up. Extra credit. Whatever it takes.
"

She sighs.
"
Carter
,
is there anything you want to tell me? I can help. If I can
'
t
,
I
'
ll find someone who can. You
'
re a smart boy.
There's nothing wrong if you don't underst--"

My hands tighten into a fist.
"
It
'
s fine. Everything
'
s fine. I don
'
t need help. I
'
ll fix it. Whatever I have to do
,
I
'
ll fix it.
"
My voice sounds as tight as my fists are. I
can
'
t
lose basketball. Can
'
t.

"
You
need
to fix it because if you don
'
t
,
I can
'
t let you play. I know how much you love basketball and I
'
ve seen you on the court. I know how good you are
,
but there are more important things. One of them being your education.
"

A breath finds its way from my lungs. No questions. No lies.
"
I know. I
'
ve been screwing around
,
but I won
'
t anymore.
"

She gives me a quick nod and holds a folder out to me.
"
It
'
s early in the year so it shouldn
'
t be hard for you to get on track.
I shouldn't...but I'll let you make up your missed assignments
. If you do that and keep track of what we
'
re working on now
,
you
'
ll be okay.
"

I take the folder. No
,
things are never okay. Not for long.

I let Mom cover at the shop tonight. With the way I feel about basketball and everything else
,
there
'
s no way I can be there
,
helping little old ladies pick their favorite candle scent
or a book on poetry. Sometimes I wonder
if Mom
wants
to be there
because
she knows it will
be
easier if she
'
s working late and not at home where it
'
s easy to grab the vodka she keeps hidden in a box
,
under my old baby blankets in her closet. Is that a sign
,
I wonder? If there
'
s some way I
'
ve driven her to this place in her life—where she wants to forget everything so instead of grabbing a basketball
,
like I do
,
she chooses to get lost in a bottle.