by Sandy Hall
Paisley smirks at me.
“That’s the best you could do?”
“It’s a classic for a reason,” Paisley says. “And I’m sure there’s more where that came from.”
Her ominous warning leaves me tiptoeing around work for the rest of our shift and the next couple of days.
I need to be ready with some kind of mutually assured destruction. I just don’t know what that looks like in this case.
A whoopee cushion isn’t exactly that big of a deal, but there were plenty of people wandering through the fitness center at that moment and I’m sure I blushed beet red.
I feel an escalation coming on. I won’t even use the hand sanitizer at the desk for fear that she’s put something in it.
Maybe I should put something in the hand sanitizer at the desk.
I check the work schedule. We’re on again together on Wednesday. I’ll be ready.
-PAISLEY-
It’s cold and dark tonight on the walk to the dining hall for dinner. I guess that makes sense; it is almost the end of October.
Stef shoves her hands deeper into the pockets of her fleece.
“So what’s up with Carter these days?” she asks.
I laugh a little maniacally. “I have him right where I want him. He’s so nervous, just waiting for me to plan out my revenge plans. I put a whoopee cushion on his chair this morning, and when he sat on it, he turned, like, so red.”
“Oh yeah?” Stef asks, smirking a little.
“I’ve been trying to think of a way to get back at him and Ray together, but I haven’t come up with anything.”
“Paisley, you know I love you, right?”
“Sure, but that kind of sentence is never followed by anything good.”
She rolls her eyes. “You say you hate Carter over and over again, but you obviously enjoy his attention. You’re really enjoying this prank war, which seems to be like an excuse to, I don’t know, think about him and talk about him and spend time with him.”
I deflate a little. I was worried someone might notice that. I’m not surprised it was Stef. “Yes. I know.”
“No argument?”
“I can sense my own hypocrisy on this topic, and I just don’t have anything solid to debate with you.”
“Wow. I feel like you’re really growing as a person.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s the next step then? Do you have a plan for a prank that doesn’t involve Ray?”
“I’ve been thinking about something class related?”
She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “That might not be the best idea. You don’t want to mess around with his grades or anything.”
“I mess around with his job,” I point out.
“Well, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t be doing that either.”
“Maybe.”
“I feel like getting him fired or him getting in trouble in class wouldn’t be very good for your own karma.”
I nod. “It’s like, I know you’re right. But I don’t want you to be right.”
“I understand.”
“What’s up with Melissa?” I ask as we enter the dining hall.
“I got to hang out with her and her boyfriend at practice today. We were running drills and ended up all in the same group. PDA should be illegal during swim practice. Talk about ugh,” Stef says.
“So nothing good for either of us then?” I say.
She shakes her head. “Seems that way.”
We join the end of the snaking dinner line.
“We need to remember to come earlier,” I say.
“For real,” she agrees.
“At least it’s pasta night.”
“At least,” Stef says.
“When’s the next time you see Carter?” Stef asks as we find a table.
“Is today Tuesday?”
“Yes.”
“Then tomorrow.”
“Hmm. It’d be good to come up with something between now and then.”
I nod. But I don’t know what.
When I get to work the next morning, Carter is already there, setting everything up. Which is all well and good, seeing as how half the time I get there long before he does, but it’s still a little disconcerting.
“Hey,” I say, taking a seat at the desk.
“Hey,” he says.
The morning goes pretty quietly. Around eight o’clock, Jordan comes in. “I just had to wash so much bird crap off my car.”
She grabs for the hand sanitizer on the desk and pumps a ton of it into her palm, placing the bottle back on the desk and working it through her fingers.
Carter looks up and his face goes white. “No!” he shouts.
“What?” Jordan asks.
She looks at her hands.
They’re bright blue.
“What the hell?” she asks, grabbing several tissues and trying to wipe off the coloring.
“I might have put food dye in the hand sanitizer. But it wasn’t meant for you! It was meant for Paisley,” he says sheepishly.
Jordan shakes her head. “You two have got to stop whatever is going on here. I can tell there have been a lot of games being played at this desk. I’ve turned a blind eye because it hadn’t affected your work or anyone else. But now”—she pauses and holds up her hands—“now it’s turned my hands blue, and I have a presentation to make today for a grant proposal and I look like a Smurf.”
“Sorry, Jordan,” we say in unison.
“Paisley, I hope you learn something from this. I can’t exactly punish you for something Carter did, but you’re on thin ice. And, Carter, come see me in my office.”
-CARTER-
After work and class, I decided that what I really needed was a nap. Especially since my head was pounding. Probably from the fact that I got in trouble at work. Another strike on my record doesn’t look great for me. I can’t lose this job. I need the money.
I go down to the vending machine and get a Coke, knowing the sugar and caffeine can only help at this point. Especially since I have so much work to do. Except that I’m starving.
I pick up my phone to text Ray to ask him to bring me back a burger and fries from the student center, and I see a text from Thea.
Thea: I’m taking Mom to the hospital. She can’t keep anything down.
Suddenly I feel like I can’t keep anything down. I almost want to spit out the sip of soda I just took. I swallow hard around the lump that grew in my throat while reading the text.
Carter: I’m on my way.
Thea: No, you’re not.
Carter: Yes. I am. You can’t stop me.
Thea doesn’t respond to that, which only makes me want to get home even faster.
Carter: I gotta go home. My mom is in the hospital. It’s an emergency.
Ray: I hope everything is all right. Let me know if you need anything.
I want to say something back to him, but I don’t even know what that would be at the moment. My brain is whirling a mile a minute.
I throw whatever I can think of into my backpack before I head toward the train station off campus. I hop on the next train and sit for the long hour. I open my calc textbook and stare at the numbers. Nothing seems to be penetrating my brain, but it’s better than thinking too much about my mom.
It’s the kind of night where it’s not raining but the air is so wet that I end up looking like a drowned rat by the time I get to the hospital.
My mom has been admitted for the night, and a nurse directs me where to go. Thea is in the room when I get there.
“I told you not to come,” Thea says when she sees me.
“As long as Dad’s not here, it’s the only place I want to be.”
Thea huffs out an exaggerated sigh. “We’ll talk about that later,” she says.
I walk over to Mom and kiss her cheek. “I’m fine,” she says. “You shouldn’t be here. You have more important things to do.”
She’s not wearing a wig or a scarf, and her hair has grown back in uneven peach-fuzz tufts.
I gesture toward it. “This is a good look for you.”
“Oh, Carter,” she says with an eye roll.
I feel so much better just being here. There’s so much relief in seeing my mom, even if she is sitting up in a hospital bed attached to an IV.
“You really didn’t have to come,” Thea says. “I have it under control.”
“I had to.”
“You really didn’t,” my mom says. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Suddenly everything that was wrong with this day, this week, this past month doesn’t matter. Everything is okay if my mom is okay.
Thea settles into a chair, and I hop up in the bed next to my mom and it feels cozy. At least as cozy as things can feel in a generic hospital room. My mom rubs my arm like she would when I was little, and nothing feels like a big deal, not even my problems at work or my worries about my calc grade.
“It’s good to see you, Carter,” my mom says.
“You too, Mom,” I say, resting my head on her shoulder.
All too soon the doctor comes in and shoos us out; visiting hours have long been over and my mom needs her rest.
Thea and I get in the car.
“Distract me,” Thea says before I can ask any questions.
“What?”
“Distract me,” she repeats. “We have a fifteen-minute drive home and I don’t want to talk about Mom. I want to hear about your boring everyday life.”
“Well, I got in trouble at work today.” I relay the story and Thea hmms and ahhs at all the right moments.
“So you’re locked into a prank war with Paisley. I feel like she’ll never let go of this grudge about you lying to her. Not if she’s still holding a grudge from middle school. I don’t think there’s a good way out of this.”
“Yeah, I just feel like I’m so close to … something. Like she doesn’t hate me the way she used to, even with the pranks we’re playing.”
The streetlight spotlights Thea’s face through the rain-soaked windshield. “I don’t think it’s worth it, Carter. I don’t like being the voice of reason, but it just seems like she’s getting you in trouble at work. She might not have boundaries. She might get you into lots of other trouble.”
“I know. To hear you say it out loud really puts it into perspective.”
“So you can be civil, but it’s time to get past it.”
“How do I end the prank war?” I ask.
“Well, ignore it. If she pranks you again, just don’t engage.”
“Don’t engage,” I repeat. “I can do that.”
“Good.”
We pull into the driveway.
“Any further thoughts before we go inside and I have a glass of bourbon and take a long hot bath?”
I shake my head. “Nah. But I really needed this.”
She’s about to open her door. “You didn’t ask about Dad.”
“There’s nothing I want to know.”
We walk into the house in silence and then part ways.
I have a lot to think about.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
-PAISLEY-
When Carter doesn’t show up for class the next morning, I’m almost a little worried. He’s always in class.
I don’t have his number so I can’t text him. If someone had asked me a week ago, I would have taken a smug pride in the fact that I didn’t have Carter’s number, but now I have regrets. I’d kind of like to check on him.
On the other hand, I assume we’re not on speaking terms after the incident with Jordan yesterday. I know the hand sanitizer prank was a preemptive strike against me, and it feels a little wrong that he got in trouble and I didn’t. On the other hand, he did dye Jordan’s hands a bright shade of blue, something I had no part of, even if it was a battle in our prank war.
Maybe it’s time for a cease-fire.
Or maybe I need to get back at him one last time and then call a cease-fire.
My problem is that a cease-fire, to me, has become synonymous with friendship. Like, I don’t see it going any other way. Once we stop pranking each other, we’re going to end up being friends. I know I could stop that by, you know, not being friends with him. But it’s too hard. He’s too nice. He’s too good.
He’s proven over and over again that he’s not the same kid from middle school. And that the deception the first weekend of college was not indicative of his actual personality. It was a blip. A mistake.
I’m so glad that no one can read my mind. This is all rather embarrassing, considering how much I hated him not so long ago.
But there’s still part of me that feels like I can’t trust him.
That still feels like he owes me something.
My last class gets out early, so afterward, I decide to take a walk to the grocery store. I walk to the off-campus one, even though it’s on the smaller side, but at least it’s not as overpriced as the convenience stores on campus. A dollar for a banana? Please.
I’m wandering the aisles, debating what I want, versus what I need, versus what will fit in our mini-fridge, versus what I’m strong enough to carry back, versus ultimately what I can afford.
It’s a balancing act for sure.
Part of this errand is because I’m avoiding T-shirt orders. Between Stef wearing them to class and Zoe telling her friends about them, I can’t keep up. And I’ve already had several people contact me about holiday orders. Like what the heck, people, it’s not even Halloween yet.
I’m considering texting Stef to see if she needs anything when I catch sight of something unexpected in the dairy aisle.
Carter has come in with two women; I assume one is his sister and the other, I know, is his mom.
But she’s wearing a head scarf and looks kind of green tinged. She was our class mom back in elementary school, first or second grade. She made cupcakes and went on field trips with us. I remember I always liked her because she didn’t just talk to Carter. She talked to all of us. And she would switch around who she sat next to on the bus.
She always had some game or song or idea to keep things interesting.
But now. She’s pretty obviously sick. Like, cancer sick.
I scoot around the edge of the store, not wanting to call any attention to myself.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I’m standing in the middle of the cereal idea, so I duck behind a display of Cheerios. I don’t need to be out in plain sight.
It’s Henry.
Henry: I’m texting you so that Jana doesn’t notice me and try to talk to me.
Paisley: That sounds like a terrible plan. Though I do have to warn you that I’m currently grocery shopping and spying on Carter’s family. Keep texting me even if I don’t answer.
Henry: Carter’s family?
Paisley: Yeah, they just came into this store and it looks like his mom is sick.
Henry: Sick how?
And then I feel a tap on my shoulder.
-CARTER-
My mom is released in the morning, and she insists on coming for the ride with Thea to bring me back to school.
“You should go home and rest,” I say.
“You should go home and rest,” she says.
I grin because I can’t help myself. Everything feels so much better this morning.
“And this way we can make sure you have a good meal. Isn’t there an off-campus place that everyone raves about?” she asks my sister.
Thea nods. “Are you really up for it?’
“My stomach is empty, and as long as I don’t eat too much, I’ll be fine. I’m sure they have something simple on their menu. Maybe a good soup.”
When we get back to school, Thea drives us directly to the restaurant, which is good because I’m starving. We walk in and take our seats. I’m happy to see my mom eating pretty normally.
When we’re done eating, Thea offers to bring me to the grocery store to pick up snacks or soda or whatever. And guess who’s lurking the aisles?
Paisley.
I really didn’
t want her to know about my mom. Like, I can deal with Paisley in a million different ways and I can take all the hits she wants to give me, but this is private.
The prank war has been kind of fun and all, minus the part where I got in trouble at work, but I know for Paisley the emphasis is on the “war” part and I really don’t need her trying to take advantage of me somehow because my mom is sick. And I just … didn’t want her to know. I don’t know how else to explain it. But I guess she’ll know now.
I let my mom and my sister walk up to the front to pay, and I slip down one aisle and then another. I find Paisley hiding behind a stack of Cheerios. I tap her on the shoulder and she jumps.
“I know what you’re doing,” I say.
“Grocery shopping?” she says, as she stows her phone in her bag.
“Watching me. Stalking me like prey,” I say. I do my best to make it sound like a joke, but I have this weird feeling like it might be true.
“Me?” she asks, pointing at herself, all innocence. “Little old me? Why would I be watching you? Why would I stalk you like prey?”
I cross my arms.
“Carter, I’m not going to play a prank on you here in the aisles of the Acme. This is a random bump-in. I was not prepared to prank you in any way, shape, or form.”
“I almost want to ask you to dump out your bag. But I’ll trust you. This time.”
She grins. I can’t help but grin back. Seeing her, it’s like I can’t help think about how good we could be together. But then I remember the talk I had with Thea last night.
I’m doing it all wrong.
And Thea isn’t going to be happy when she sees me with Paisley.
Paisley’s phone buzzes incessantly in her pocket.
She grabs for it and reads the screen.
“What’s so interesting?” I ask, trying to get a look at the screen.
“Nothing,” she says, pulling it close to her body.
“Whatever,” I say, turning to go back to my mom and sister.
“You lucked out that we didn’t have work this morning.”
I’m suddenly annoyed.
“Is your mom okay?” she asks.
I pull up short and turn around to look at her. I try to meter my response.