by Joy Jenkins
“Okay then,” she said. “Good luck with the closed off hallway on the second floor and figuring out that detour.” She noticed Link’s face fell and he frowned at the floor in disappointment. “Link,” she said. Link raised his head. “I’ll see you around.”
As Link offered a half-hearted wave, Carter spun on her heel, heading towards the West Wing. Behind her, she heard the rhythm of a whispered argument. Halfway down the hall, Link hurried up to her, Donovan settling in beside him.
“So you walk by the history classroom?” Link asked.
“Not at all,” Carter said. Link paused. “It’s my destination.”
“Well then it would be stupid for us not to walk with you,” Link said.
Carter peered around Link to Donovan with a victorious smile. “Yes, it would be stupid.”
Laughing, Link gestured from his friend to Carter.
“Donavan, this is Carter.”
“Donovan, do you have a last name or are you ‘Just Donovan’?”
Though Donovan’s expression didn't change, Carter strongly felt he didn’t find her jab funny.
“Keller,” he answered.
“Like the Senator?”
“Yes, like the Senator.”
Carter nodded. Senator Keller didn’t have a son. She ignored the misdirection, putting it aside for later contemplation.
As she guided them through the school, she watched how the boys’ maroon blazers drew surrounding attention. But similar to their contrast in appearances so were the responses they received from the other students. Donavan with his confident stride, garnered long, curious looks, while Link barely merited more than a passing glance, nothing more than Donovan’s shadow.
For his part, Donovan didn’t react to the attention. Beside him, Link spotted the glances given to his friend unfazed, seemingly accustomed to it.
“So,” she said looking for another hole to poke at, “am I to pretend that your friendship isn’t strange or are you going to offer a plausible explanation?”
Clearing his throat, Link tugged on his backpack straps as if his burden was too heavy. “It’s not that strange. We live in the same building. He keeps people from beating me up.”
“In turn,” Donovan said, “he helps me with homework.”
The explanation came smooth, rehearsed, and false. Flipping around, Carter faced them as she continued to walk backwards. “Yes,” she said, “because anyone freely taking A.P. history needs help with homework.”
Link flushed while Donovan remained unflustered. Carter continued her backwards movement, not at all bothered with the students she bumped into, too focused on the two boys before her. Storing away their reactions and the lie, Carter directed them down a crowded hallway lined with polished maple wood lockers and gleaming trophy cases showing off the prestige of the school’s athletic division.
By the time they reached their history classroom, Carter hadn’t puzzled out the dynamic between the two.
Putting it aside, she halted outside the doorway, facing the flow of students.
“Aren’t we going in?” Link asked.
“You can. But I’m going to watch the show.”
Curious, Link sidled closer to Carter. “What show?”
Carter searched the crowd until she spotted a familiar boy and girl.
"Jonathan and Macy are going to break up,” Carter said. “Wait for it.”
As Jonathan's gaze followed a passing girl, Macy rounded on him.
"I knew it! You're cheating on me!" Macy screamed.
The fight dissolved into tears, hysterics, pleas, and angry shouts before two teachers broke the couple apart. Carter chuckled as a teacher escorted Macy to the office, her makeup smeared down her face.
"How did you know?" Link asked, half-grinning.
"Easy. I noticed her stiff shoulders, tight lips. The distance between them. His scowl and wandering gaze,” she explained, hoisting herself off the lockers. “Besides, it's Monday and that's what they always do.”
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I figure it's their way of keeping the romance alive. ‘Cause really, after the first initial attraction, what do they have in common? Other than the fact that neither of them can send a text without an abbreviation or an emoji."
As Link started laughing, Carter smiled, something she had done more often that morning than most. When they entered their history classroom the teacher, in his early thirties with gray eyes and a once broken nose, flicked his gaze at them. He began to lower his eyes when he snapped them back up at the sight of Link and Donovan. Carter frowned at the hint of surprise and confusion that darted across her teacher’s narrow face.
“Morning, Philips,” she said.
Mr. Philips cleared his expression as he gathered up a stack of papers and gave Carter a curt nod.
“Hello, Carter. New students, I see.” He waved towards the rows of desks. “Find a seat anywhere.
The bell rang as Carter slid into an open desk. When she looked back at Mr. Philips, she found a frown edged between his thick brow, his eyes on Link.
Chapter 3
An untouched sandwich sat on the table in front of Carter as she amused herself by assessing her peers relationship dynamics. The seats around her lay empty. A reasonable explanation could be given by the trash cans behind her but Carter knew better.
A tray clattering on to her table snapped her from her observations and she glanced up at Link.
He settled into the spot beside her, Donovan taking the seat next to him. Carter eyed them.
Despite the increased number of students, spots at more noteworthy tables remained available. Carter had no doubt Donovan’s good looks could get him a seat at any table, Link would be the tagalong that had to be accepted. Yet they sat with her. And the trash cans.
She had to be missing something.
“You’re sitting with me,” she said.
Link nodded as he picked up a fry. “Is that a problem?”
“No, most people just avoid it. I’m guessing the reasons are pretty obvious.”
“Is it cause you’re blunt, observant, and have no problem voicing your thoughts?”
Carter widened her eyes in mock shock. “Is that why I haven’t won ‘Most Approachable’? And all this time I thought it was the trash cans.”
Link snorted. Holding in a pleased smile, Carter scanned the room. Across the way, a gaggle of girls whispered amongst each other while throwing glances Donovan’s way. One of them nudged her friends until she eventually stood. The girl stopped before Carter’s table.
“What do you know?” Carter said. “Maybe I will win ‘Most Approachable’ this year.”
Link ducked his head, hiding his laughter in his fist. The girl glanced at Carter but with an emotional expression as if Carter were furniture. Having received this look countless times over the years, it had lost its sting.
“Hey, Donovan,” the girl said, flashing him a perfect smile. “I know you’re new here. I wanted to let you know there is room at my table.” She hesitated then gestured to Link. “You…can come too.”
Link sighed as he picked at a chicken finger. Donovan didn’t even raise his head from his salad.
“We’re fine here,” he said.
The girl paused, confused.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Carter leaned on the table. “I’ll come.”
This time the girl shot Carter an acid glare before spinning on her heel and storming off.
“Huh,” Carter said. “I wonder why she didn’t accept my offer,” she shrugged. “Mystery for the ages.”
“Yes,” Link said. “They’ll be working on that one forever.”
Carter peered at Donovan who worked on his salad like nothing around him mattered.
“Why didn’t you say yes?” she said.
When Donovan locked eyes with Carter, she wondered why he enjoyed mimicking a blank wall.
“Think about it,” she said. “You’d be surrounded by girls happy to give you thei
r attention, fawning all over you. You would be the King of the Cafeteria Court. Also, it would be the most interesting part of my day. My prediction: the red-head would have spilled something on you and tried to wipe it off with her hand. It’s a tactic she’s used before.”
Link brightened. “Maybe you should go, Donovan. I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”
Still emotionless, Donovan managed to scream his annoyance at Link. He returned to his lunch, the subject laid to rest. Having no other choice but to go along with this, Link followed suit. Carter studied her two strange companions. Knowing Donovan would be the harder nut to crack, she aimed for Link.
“Why do you wear fake glasses?” she asked.
Link choked on his bite, eyes watering as Donovan froze for a fraction of a second. Taking pity on the coughing boy, Carter handed Link her water bottle and he swallowed two big gulps.
“How do you know my glasses are fake?” he rasped.
“Because I have an above average IQ and your lenses don’t bend the light like prescription glasses. Now, why the fake glasses?”
Link fidgeted with the black frames, eyes never meeting Carter’s, tension in his shoulders, glancing at Donovan. Clearly this was a touchy subject.
“You really don't have boundaries, do you?” Donovan asked, stepping in.
“Boundaries are for people who aren't smart enough to see their way around them. Now…”
Link played with his food. “I just feel comfortable in them.”
“Okay, ignoring the glasses then.”
Half-smiling, Link stared at her. “I’m starting to understand why the table was empty.”
“No one told you to sit here.”
Her blasé remark managed to ease the discomfort in Link and his smile widened.
“I take the blame for that,” Link said. “Because so far you’ve been the most entertaining part of my day.”
“That’s a first,” Carter said, mildly pleased they didn't scare easily. “Since you don’t appear to be leaving, why not tell me where you stand on the social ladder?”
The two boys exchanged looks, Link startled, Donovan setting a new record for never moving a facial muscle.
“I thought your bluntness might explain the empty chairs,” Link said. “But now I’m thinking it’s your lack of conversational skills. You know, normal people start off with topics about pop culture or hobbies when making friends.”
The question hadn’t seemed odd to Carter in the slightest but apparently Jefferson Academy didn’t have the status problems that Hamilton Prep did.
“First off,” she said, “in the half day you’ve interacted with me has the term ‘normal’ ever been connected to me in your mind?” Link nodded in acquiescence. “Second, pop culture is dull. Third, I don’t need to be told about your hobbies: Donovan boxes and you play video games.”
Link looked stunned and Donovan betrayed a hint of surprise, Carter took the success for what it was.
“From the state of Donovan’s scarred knuckles he obviously takes an interest in boxing. Possibly kickboxing based on his physique. As for you, you have the calluses on the pads of your thumbs that come from hours spent playing video games.”
Neither boy spoke.
“So,” she said, “that brings us back to your social status. For example:” She pointed to a curly haired girl across the way. “Daughter to the British Ambassador. That boy is the son of a Supreme Court judge. The idiot with the pink tie is the son of the White House Press Secretary.”
Link surveyed the cafeteria with new eyes. Donovan did the same, though what he felt remained unrevealed, to Carter’s growing irritation. No one had that much control of their expression.
“Where do you rank then?” Donovan asked, though Carter had the distinct feeling he already knew.
“Compared to everyone else, my father is only ‘The Help’, ‘The Underling', ‘The Gun For Hire’,” she said, keeping her tone light.
“What is he to you?” Link asked, curious.
Carter folded her arms against her chest, creating a barrier. The images of a black suit, folded hands, and an earpiece filled her mind.
“The shield,” she said quietly. Before Link could comment, Carter rushed ahead of him. “What do your parents do?” She jabbed an accusing finger at Donovan. “And don’t lie this time. You’re not Senator Keller’s son.”
“I never said I was.”
“No, but you implied it. Besides, the only child Senator Keller has is an illegitimate daughter who is his chief of staff.” At Link’s disbelief and Donovan’s motionless state, Carter frowned. “Did you not know that already? Seriously, they have the same oval face shape, bent nose, and tight mouth. Changing her hair color doesn’t change facts.”
Shaking his head, Link fiddled with his glasses. “How do you know that?”
“Because I have two eyes and a brain.” Carter nudged Link’s arm. “So…?”
He blinked, coming out of his astonishment. “Uh…it’s just my mom and me. She’s a pretty big lawyer. As for my dad…well, he’s not a part of my life.”
Link tore a fry in two.
“I get that,” Carter murmured.
“Just you and your mom then?”
Memories of a suitcase, empty doorway, icy air, and red tail lights made Carter’s stomach turn over. She curled her fingers, burying the images. “No, my dad and me.”
Link held her gaze, offering an understanding smile. Pulling back, Carter focused on Donovan, not acknowledging Link’s sympathy.
“What about you, Donovan?” she said. “What do your parents-“
The question broke off as Mason Douglas, shadowed by his Secret Service agent, moved past their table.
“Owens,” he said. “Don’t look now but people are sitting at your table.”
When Mason glanced at Donovan then Link, he paused for a breath, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Beside her, Carter sensed Link freezing. She cocked her head, putting herself in the line of fire.
“Mason, I was bound to make friends at some point,” she said. “They’re new so you can’t blame them for not knowing about my status as a social pariah.”
Mason eyed the pair again. “Maroon blazers. Transfers. Word of advice: this one is not worth your time.”
“Funny,” Carter said, plastering on a smile. “That’s what I said about you.”
A hard glint came into Mason’s gaze, as he curled his lips in a patronizing manner. “You know Owens, you can be a real pain in the a-“
“Oh, I would watch what you say next,” Carter said. “Because I could get in a good swing before Smith tackled me.” Grinning, she leaned to the side, making eye contact with the silent, Secret Service agent. “Hey, Smith. How’s it going?”
The agent pressed his fist to his mouth. From the corner of her eye, she saw Link relax, his lips twitching with a smile.
“Owens,” Mason said, all his feigned civility fading. “Do you ever shut up?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t tried yet. I don’t find it as easy to turn off my brain but I am open to tips. I can imagine you have a lot.”
Mason glared at her, face reddening. Poking fun at The First Son was far too entertaining and far too easy. To top it off, Link seemed to have forgotten his shock.
“I suggest a blue tie to go with that shade of red,” she said. “It will downplay the color.”
“Owens, you b-“
“Yes, Mr. President?”
Mason clenched his fists at his side, vibrating with anger. Seems she’d hit a nerve.
“All those things you’re thinking about,” she said, recognizing his want to dispel his frustration. “I would rethink them. I have no problem punching the President’s son. Also, I know Smith is so bored he would let me get in a few good hits before stopping me.”
Over Mason’s shoulder, Carter caught the flash of a smile right before Smith coughed out a laugh. Without another word, Mason strode off. Link let out a breath and Carter bumped her shoulder with his.
Chapter 4
The jingle of the bell rose above the tumult of The Sunshine Deli as Carter stepped inside. The interior was overrun by a soccer team of boisterous boys. Behind the deli counter, a woman in her early thirties bustled about, instructing her workers. “Nate, I need more lettuce. April, warm up the sourdough rolls. Anthony, I need more slices of salami.”
The woman smiled, completely at ease with the mayhem taking over her establishment. Carter skirted the boys and caught the woman’s brown eyes which brightened in response. With a nod of acknowledgment from the woman, Carter found an open booth in the back and plopped into it.
Tuning out the madness, she dug into her bag taking out the homework she hadn’t finished. A spread of notebooks and textbooks filled the table by the time the noise had died down. A napkin followed by a cookie landed by the page Carter was working on. The rich scent of chocolate wafted up. Dropping her pencil, she picked up the offered gift and slouched down in the booth. Maggie let out a sigh.
“I have a fifteen-minute break,” she said. Strands of her auburn hair fell out of her ponytail. “Now: how is my favorite customer?”
“I don’t ever pay,” Carter said, biting off a piece of cookie.
“Fine, how is my favorite freeloader?”
“I think ‘adopted daughter’ has a better ring to it, don’t you?”
Maggie blushed, the color warming her almond skin. “I believe for that to ever happen your father would have to actually ask me out.” She tapped Carter’s hand. “Now tell me. How was school?”
“Fine,” Carter said. “We got a new group of students today. Apparently, their school had a water main burst. Anyway, now we have a hundred new kids crowding the hallways.”
Intrigued, Maggie rested her chin on her fist. “And…what did you make of them?”
“Five were politician’s kids, one has parents going through a rough divorce, another has a drinking problem, and another has an eye vision problem that’s not being dealt with.”
