Lucky T (16 page)

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Authors: Kate Brian

BOOK: Lucky T
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Thankfully, when she saw the handwriting, she realized it was just a note from her mom. She exhaled a sigh of relief and continued on.

Dear Carrie, I hope you've settled in at your new place! Thought I'd send you a few things to make it feel more like home. You'll see I've included a coupon book for McDonald's because I'm sure there's one of them tucked away someplace secret. (Actually, I did my research and there's not one anywhere near you. Ha!) Also, Piper dropped by to see you when she got back from camp and she almost died when she heard where you were. She insisted I included this note from her. She seemed really sad that you weren't here, Carrie. I hope you two can work out whatever is wrong between you.

Piper is a sweet, sweet girl and you have been friends far too long to let it all go now.

Okay, enough of the parental lecture. I miss you THIS MUCH! Can't wait to have my baby girl home again.

Love ya!

Mom P.S. DO NOT OPEN THE PRESENT UNTIL YOUR BIRTHDAY! And don't think I won't know if you do it early. Mothers always know.

Carrie felt tears prickling at her eyes. She missed her mother so much she could practically smel her Lilac perfume. And sure enough, with a second dig through the box Carrie found a coupon book entitling her to free fries and ninety-nine-cent Big Macs. Her mother must be lonely and slightly off her rocker to actually encourage her daughter to binge on not just fast food, but foreign fast food.

How could I have thought that being without my lucky T for my birthday would be worse than being without my mom? Carrie wondered, her heart so heavy it was weighing her down. What's wrong with me?

Shoving the booklet back down underneath the other contraband, Carrie took a deep breath. She was not going to sit here and regret her decision.

She refused to wall ow. Especially when there was nothing she could do about it. Instead she turned to the second envelope and tore it open. She had no idea what to expect, but whatever was in Piper's letter, it couldn't make her feel worse than she already did.

Dear Carrie, INDIA!? What, are you kidding me? I know you're mad, but c'mon, did you have to go all the way to another country to keep avoiding me? I came over to your house all nauseous and nervous and ready for another big blowout fight scene and your mother tell s me I've gotta wait another few weeks. But I couldn't. So I'm just going to tell you here how I feel.

I miss you sooooo much, Carrie. I know I've said this before, but I never meant to hurt your feelings. Al I was doing that night was hanging out with The Prego Posse (it's what my brother's group of friends are calling themselves these days--can you believe it? They say the name was inspired by the Sopranos, but all it really does is make me think of spaghetti). I was as shocked as anyone when Jason walked in. You've got to believe that when I talked to you, all I really wanted to do was to help you feel better. Clearly I must take some remedial courses in Consoling Your Friend because now I see where I failed you. I should've been more sensitive and left for your place as soon as I knew what happened. I should've been supporting you when you were feeling low, but instead I was careless, which just made things worse.

But you've gotta know that if anyone ever kidnapped me and said I had to choose Jason over you or else they'd kil me I would choose you, even if it meant disembowelment or some other grisly, torture-filled death! You're my BEST friend and my platonic other half. Remember when we were eight and we used to play Power Rangers? I let you be the pink one EVERY TIME, that's how much I loved you then, and I still love you now. Besides, chica, when it comes down to it we're really fighting over a GUY! A smelly, egotistical, maxim-reading STEAK HEAD! We made a pact never to do this, and somehow here we are...

I hope you can realize that I was just trying to make the best of a crappy situation and that I'm so sorry for hurting you.

PLEASE write me back and/or call me as soon as you get home. I will not start my junior year with us not talking. I REFUSE!

Take care of yourself, and I really hope you find that special shirt of yours.

Always, Piper P.S. If it makes you feel any better, Jason went camping with Doug and got a major case of poison ivy on his butt after going to the bathroom and wiping with the wrong type of leaves. Of course, Doug forgot the tp along with the tent poles, but that's a whole other story altogether.

Carrie laughed so loud and hard that she began to cry. Huge splats of water hit the page and blurred the words REFUSE and Always. It was amazing how Piper could bring her so much happiness in the strangest of circumstances. Carrie felt SO badly for not talking to her friend for weeks and then shutting her out on the last day of school. She was lucky that the girl even wanted to speak to her again. She wished Piper were there right then so she could just hug her and make everything that happened go away. And before she could really do anything to stop it, Carrie was sobbing uncontrol ably.

Care package! Carrie thought, tossing the whole thing aside as she tried to get control of her crying. This might as wel have been a pipe bomb. It would have hurt a hel of a lot less. A severe, dul ache traveled throughout her body, then set up camp in the pit of her stomach. It was the same feeling she got when she first realized that her lucky T was gone. Today was the first day she had truly felt lucky without it, and now that feeling was lost too.

"I have to get out of here," she said, standing up with conviction. She folded up the notes and replaced them in the box, then shoved it all under her bed. She would open it again in the morning when she wouldn't feel quite so raw. But for now she just had to take a break from all the emotions those letters had stirred up.

Carrie tiptoed out, closed her door quietly, and headed for the basketball court, wondering if somewhere, all the people she loved were missing her as much as she missed them.

Lights from the buildings around the CCS yard cast a dim glow over the court, just enough for Carrie to see the ball in front of her and her white New Balance sneakers down below. She dribbled a few times, hoping the noise wouldn't rouse anyone from inside, and shot. Obviously her focus was off. The ball slammed against the backboard and ricocheted back at her, almost taking her nose with it.

Physical activity had always helped Carrie clear her head, but on this warm, clear night--the least humid she had experienced in India yet--it just wasn't working. Carrie walked over to the basketball , sat down on top of it, and put her head in her hands. What the hel was she doing so far from home? What had she been thinking, chasing her T-shirt all the way here? Why was she always making such rash decisions and flying off the handle so much?

"Are you all right?"

Carrie jumped up at the sound of Dee's voice and wiped her hands under her eyes. The basketball rolled and bumped across the court until he stopped it with his foot. Carrie watched him looking her over, hoping that it was dark enough out so he wouldn't see her reddened eyes and tearstained cheeks.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice cracking, indicating otherwise. "I was just. . . thinking."

"About what?" Dee asked, grabbing up the ball and walking slowly toward her.

Carrie's breath caught in her throat at the sight of Dee out here in the shadows with nobody else around. His gorgeous face, which she could see more and more clearly as he approached, seemed to be wracked with concern. Carrie noticed how his plain white T-shirt showed off his perfect shoulders and arms. She noticed the big hands again as he palmed the ball and how succulent his mouth was. . . .

Oh God, Carrie thought. I'm in lurve. This was a phrase she and Piper made up last year when Carrie was trying to describe how she felt about Jason.

"Lurve" was definitely bigger than liking a boy but somewhat shy of loving that boy. And now that she had another guy to compare her feelings to, Carrie was convinced that she didn't "lurve" Jason at all . "Lurve" was how she was feeling about Dee, even though they had only just met.

It was his passionate personality that had caused him to shout at her on the first day they set eyes on each other. Carrie knew what that was like.

Watching Dee for the last few days, she realized that he had only exploded because he really cared about CCS and the kids that lived there, which was just so cool. None of the guys Carrie knew from home cared about anything other than food, sports, and Lindsay Lohan's boobs.

"What is it?" Dee asked. He had this sultry deepness to his voice that Carrie just wanted to record and listen to on her iPod player for all eternity. "Are you homesick?"

She was so homesick, there were times she had actually thought of fashioning some sort of raft that would take her to safety a la Tom Hanks in Castaway. Suddenly Carrie wanted nothing more than to feel Dee wrap his arms around her and hold her close to him for the rest of the night. But instead she took a small , protective step back. Dee probably had a line of hot, brainiac English chippies waiting for him back at Cambridge. Even if he didn't, did they really have a future? There was that little problem of him living on a whole other continent.

But he's here now, a little voice in her head told her, sending a thril of excitement through every nerve ending in her body. Carrie smiled slightly. Her emotions were so all over the place she was scared she was going to have to check herself into India's equivalent of the nuthouse.

"Yeah, I miss home a lot," she said finally, thinking of her mom making some healthy but weird concoction in a blender, Piper pretending to be a waffle in acting class, and her dad catapulting across the sky somewhere.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Carrie gazed into his eyes once more. Oh God, it's definitely lurve.

"To be honest, if I talk about it, I think it might make it worse," she replied.

"I know exactly what you mean," Dee said. "I was a mess the first time I left home. But it's going to get better, trust me."

If by "trust" you mean "marry," Carrie thought, I am all over that.

"You know, when I was feeling this way, I tried to do something distracting to get my mind off my troubles," he said.

Like making out under a waterfal ? Carrie wondered.

"Do you play just for fun or professional y?" he joked, popping the ball out of his hands and spinning it on the tip of his pointer finger.

"You're looking at the only sophomore on the varsity team at my high school," Carrie said.

"Well, wel . You up for a little one-on-one?"

"Absolutely," Carrie said. Already the sadness was starting to become a dul memory. "But I should warn you, I play like a girl."

Dee smiled. "Let's make it interesting, then."

"What did you have in mind?" Carrie asked, tilting her head flirtatiously.

Dee reclaimed the ball and dribbled a few times from hand to hand, moving between Carrie and the net. "If you win, I will help you look for your T-shirt tomorrow."

"Real y?" Carrie said, practically jumping at the thought of having a little help. "And if you win?"

"If I win, you let me show you my Calcutta," Dee replied. "The places I really love."

Nothing like a win-win situation to put a smile on Carrie's face. "Bring it on," she said, bending at the waist.

"We play to eleven, one point per basket," he told her, tossing the ball to her.

She tossed it back. "Prepare for a butt kicking."

Dee dribbled the ball , faked left, and then went right around Carrie. She made a lame attempt at trying to block him, letting him think it was her best move. He executed a little spin, throwing in a bit of fancy footwork, and hit a layup over her head. Carrie jumped and swatted at the ball with her hand, but she knew she was too late to block it. It sailed through the hoop and dropped to the ground.

"Yes! That's one-nothing," Dee cheered, throwing his hands in the air.

"Nice one," Carrie said.

"There's a lot more where that came from," he replied, grinning.

Carrie tried not to burst out into a giggle fit. He was so gul ible. Didn't he realize she was just feeling him out? Trying to get a bead on his best stuff so she would know how to attack? Dee was in for the shock of his life.

"This game is going to be a cake walk," he chided her, moving his weight from side to side like he was stretching out his thighs.

Carrie was about to prove him right because she was close to fainting from the mere sound of him trash talking. Stil , she couldn't wait to wipe that cocky expression off his face.

"Ready?" she asked, bouncing the ball to him.

"I'm always ready," he replied, bouncing it back.

Carrie dribbled to the right, took it up a few steps, then stood right in front of him and shot a perfect three- pointer right over his head. It slapped onto the ground and bounced off into the darkness. Dee's face actually fell.

"What was that?" he asked.

"That, my friend, is called a buzz kil ," she replied with sugary sweetness. "Your ball ."

Dee grinned mischievously and Carrie laughed, tipping her head back toward the sky. This was the most fun she'd had since her lucky T went MIA.

The rest of the game was serious, fast, and sweat inducing. But all the running, dribbling, and shooting didn't give Carrie half the cardio workout Dee's proximity did. Each time he brushed by her to make a shot, touching skin to skin, her pulse went into overdrive. When he got up right behind her to try to smack the ball away, practically every inch of his body making contact with hers, she had to stop herself from melting into a puddle of goop.

"Take it out," Dee said, bouncing the ball back to her after hitting a fadeaway that made it ten-six in Carrie's favor.

She dribbled to half-court while Dee walked over, stood in front of her, and lifted up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. Carrie practically salivated at the sight of his perfect six-pack abs.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. Okay, get a grip. You have game point here.

She tried to dribble past him, but Dee faked her out and snagged the ball , shooting an easy layup.

"Yes!" he cheered, throwing his fists in the air.

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