Freeing Carter (25 page)

I
'
m in too much awe to respond to her dig.
"
I saw you less than twenty-four hours ago and you now have your nose pierced and new hair.
"

She shrugs.
"
In my defense
,
it
'
s the same hair
,
just a different style.
"

I can
'
t stop looking at her. The orange is so close to gone
,
now it just looks like light brown mixed in her dark hair. It
'
s all shiny and longer than I realized it was before. It
'
s kind of crazy because she
'
s dressed like I would be on a day chillin
'
at home: blue Nike sweats and a white sweatshirt. I
'
m pretty sure Mel never would have gone out of her house dressed like Kira is now
,
but I like it. Maybe a little too much so I lean against the counter.

"
How do you do it?
"
I hadn
'
t planned on asking
,
but the question came out anyway. I
'
ve never known anyone like her. And I like her even though honestly
,
I
'
m not even 100% sure who she is.

"
Oh
,
I didn
'
t know you were considering a career in hairstyle. First I applied what
'
s called a relaxer
—
"

"
You know what I mean.
"

"
Actually
,
I don
'
t. What
'
s up with you though? You look like Grumpy Carter
,
not Happy Carter. Don
'
t tell me you
'
re upset about Melanie.
"

"
Argh.
"
I rub a hand over my face.
"
No
,
I wish that
'
s all I had to worry about.
"

She leans over the counter
,
her face not too far from mine.
"
And you would? Worry? That
'
s why I said not to reply last night. It
'
s obvious you still have feelings for her. Which I get
,
I guess
,
though I
'
m pretty sure she didn
'
t deserve them.
"

"
No
.
It
has nothing to do with her. It
'
s just
..."
My mom is a drunk
.
Wow
.
A drunk? I
'
ve never thought about her that way before. Grandpa is a drunk
,
not Mom. Is she? She drinks. She passes out
,
but she
'
s not mean and she doesn
'
t drink all the time. I
'
m not really sure if that makes a difference though.

"
It
'
s just what
,
Carter Shaw? What are your secrets?
"
She cocks her head to the left
,
studying me
,
like if she looks hard enough
,
she
'
ll get the answers she wants. There
'
s a part of me that wishes she could find them out. That she could see everything that
'
s inside of me so someone else would know without my having to say it. That she could read and understand me more easily than I understand the stupid Shakespeare stories Mrs. Z wants me to decipher.

But then I realize there
'
s no way I could be that
bear
with her. With anyone. Not even myself.

"
Sorry to disappoint you
,
but no secrets here.
"
The bell over the door rings
,
saving me.

"
Sure.
"
Kira plops down
on
the table and as much as I want to set her straight
,
to ask her what her sure means
,
I don
'
t.

"
How can I help you?
"
I ask the middle-aged woman.

After ten minutes helping the customer
,
it
'
s only the two of us again. She
'
s picking at her fingernails and it
'
s then I realize that even though girls are different from each other
,
they
'
re the same too. It
'
s totally something Mel would have done—trying to look distracted
,
as if the last conversation we had isn
'
t still stuck in her head.

"
You started that English assignment?
"
Awesome job
,
Shaw.
Leave it to me to bring up one of the things I want to talk about the least. I really
,
really don
'
t want to write an in depth paper on the meaning of a stupid Shakespeare play
,
or sonnet and how it relates to something in my own life. I have so much trouble understanding my own life that I
'
m not sure I can compare something I don
'
t get to it.

"
Of course
,"
she says.
"
Almost finished. Didn
'
t I ever tell you I
'
m a genius?
"

"
Huh?
"

"
Okay
,
maybe not really
,
but yep
,
I
'
m a geek. I
'
ve never gotten anything below an A in my life and don
'
t plan to start now.
"

I stare at her.

"
Shocked?
"

I don
'
t know why I am. It
'
s not as if she struck me as someone who
'
s stupid
,
but I can
'
t really match up a braniac with the girl who dyes her hair orange or dances on tables or who plays basketball in someone else
'
s shoes. Nothing about her fits into any mold I
'
ve ever seen.

"
Whatever.
"
I
'
m aware that I
'
m pouting
,
but not sure why.
"
I probably won
'
t do it. It
'
s stupid anyway.
"
The words always take me more time to understand
,
but when I feel like this? Like I
'
m drowning in my own life? Those are the times I just want to walk away from it.

"
Yes
,
you will. If not for anything else
,
but for basketball.
"

"
Whatever
,"
I mumble again before I start packing up one of the shelves of knickknacks. Mom always keeps a
"
to do
"
list at the store and she wants these replaced with something else.

Kira sighs and then I hear her get off the table and walk over to me.
"
Coach
...
you need some help? I
'
m here. If
need me for
anything.
"

She
'
s so not talking about work
,
but I
'
m going to pretend I don
'
t know that. I
'
m good at pretending.
"
Sure. There
'
s a box in the back labeled Forest Friends.
"
Which is probably the stupidest thing I
'
ve ever heard
,
but that
'
s beside the point.
"
Want to grab it for me?
"

She smirks
,
obviously not believing me
,
but she replies with
,
"
Sure.
"

I get everything packed up and she
'
s still not back. Figuring she couldn
'
t find it
,
I head to the stock room to check on her. Kira fumbles when she hears me
,
whipping around and shoving something behind her back
,
but it
'
s too late. God
,
it
'
s too late in more than one way
,
but for now I can only focus on the fact that I saw it. That I know what she has in her hands. Which she somehow knows I won
'
t want to see.

It
'
s like voices start battling inside my head. Mine making excuses
,
Mom
'
s making promises
,
Bill
'
s making threats. They
'
re all fighting
,
yelling to top each other so much that I feel like my head could explode. Then Sara
'
s voice creeps through. Her cries when she has nightmares. Her laughs when she plays games with Mom.

I want to cry. I actually want to fucking cry. My hands itch to play ball. My feet itch to run. My head itches to block out the voices and to disappear inside itself.

I can’t believe it. Or I don’t want to
. There has to be another excuse for a half empty bottle of liquor to be in my mom
'
s stock room. At her
work.
Her
store.
Oh
,
God
,
how can she be drinking at work?

No matter how much I search for an excuse for the bottle to be there
,
there
'
s none
,
but the truth.

"
It
'
s mine
,"
I blurt out.
"
I forgot it was there. I hid it when my mom came in.
"

Kira
'
s hand drops to the side so she
'
s holding it next to her. I fight the urge
not to rip it out of her hand,
break it
and smash
it over and over
,
like that will somehow change things. When she drinks Vodka
,
I used to dump out half the bottles and add water
,
hoping it would lessen the affect. Nothing ever worked. She always had more. Breaking this one won
'
t do a damn thing either.

"
It
'
s yours?
"
She eyes me
,
not flinching the way I want to.

"
It
'
s mine.
"
I hear her chanting
Liar liar pants on fire
in my head.

She opens her mouth like she
'
s going to say something
,
then closes it again. Shaking her head
,
she walks up to me
,
shoving the bottle into my chest so I
'
m forced to grab onto it.