Shattered Castles 1 : Castles on the Sand (9 page)

“Thanks. Bye.” He says it like it's hard to say, like he's worried he'll never see me again.

Annoying as he's been, I walk with him to Jacksons, where Carson looks up at us from the gas pump and nods. “Hey, Madison.”

My brother looks back and forth between us.

“Hi Carson. Bye John.”

“Bye. Hey, listen. It's a miracle that I found you.”

That's nice, I think.

“But then again, our God is a God of miracles.”

Yeah, that's what I was afraid of, that he'd get all preachy. I give him one last hug, which he seems to truly appreciate, and then head for home before he can say anything else.

T
hat evening Mom comes in with a preoccupied air. She washes her hands in the kitchen sink, which she never does because the clay can wreak havoc on the plumbing.

“So,” I begin, “I'm sorry that I sent John to find you. He was asking all these questions and-”

Mom reaches into the cupboard and pulls out a small box, which she tosses onto the table. Condoms. “You bring boys in at night, you use those. I don't need another mouth to feed around here.”

I stare down at the box, unsure what to say for a moment.

“And don't ever send your brother around to bother me again. He's dead to me. I don't need him criticizing how I live my life.”

“What did he do? Preach?”

“He didn't like me buying those. Said that having overnight guests set a bad example for you. So I told him they were for you-”

“You told him you bought these for me?”

“Mhm.”

“Was this during the really loud fight outside Jacksons?” My cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“No. It was before that part. But you will use those and not get pregnant. We clear?”

“Mom, I am not ready for anything like that.”

“I was eighteen when I had my first baby, so don't give me some silly excuse about not being ready.”

“I didn't mean-”

“I'm gonna hit the hay.” She walks off as if she hasn't even heard me and goes to her room.

I go back into my room and put the box of condoms in my desk drawer, then wonder if I should have one on me at all times, as random as that sounds. It's what they tell us to do in health class. Knowing me, though, I'd pull something else out of my pocket and it'd go flying and probably hit some cute guy in the forehead. Best to just leave them where they are.

A
couple of hours later, a tap on my window wakes me up. No, I think, not now. Whoever it is, I don't want to see them.

“Madison?” It isn't Kailie's voice, or Jean-Pierre's. I glance at my clock and see that it's only ten thirty.

“Who is it?” I say.

“It's Carson.”

I
get to my knees, pull the curtain aside, and flip the window latch. Carson stands in the rock garden, his hands in the pockets of his khakis, looking like a total preppie, which he is, I guess. Our school is well funded enough to be almost like a prep school. “How’s your nose?” he asks.

“It hurts,” I say.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

I touch my face, gingerly, then fold my arms.

“John told me the gist of what happened. Maybe it's time to get a new best friend?”

“You don't know the whole story.”

“Nobody deserves what you got. Did you report her to the police?”

“What? No.”

“You should think about it.”

“Sure. I'll think about it.” There's no way I'm reporting my best friend to the police. I look past Carson to the street.

He glances over his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah. I thought, you know, bringing the MAV woulda been kinda excessive.”

“You call it the MAV?”

“Yeah. Doesn't everyone?”

“You live clear down at the other end of town.”

“My family all go to bed at eight.” At my baffled stare, he adds, “Because, you know, we have Seminary in the mornings.”

“Seminary?”

“Yeah, religion class before school. That's why all of us LDS students arrive in the MAV... what, did you think we just did that to be... um...” He stares at me.

“Weird?”

“Yeah, which we are. But not in a hive mind, we go everywhere together kind of way.”

“How does your family run a restaurant if you go to bed at eight?”

“Well, okay, our parents manage the restaurant and get home at about one and our grandmother watches us but she's deaf as a post.” He shrugs. “So I have until one before I get caught. Anyway... what are you doing?”

I'm across the room now and turn to look at him again, a pair of jeans and a clean shirt draped over my arm. “Just let me change. I'll come out.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Please. You walked, like, three miles to get here.” And, I think, I'm not inviting you in. That would be extra weird. I go into the bathroom, switch clothes and then return to my room to put on my jacket and climb out the window.

He looks at me, then down at himself. “So... what do people normally do when they sneak out?”

“Usually they wait until later.”

“Right.”

“And then we get deep fried burritos at The Shack.”

“Is that, like, a ritual? It has to be later?”

“Well, midnight is when Hernan takes over.”

“So? They run the deep fryer all day. That's how they do their chimichangas. Let's go.”

“I'm pretty sure Beatriz and Ernesto aren't gonna let us deep fry EVOL Burritos in their fryer,” I say as I tag along after him.

“You ever asked them?”

“Okay,
you
can ask them. I'm not gonna risk the wrath of Beatriz. She's got that powdered habanero or whatever it is that can sting your eyes across the room.”

He looks sidelong at me, not the least bit convinced. “You want me to get the burritos from Jacksons or-”

“Yeah, that's where I go.”

“But, do you want to be seen there? If your mom finds out-”

“I do this all the time. My mom doesn't care. Your parents might, so you stay outside.” We're nearing the corner of Wilkstone Road now.

“No, I'll go.” He seems determined, which is odd to me. Not sure why he cares so much about burritos, but we make our way past the gas pumps and into Jacksons together. Carson knows which freezer case to go to and insists on paying.

Our next stop is The Shack, where I hang back because I really don't want Beatriz to throw habanero powder in my face. Much to my shock, Carson returns several minutes later with a greasy paper bag and a triumphant grin.

“How?”

“You just ask,” he says.

“Maybe
you
do.” I follow him across Wilkstone and out onto the Ridge Road. He makes straight for the bluffs and seems to know where he's going. We end up on a rocky outcropping that overlooks the sea, three lights along the horizon are a fishing fleet coming straight towards shore. I sit down on a boulder beside him and he hands me my burrito. The air has a salty tang and the breeze is light.

“So, anyway,” he says, “I just wanted to see how you are.”

With a gesture at my swollen nose, I say, “And now you've seen.” I bite into my burrito and pain shoots across my face. I can't jar my nose at all without feeling it, and the tortilla is so crunchy that I feel jabs every time I chew. It's bearable, though.

“Totally none of my business, but you and Jean-Pierre? Is that real or was it just part of Kailie's prank?”

“What's wrong with Jean-Pierre?”

“I don't like him. He's arrogant.”

I remind myself that Carson is also in chess club and is not a nationally ranked superstar. It makes sense that he'd be jealous. “He was always nice to me.”

Carson stares out at the pitch black sea. The breeze picks up a little, bringing with it the scent of salt, rotting seaweed, and wet stone. “I've got this nightmare about you.”

“A nightmare?”

“Four years from now, I get home from my mission and you're living in a trailer park somewhere with a couple of kids.”

How to answer such a strange comment? I stall by taking another bite of burrito and chewing, slowly.

“I just imagine everyone in your life taking and taking because you've got it to give,” he adds.

“Jean-Pierre doesn't have a whole lot of trailer parks in his future. He'll probably be a junior at Harvard in four years.”

“Sure.”

“And as for me, I'm not sure I'll even get asked out on a date in the next four years.” I pause so he can laugh.

He doesn't. Instead he says, “You have got the lowest self confidence, you know that? That's why I worry about you.”

That sounds an awful lot like condescension. “You don't have to worry about me.”

“You're pretty. And you're nice. Lots of guys like you.”

Sitting on a boulder with no makeup on and wearing my most comfortable jeans, I feel pudgy and frumpy.

“But you have the worst taste in friends. Are you finally going to stop hanging around with Kailie?”

“No.”

“What's it gonna take, then?”

“You don't know her or her situation, and I really don't need your advice. I can take care of myself.”

“What could possibly justify you getting kicked in the face?”

The truth is, I know Kailie's felt this banged up and worse, emotionally, but she bottles it up inside. People only see the carefree front she puts up. They don't see how every chance she takes in her life backfires, whether it's her relationships with guys or her attempts to win more freedom from her parents. They don't see the constant cloud of disappointment that hangs over her head. This isn't something I'm going to share with Carson, though. “If I want to be nice to someone who's having a rough time, that's my prerogative. I don't need your permission.”

“Normally I'm all for turning the other cheek, but when it gives you two black eyes, maybe its time for a new strategy?”

“Did you really drag me out here to tell me what to do?”

He looks down at me. “I don't get you. I'm trying to be nice. You let Kailie push you around without complaint, but when I just offer a little advice-”

“I barely know you.”

“Sorry you feel that way.” His tone is defensive. Wounded.

Which tells me I'm missing something.

He looks down at his hands, clasping his half eaten burrito. “I really,
really
like you.”

When I don't say anything, he picks a flake of tortilla off his khakis and says. “I have forever, all right? I'd treat you a whole lot better than Jean-Pierre ever would. How did you even get into a situation where you'd get to know him? I mean, you two aren't exactly in the same social circle.”

“It's a small town.”

“Yeah, that's true. I guess I just feel like I'm a million miles away from getting to know you.”

“Do you even date people outside your religion?”

“What makes you think I date at all?”

“Well, you go to all the school dances.”

“With Wendy, LaDell, or Rachel, sure. They're friends. Wendy and Rachel's mom doesn't even want her daughters to steady date while in high school. I mean, thank you, for thinking I have a love life, but I don't.” He shifts his weight, his khakis scraping softly against the rough surface of the boulder.

I look at his profile as he eats more burrito. Kailie calls him hot, and she's not wrong. He is very attractive with a chiseled jaw and those eyes that catch your attention whenever they turn your direction, even across a crowded room. I've never thought about him in a romantic way. Now I wonder if that's because I'm not interested or I always thought he was off limits and never even considered it.

“I sense I have not made you swoon,” he says.

“Well... I'm not big on being bossed around.”

“Noted. Sorry.”

“And you're right. We barely know each other.”

“Yeah, how is that? I remember when you lost your first tooth.”

“On the playground.”

“And you cried because you couldn't find it for the tooth fairy.”

“Sure, and I remember when you accidentally dented Mr. Kim's car, when you were swinging your backpack around as fast as you could and you let go of it-”

“I'd forgotten that.”

“Oh. Sorry to remind you.”

He laughs. “It's all right. We know all about each other, I'd bet, but you're right. We don't actually know each other. How do we change that?”

“Talk, I guess. Have conversations.”

“I'd like to do that more often. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd totally be fine to kiss you right now, but if you want to get to know each other, I'm cool with that.”

“Yeah...” I try to think of a diplomatic way to tell him that I'm not sure the kissing thing will ever happen, but already, it's too late. My awkward silence tells him everything.

“Eh, it's all right,” he says. “I know what's really going on here.”

“What's that?”

“You'd have so much trouble controlling your physical attraction to me that you'd put my covenants in danger, and it's sweet of you to not just think of yourself and how badly you want my body.”

“Right. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble. And I wouldn't want to damage your clothes by tearing them.”

That catches him off guard and he laughs out loud, then bites his fist, his ribs shaking with mirth. “You are too kind.”