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Authors: Christina Daley

BOOK: Radiant
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"News?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Is it going to be fixed?"

"Oh.
No. My…dad…said it was totaled." The way he said "dad" just then seemed like it was a foreign word to him.

"Your parents are back in town?" Mary asked. At the hospital, Mr. Romero had said they were out of the country.

Carter nodded. Again, deliberately. "They came when they heard what happened."

Mary was glad for that.
She could only imagine what a wreck Mom would have been if she were on the other side of the world and something had happened to Mary. Then, she realized what he had said, and she felt even more miserable. Cars weren't cheap, and she knew that his red sportster was a big loss. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" he asked.

"Your car," she said.

"
It was just a car."

Did he say it was
just
a car? Sophomore year, Carter went ballistic when Katie Peterson accidentally nicked his back bumper with her Jeep. Mary normally ignored other people's drama, but Carter wouldn't shut up about it for days, and he only became remotely human again when it was fixed. But now that his precious ride was beyond repair, he didn't seem to care at all.

He
looked at the sketchbook in her hands. "What is that?"

"
Oh," she said, coming back to the present. "Just some sketches. I was going to the computer lab to look something up."

"
I see," he said. "May I accompany you?"

"
Huh?" she asked.

"
To the computer lab," he said. "If you do not mind."

She did, actually.
But she didn't want to be ungrateful anymore, so she said, "Sure. I don't mind."

He
didn't speak as they walked. Or, she walked and he lunged.

Mary
cleared her throat lightly. "So, Carter."

"
Yes?"

"
You got back to school kinda quick. Doesn't that seem a little rushed?"

"
I wanted to come," he said. "Back. I chose to come back."

"
Really?"

"
My…dad…spoke with a specialist," he said. "He suggested to not change my routines. That it may help with my recov—
oof
!" One of Carter's lunges turned into a trip, and he fell forward.

"Carter!" Mary grabbed his arm to
help him up. He felt pretty warm through his black sweater. "Are you all right?"

"I am, tha
nk you," he said as he stood up again. "I am learning how to walk and talk at the same time. Again."

"I see," Mary said.
"Well, take it easy. We don't have to walk fast. Are you sure its okay for you to be at school?"

"
Yes."

She waited for
him to explain more, but he didn't. They were quiet for a bit, since Mary didn't want him to trip and fall again. But the silence was also starting to make things more awkward, so she asked, "So, um, how's Laci doing?"

"Who?"

"Your girlfriend," she said.

"
Oh." He looked as if he was trying to remember who she was. Like when he said "dad" earlier. "She is well."

"
Have you been out since you left the hospital?" she asked.

He cocked his head to the side.
"
Out
?"

"
Yeah. You know. Out on a date?" she asked.

"
Oh," he said again. "A date. No. I have not been out on a date."

"
I see," she said.

"
And you?" he asked. "Have you been out on a date?"

"
Huh?"

"Have you
been out on a date?" he repeated.

"
Oh, no. I heard you the first time." What an odd question, she thought. "I don't date. I don't have a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend," he
pondered aloud. "Like Laci is my…girlfriend."

This wa
s getting weirder.

"
Why do you not have a boyfriend?" he asked

"
I just don't, you know?" she said. "Some people date, and I don't."

"What do you do?" he asked.

"Like in my free time?" she asked. "I don't know. I paint, I guess."

"
Is painting the same as dating?" he asked.

What the
heck? Mary looked to see if he was messing with her. But he seemed like he genuinely didn't know the difference between the two.

"
No. But I prefer it," she said.

"
Why?"

"
I just do."

"
But why?"

She
blurted out, "Because paints and brushes don't have expectations of you."

He was silent.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said it like that."

"
It is all right."

They were both quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "I wanna ask you something now."

"
Okay."

"
Why are you talking to me?"

"
Is there a reason I should not?"

This answering her questions with more questions
thing was starting to get on her nerves. "Several, as a matter of fact," she said.

"
Like what?" he asked.

"
Well," she said sarcastically, "you've never spoken to me other than to insult me."

He lo
oked at her, surprised. "I have
insulted
you?"

Apparently, he
forgot about the time he called her a "damn chink." During freshman year once, they were in the lunch line together and she accidentally spilled apple juice on his Jordans. He should've known better anyway, that wearing non-school shoes might mean they would get messed up or confiscated by a teacher. Anyway, he hadn't even enough sense to use the correct derogatory for her. After that, she started bringing lunch from home and eating in the Art room.

But
she answered, "You just haven't talked to me much before."

He looked like he w
as trying to remember something. At last, he said, "I apologize that I insulted you. There is no excuse for that. Will you forgive me?"

Mary stared at him
. She wasn't expecting an apology, and she didn't really know how to respond.

"
You do not have to answer if you do not want to," he said.

Good, she thought.
Then, she stopped walking.

He stopped lunging.
"Is there something wrong?"

"
Not really," she said. "But people say you've been different since you came back. I can see what they mean."

His half-smile disappeared.
"You can?"

She nodded.
"You're polite. It's weird."

"
Polite is weird?"

She shook her head.
"No, no. It's not. It's just weird for you. You always seemed kinda rude before."

"
Oh," he said. "Would you prefer that I were rude?"

"
No!" she said quickly. "That's not what I meant. Polite is good. I like polite."

He smiled
again. "I like polite, too."

Glad that's established, she thought.
They finally arrived at the computer lab, and Mary found the picture she wanted on NASA's website. When Carter asked what she was doing, she told him about her plans for a Saturn painting.

"
You like the celestial bodies?" he asked.

"
The what?"

"
The celestial bodies," he repeated. "Things in space. Like stars, moons, and planets."

"
Oh, yeah," she said. "That's pretty much all I paint when I'm not working on something for school."

"
Why?"

She shrugged.
"I think they're pretty. I like looking at the sky. Especially at night."

"
The Earth is more interesting to look at," he said.

"
Why do you say that?" she asked.

"
It is where all the life is," he said.

Mary waited for him to
explain further, but he didn't. Instead, he asked, "May I see your painting when you have finished it?"

She hesitated. Mary hardly showed anyone her unfinished work.
She hardly showed her finished work, for that matter. But she still felt like she owed him despite him saying that she didn't. "Okay," she said. "It'll be a few days though."

The bell rang, marking the end of the lunch period.

Carter stood. "I will look forward to it."

Back to Table of Contents

 

- 7 -

Fake

Mary bumbled her way through English
class. It was her worst subject. She took forever to read a book and took even longer to write an essay. Even at her best, she managed average grades, and average grades in a prep school meant you sucked. Her class was currently reading through some book about an Italian guy who went through the levels of hell. Appropriately, the teacher's name was Ms. Heck, and the class was starting to feel a bit like one of those levels until the blessed bell finally rang. Mary gathered her stuff and went to Physics, her final class of the day. She found a surprise when she got there.

Abandoning his usual seat in the back with his buddies,
Carter sat on the front row in the desk next to hers. That seat was normally empty, and Mary liked to put her book bag on it.

"
Hello," he greeted when she sat down.

She lowered he
r voice to a whisper. "What're you doing here?"

He looked at her curiously. "I am here for
class."

"No, I mean what are you doing in that desk?"
she asked. "Don't you normally sit in the back?"

Carter
glanced at the back row. His friends shot back some icy glares.

He looked at her again.
"I will move if that is what you want me to do."

The bell rang.

Mary sighed and put her bag on the floor. "No, forget about it."

Mrs. Stanton began the lesson.
Mary took some notes, but after scrawling down a few lines, she stole a subtle glance in Carter's direction. He was still looking at her.

Mary made a
silent gesture with her hands. "What?"

Carter didn't
seem to understand what she was saying. He made a similar gesture.

Mary stared at him. Sh
e made the "what" gesture again just as Mrs. Stanton turned from the board.

"
Miss Phan," she said.

Mary cringed. "Yes ma'am?
"

"Is there something that you and Mr. Maxwell would like to share with the rest of us?" she asked.

Several people giggled, and Mary felt herself turn beet red. "No ma'am."

Mrs. Stanton
looked at Carter. "Where's your stuff?"

He wrinkled his brow. "My stuff?"

"Yes, your stuff," she repeated. "Where are your notes and textbook?"

"Oh," he said. "I do not have those items with me."

"Where are they?"

"I do not know." He said.
"But I will search for them if you wish."

More giggles.

"That'd be nice, but it doesn't do you any good here now," she said. "Miss Phan, please share your book."

Great, Mary thought. Not only did Carter take her book bag's spot
and get her in trouble, she had to share her book with him, too. She was starting to get irritated.

"Thank you," Carter said. "But that is not necessary."

Mrs. Stanton peered over the top of her confetti-colored glasses. "Is that so? Have you read through and memorized your whole textbook then?"

"No ma'am," he said. "Not all of it. But parts
of it. It contains several errors."

Mary looked back and forth between C
arter and the teacher. What was going on?

"Like what?" Mrs. Stanton asked.

"In the beginning," he said, "the authors wrote that the universe is made of three dimensions—space, time, and matter. With matter being mass over energy."

"And?" she
said.

"
The writers did not account for the other dimensions," he said.

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