Freeing Carter (4 page)

My backpack sits under the hoop on the far end of the court. Each time I run that way
,
see it sitting there with the work I know I should be doing
,
I push harder
,
run harder. My cell is going crazy
,
ringing and beeping every two seconds. But instead of answering
,
I jump
,
letting the ball roll off my fingertips just right. It arcs in the air
,
hitting nothing but the bottom of the net.

Five more minutes. Then I
'
ll go over to Mel
'
s to apologize
,
then head home to bust my ass learning Hamlet and reading books that will have no
effect
on
my life whatsoever.

My muscles are tight
,
Mrs. Z
'
s words from today slamming into me.

Mom
'
s apology from last night
taunts
me.

Instead of grabbing the ball
,
I start running lines. From one side of the court
,
to the free throw line
,
and back. Three point line and back. Half court
,
and then owning the other side too. By the time I
'
m done
,
my lungs ache
,
but in a good way. My way. Not giving a shit that I
'
m in the middle of a public basketball court
,
at a park
,
I collapse on the ground
,
one arm covering my eyes.

T
he warm pavement feels good against my back
,
seeping through my shirt. There
'
s a part of me that
'
s screaming at my muscles to move
,
to make myself get up and do all the stuff that I don
'
t want to do
,
but nothing happens.

My phone goes off again. Mel
'
s going to kill me. I need to talk to her. It
'
s not her fault I was in a bad mood today. Not her fault I stayed up all night then took it out on her. In a way
,
she
'
s like basketball for me. An escape. Maybe a much moodier escape
,
but one all the same.

As soon as I make the decision to get up and go see her
,
I hear a voice. 
"
Second time in one day I could have kicked you. You sleep a lot.
"

My arm drops. Kira is standing above me
,
the setting sun peeking out from behind her.
"
I didn
'
t fall asleep in art
,
" I say. "That has to count for something.
"
She
'
d been in my art class this afternoon too.
"
And I
'
m not sleeping now. Just resting.
"
I stand up.

"
Yeah
,
you were in the zone out there.
"

"
Practice starts tomorrow. Just getting ready.
"
I look around to see if anyone else is watching that I didn
'
t know about. We
'
re both quiet for a few seconds.
I'm not
sure what to say to this girl I don
'
t know
,
I lift my arm to scratch my head instead of talking.

"
Is the team any good? At my old school they sucked pretty bad. It was embarrassing.
"

This
is something I can talk about.
"
We
'
re the best. Probably take the conference this year
,
at least. It won
'
t be embarrassing to cheer us on.
"

She laughs
,
and I wonder what I said that
'
s so funny.
"
I
'
m not the rah-rah kind of girl.
"

I take a step back
,
my eyes darting to the ground. Words lost to me. It takes me a minute
,
and then I wonder what I
'
m doing
. Why am I
letting myself
clam up
like I
'
ve never talked to a girl before
?
Raising my head
,
my eyes find hers.
"
That
'
s because you
'
ve never had me to cheer for.
"
I wink at her
,
playing the game.

"
No!
"
she shakes her head
,
laughing. It
'
s a real laugh. Not one of those fake
I-want-your-attention laughs.
"
Don
'
t do that. Bring back the guy who was so into the game. The one who obviously loves what he
'
s doing and actually cares about something. Don
'
t be a stereotypical
,
cocky teenage boy.
"

My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again
,
but nothing comes out. The urge to scratch my head again comes back
,
but I don
'
t let myself do it. Who is this girl? I
'
ve talked to her for a total of like 2.2 seconds my whole life
,
and she talks to me like we
'
re long lost buddies or something.  Am I slipping? No. Just lost step a bit.
"
I
'
m allowed to be cocky because I
'
m good. I can back it up. You
'
ll see once you watch me play.
"

For the millionth time my phone goes off. Mel
,
she
'
s who I need to see right now. I
'
ll get lost in her
,
make up for being a jerk earlier
,
and then get down to the folder in my backpack that I don
'
t want to see.
"
That
'
s my girlfriend. I better go. You need a ride anywhere?
"
The words just come out
,
but I regret them afterward. Mel will kick my ass if I
let this girl in my car
. Drama is the last thing I need.

Luckily for me
,
Kira shakes her head.
"
Nope. It
'
s a gorgeous day for a walk. Plus
,
I don
'
t take rides from strangers.
"
She winks and walks away, leaving me behind to wonder what just happened.

***

"
I
'
m sorry.
"
The words jump out of my mouth the second Mel opens the door.
"
I was being a jerk earlier. I just
...
I had a really bad night
,
but I shouldn
'
t have taken it out on you.
"
This is something I don
'
t like admitting
,
even to myself
,
but there
'
s a piece
of me screaming to break free that wants her to ask me what happened. To ask why I had a bad night so I can tell her. Actually speak the freaking words that are bottled up inside me like a shaken up coke can. Once the top is popped
,
I
'
m scared it will all burst out
,
spilling over and making my life sticky—more of a mess than it already is.

But that would mean
needing
her. Showing her I
'
m not the guy she thinks I am. Not an option for me. Probably not an option for her
,
either
,
so even if she does wonder
,
I know I can
'
t tell her. Even if I could do it to myself
,
I couldn
'
t do it to Mom.

She looks at her nails
,
studying them in mock-nonchalance.
"
You
'
re right
,
you shouldn
'
t have. Basketball starts soon
.
Cheerleading,
too
,
and on top of it all
,
you work. We
'
ll never see each other and when we do
,
I don
'
t want to spend that time fighting with you.
"

I step forward. My voice drops a little.
"
I know
,
baby
.
I said I
'
m sorry. Forgive me?
"
I wrap my arms around her neck. When she nods against my chest
,
I let out a heavy breath. I need this
...
the dose of
normal
Mel gives me. Or
,
at least
,
to pretend or make myself forget Mom
,
forget the homework.

She
lifts her face
,
giving me permission to
kiss her
. The second our lips touch it takes me
away and
makes me forget the sound of Mom
'
s voice when she said she was sorry. The look on her face when I wrapped my arm around her to help her up the stairs. Behind the bloodshot eyes
,
I saw her—the real her that hates herself for what she does.

Forget that I
can
lose basketball. The only thing that means as much to me as Mom or Sara.

Trying to push those thoughts away
,
I deepen the kiss. Mel
'
s hand weaves through my hair before she pulls away
,
kicking the door shut behind her and leading me to her living room couch.

An hour and a whole lot of making out later
,
I come up for air.
"
I should go
,"
I tell her.
"
I have a ton of homework to do. Gotta keep my grades up for basketball.
"
Keep them up
,
not pull them up
,
because Mel doesn
'
t know how badly I
'
m flunking English.

"
No.
"
She kisses me again.
"
For one second
,
forget basketball.
"
Another kiss.
"
Homework can wait. I
'
m more important.
Let
'
s go upstairs.
"

It
'
s me who kisses her this time. I know I shouldn
'
t
,
but I do exactly what she says.

***

I don
'
t get home until 8:45. My backpack still taunts me
,
whispering that I should have come home earlier. There
'
s so much work to do
in English alone that I
'
ll never get caught up if I don
'
t start now.

Mom
'
s blue Toyota sits in the driveway. She can
'
t have been home for very long since the shop closes at eight. Still
,
nervous energy skitters through my veins. Adrenaline
,
but not the good kind that makes me feel like I can fly on the court. More like the one that overdoses me until I feel like puking. Or having a heart attack. Or both. No matter how much I know she
'
s not an everyday drinker
,
or how much I know an episode like last night usually buys me some time before it happens again
,
I still think about it every day. Always wondering which version of Mom I
'
m coming home to.