Lucky T (5 page)

He opened his hands and then curled them into fists and pressed them together. "It's just . . . we've been together a year, you know?"

"It's our anniversary," Carrie replied.

"Well, that's the thing," he said. "There's this party over at Doug's--al the guys are there watching basketball right now. I mean, it's the finals. And I have to do this anniversary thing--"

"Have to?" Carrie blurted, her heart palpitating out of control. "I thought you-wanted to be with me, not that you had to."

"I do ... I mean ... I just . . . This is all coming out wrong," Jason said, looking at her with a pleading expression.

Carrie stared back at him. What did he want her to do, make it easier for him to break up with her? Well, that wasn't going to happen. For a few moments the only sounds were the splatters of raindrops as they battered the car.

"Look," Jason said, searching for the right words. "I just want to be able to hang out with my friends. It's not that I don't like you, it's just--"

"You don't like me enough," Carrie said as she felt tears wel up in her eyes again. She blinked them back angrily. She'd thought she was all cried out, but that was back when she had believed she was going out with her cute-as-hel boyfriend to have an incredible time and get her mind off The Day It Al Changed to Crap, Part I. But the reality was clear. She was experiencing her first breakup and her first horrible moment after the loss of her lucky T. If only Piper were here. She'd finally be able to convince her best friend of the simple truth: life with lucky T = good; life without lucky T = bad.

"Carrie, I feel terrible about this," Jason said when he noticed the tears.

The tender tone of his voice was pushing Carrie over the edge into an alternate universe her mom liked to call The Temper Zone. Ever since she was little, she had the tendency to fly off the handle when things weren't going her way, and Carrie had a feeling that was going to be happening a lot more often now. Even so, she tried really hard to be graceful under pressure.

"Well, Jason, you certainly know how to show a girl a good time," Carrie said snidely. "Woo-hoo! Happy anniversary!"

She fumbled her way out of the car and slammed the door behind her. She raced back up to the house, taking the many rain-slicked steps two at a time. She couldn't believe this was happening. Everyone always said they were the perfect couple. That's exactly how Carrie saw her and Jason too. She was secretly hoping that they had something that would last forever or at least until their first year of college. How could he dump her on their anniversary?

Did Jason have an iceberg for a heart or what?

"Carrie!" Jason shouted behind her, causing her heart to leap. Maybe he'd realized he made a mistake. Maybe he was coming after her. Carrie turned around under the awning and saw him leaning over the passenger side seat, peering out the opened window so he could face her.

"Yeah?" she said loudly.

"So, we're broken up, right?" he asked.

"What?!" she yelled, not quite able to believe what she'd just heard.

"I mean, I just want to be clear," he said. "We're not together anymore."

She wanted to hurl something at him. Something big and very, very heavy. She was now entering . . . The Temper Zone.

Carrie took long strides back toward Jason and his precious Jeep that always smelled of Barbecue Lays, which at one point she really liked, but now the thought of it made her sick. The rain was pummeling her, yet Carrie didn't care how soaked she got. She and Jason were going to have words, all right. She was about to tell him everything that was on her mind and it wasn't going to be pretty. She was going to tell him that after he worked out and he took off his sneakers, the odor was so nasty it had killed every plant in her room. She was going to recommend that he invest in Proactiv because chronic back acne is not exactly a bonus. She was seconds away from revealing that she would have waved him on to third base if he didn't royally suck in the making-out department, which wasn't really true, but who cared? Carrie wanted to hit below the belt and make Jason feel as horrible as she did.

But when she approached his side of the window, all riled up and ready to rip, Jason's car pulled away and drove through a large collection of puddles down the street, then around the corner until he was out of sight.

There was nothing else Carrie could do but walk inside.

Carrie sneaked upstairs, avoiding her mom, who was watching TV in the living room. She only felt like talking with one person right now, and that was Piper. Carrie went into her bedroom, and the first thing she did before grabbing a big towel was dig out her cell from her purse and dial Piper's number.

As she listened to the phone ring, Carrie's thoughts kept going back to Jason. God, what was wrong with him? True, he wasn't a genius, and he never really had anything important to say except for, "Man, The Matrix rules." But they had lots of fun together, and Carrie thought she was safe with Jason. She had hoped that he was going to stick around for a long time, unlike the other major male figure in her life. She thought she was about to learn all these interesting things about him, but when he finally opened up, it was to push her away. Carrie's world was crumbling before her very eyes, and just then she wanted to speak with Piper even more than she wanted her lucky T back.

The line rang four times and the voice mail picked up. She could feel a steady stream of tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. Carrie sniffled hard and left a message.

"P, it's me. I really need to talk. You're never going to believe what Jason did. Cal me back as soon as you get this."

Then she hung up the phone, lay facedown on her bed, pulled the comforter over her cold, shivering body, and sobbed as much as she did the morning her parents sat her down and said, "Mommy and Daddy aren't going to live together anymore."

When her cell phone rang an hour later, Carrie snapped out of her emotional-exhaustion-induced slumber and lunged for it.

"Hel o?"

"Carrie, I just heard. Are you okay?" Piper asked.

"I am so not okay," Carrie replied, relieved beyond belief to be talking with Piper. She sat up straight on her bed for the first time since she'd walked back into the house. "Let's just say Jason Miller is total scum."

There was a sudden loud and raucous cheer on the other end of the line and Carrie held the phone away from her ear.

"Where the heck are you?" she asked Piper.

Fumbling noises were followed by the sound of a door closing. A couple of muffled whispers and for a moment everything was silent.

"I told you earlier, remember? My brother is throwing this NBA party. Everyone is over here watching the Blazers game," Piper said.

There was a thud inside Carrie's chest like she'd never felt before. "Wait a minute, is Jason there?"

Piper sighed. "Yeah, he is. And he told me what happened. He--"

"So you didn't even listen to my message?" Carrie asked, swal owing hard.

"Well, I didn't hear the phone, Carrie. It's kind of noisy in here. Fifteen guys. Lots of testosterone. You know how it is."

Carrie was on her feet now, pacing back and forth next to her bed. She clutched the phone for dear life. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. How long has he been there?"

"I don't know . . . half an hour, maybe?" Piper said.

He broke up with me and went straight to the party, Carrie thought, half seething, half drowning in humiliation. He's hanging out with my best friend while I sit here alone crying my eyes dry.

"So when did you decide it was right to call me? During the halftime show or when Doug and his friends went out to recruit bums to buy beer for them at the Shop-N-Go?" Carrie asked mockingly.

The betrayal was almost too much to handle. Piper was supposed to be there for her in times like this. But instead she had missed her call for help because she was watching basketball with the very guy who had broken her heart.

"Listen, I know you're really pissed off," Piper said, trying to console her. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"It sounds like you already know what happened," Carrie said flatly.

"Carrie, obviously I didn't know he was coming," Piper said. "I thought you guys were going to be out all night."

Carrie's heart ached even more, thinking about the romantic night she should have had. "Yeah, so did I."

"Look, Carrie, I know it's hard right now, but it's gonna be okay," Piper said. "Sometimes people just grow apart."

Carrie wrapped her free arm around herself and held on tight. "Is that what he told you?"

"Yeah. And he feels really bad about the whole thing. He actually said he hoped you guys could still be friends."

This was unbelievable. Piper was pleading Jason's case! She was supposed to listen to Carrie's story and be appalled and righteously indignant and was supposed to vow never to talk to Jason again for the rest of her life. But instead Jason had gotten to her first and told her some watered-down version of the story, which for some reason Piper believed without hearing Carrie's point of view. This was so out of whack and hurtful to Carrie that she couldn't help but visit The Zone again.

"This is complete BS," Carrie snapped. "I can't believe you're taking his side."

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Piper said.

"Yes, you are!" Carrie shouted. "I thought we were best friends, Piper. I thought I could count on you. But on the night my boyfriend call ously dumps me, you're telling me I should still be his friend? He's probably sitting there watching you talk to me."

The silence on the other end of the line said it all .

"Oh my God! He is! He's sitting right there!" Carrie cried. The very thought of Jason listening in their conversation, watching Piper for signs of how things were going, made Carrie want to hurl. She had never felt so wronged.

"Carrie, you guys are both my friends," Piper said. "I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry, but--"

"I'm sorry too, Piper," Carrie interrupted. "Sorry that I trusted you."

She turned off the phone without all owing Piper to explain herself or make any more excuses. Then, hands trembling, she turned around and ripped the cord of her landline out of the wall. Afterward she burst into another crying fit that she assumed would last for days.

Three weeks later Carrie rubbed her rabbit's foot under the table in biology class as Mr. Dumas handed back the final exams. She had bought the trinket the day after losing her T, hoping to get some of her luck back, but so far it hadn't done much but be fuzzy and hang off her key chain. Today her stomach was tied in dozens of tight little knots. She had a bad feeling about this.

On the morning of the test not one but two black cats had run right by her as she locked up her bike in front of the school. That really did not bode wel , especially with her lucky T on a whole other continent and the fabric of her life viciously unraveling yard by yard. Not even a rabbit's foot could combat that.

The last three weeks had been long, miserable, and lonely. Carrie had avoided Piper as much as possible at school, changed lunch tables, and given her the cold shoulder until Piper finally stopped trying to talk to her. Jason hadn't even bothered to try, which fueled her anger and kept her from mourning him too much. Stil , every day was a struggle. Carrie had to concentrate to remember the new routes to class that would help her avoid both Piper and Jason. She had to keep her eyes peeled in the hal ways so that she could spot them first and avoid eye contact. It was exhausting to the point that she hadn't been sleeping wel or able to concentrate on studying.

But there was hope on the horizon. By this time next week the school year would be over. Then she wouldn't even have to get up in the morning. A depressing fact, but true nonetheless.

Mr. Dumas placed Marni Markenson's test on the table in front of her. Carrie sneaked a peek. Marni had gotten a B+. If Marni had pulled off a B+, that meant Carrie had to have gotten at least a--

D?

Carrie stared down at the paper that had just been dropped in front of her. There were red marks everywhere. It was as if Mr. Dumas's main heart artery had hemorrhaged while he was grading her test. The D had been circled and underlined and had arrows pointing to it, apparently indicating that her work was beyond dismall and disappointing and other negative adjectives beginning with the fourth letter in the alphabet. Carrie was absolutely shocked. She had never gotten a D in her life!

"See me after class," Mr. Dumas said before walking away.

Carrie slumped in her seat, tossing the rabbit's foot and her attached keys into her backpack in disgust. She should have known this would happen.

The lucky T was shining its light somewhere else, and obviously the straight-A Carrie Fitzgerald was history.

That afternoon Carrie walked into her room loaded down with books for the extra-credit project Dumas had strongly suggested that she complete to bring up her grade. Immediately Carrie sensed that something was wrong--again. Then she saw it. The tiny, yel ow, motionless body of Fido, her beloved fish, was lying on the floor in front of his aquarium. Carrie rushed over and dropped to her knees, but it was too late. Fido had jumped from his bowl. He had committed fish suicide.

"Carrie!" her mother called up the stairs. "I bought Fido some more fish food. Come down and get it."

Carrie let out an apathetic sigh, got up, and carried Fido into the bathroom. She wrapped him up in toilet paper and placed him in the bowl. Feeling numb, she stood back to say a few words.

"I'm sorry, Fido. If I had taken better care of my lucky T, none of this would have happened."

She reached for the flusher, then cringed and closed the bowl lid before sending him off to his watery grave. Carrie had walked back into her bedroom, feeling more alone than ever, when suddenly her cell phone began vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the caller ID.

It read: Dear Ol' Dad.

Even through her misery, Carrie's heart executed a little backflip, just as it did whenever her dad called. In fact, she was a bit more excited than usual.