by Joy Jenkins
Carter accepted the hug, finding comfort in Maggie’s arms. Taking in a steadying breath, Carter forcefully rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of the evidence.
“Let’s go back,” she said.
With Maggie as quiet support, Carter re-entered her father’s room. Curtis gave Carter’s father a nod and headed towards the door.
“Thanks for bringing me,” Carter said.
Curtis squeezed her shoulder once before leaving. Dragging a chair up to the bed, Carter sank into it.
“Hi, Steve,” Maggie said. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got shot,” he said.
Carter snorted as she rested her battered Converses on the rim of the bed. “That’s original.”
“I’m on a lot of painkillers, so it’s not too bad,” her father told Maggie.
Maggie smiled, tension leaving her shoulders. Finally able to see her, Carter noted the red in Maggie’s eyes and the crease of worry in her normally smooth brow.
“Good,” Maggie breathed out. “I’m glad you’re safe. I can keep Carter company tonight.”
Shaking her head, Carter slipped deeper into the chair. “I’m not leaving. I’m spending the night here.”
“Sarge-“
“Carter-“
“There is no argument you can bring that I won’t out-argue.”
Her father and Maggie exchanged a glance.
“I can pick her up tomorrow and drive her home,” Maggie offered.
“Thank you.”
Maggie gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “I’ll leave so you can get some rest.” At the door, she paused, sending them both a smile in which her heart was hidden.
The door clicked shut, muting the inquiries floating through the hallway. Carter wiggled into a more comfortable position, though in the hard chair it felt impossible.
“You don’t look comfortable,” her father said.
Carter slouched as if trying to become one with the chair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good, me neither.”
He tried to smile but it barely reached the corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes, exhaustion spreading across his face. Curling up, Carter watched him. The constant beeping overtook the room. She flipped off the lamp beside his bed, leaving them in semi-darkness.
After a long moment, she spoke. “I love you, Captain.”
Her father's heavy breathing was all the response she received. The only response she needed.
Chapter 17
Carter."
A faint voice tugged Carter from her restless sleep. She stirred, still clinging to the fog of her dreams.
"Carter, hon, it's time to get up," Maggie said, gently shaking Carter’s shoulder.
Shifting, Carter slipped out of Maggie's grasp.
"Carter."
Reality seeped into Carter's mind through the beeping of a monitor and the smell of cleaning solutions. The steady beep cut through her sleep. She opened her eyes, instantly awake. She jerked her head towards the bed where her father lay asleep.
She sighed with relief and untucked her feet from beneath her. Every muscle protested the movement, the cramped position she had taken while sleeping stiffening every joint.
"Come on, I'll take you home so you can shower and change," Maggie said.
Carter cautiously stretched, hiding a grimace. For a breath, she watched her father's chest rise and fall, reassuring herself that he was still okay. He hadn't left her.
"I want to stay," she whispered.
Maggie squatted beside Carter's chair. "I know you do, hon, but he's going to need a lot of time to sleep and recover. I'll bring you back after school.”
Carter gripped the chair's armrests, looking at her father. Maggie put a thin hand on top of Carter’s. "He's going to be okay," she said.
Relaxing, Carter nodded.
"Let's go before we wake him," Maggie said.
Carter gave her father one last look before following Maggie out.
A shower, change of uniform, and a car ride later, Carter stepped out in front of the school, feeling battered.
"I'll see you this afternoon, alright?" Maggie said.
"Okay," Carter said, her voice hoarse.
Maggie looked at Carter's disheveled hair and ragged face with concern but Carter barely registered it. She climbed the stairs, her body heavy and her mind even heavier.
The hallways lay empty, classes already in motion, the students lost in boredom or in the lesson. Carter's footsteps resounded on the floor as she made her way to history. As she turned the corner, Mason stepped out of his class. Taking in her rumbled state, he smirked.
"Whose bed did you wake up on the wrong side of?" he asked.
Carter glanced at him but kept walking, leaving him stumped by her passivity. Mr. Philips's voice slipped beneath the door as Carter approached her classroom. Outside the door, she halted, weary. With a tired sigh, she opened the door. Mr. Philips fell silent and every head turned to look at her.
"Carter," he said, "I'm glad you could make it. Please take your seat so I can continue."
Carter made no reply, surprising the class. Link watched her with confusion. Donovan looked over at her but Carter didn't look back.
Mr. Philips picked up his lesson, his voice drawing everyone's attention away from Carter. Everyone's except Link and Donovan's.
When the bell rang, Carter picked up her bag; she hadn't even bothered taking notes. Students poured out of the classroom, flooding the hallways. Carter had just broken free from the initial wave of students when someone saying her name stopped her. She began to turn when Lucas appeared before her, surrounded by a group of his friends.
"Owens," he said. "What happened? I didn't think it was possible for you to look any uglier.”
The group let out a round of loud laughs, producing curious bystanders. Lucas accepted a high five from the boy next to him. Carter stared at them, her face unreadable. Lucas pouted in mock sympathy. "What? Did you discover your daddy doesn't love you and left you?"
Anger seared through Carter and she pulled back her hand, curling her finger into a tight fist. She swung. There was a loud smack as her fist was stopped by a strong hand. Looking over, she found Donovan gripping her fist.
"Don't do it," he said.
Carter wrenched her fist free of Donovan's grasp and leveled Lucas with passionless eyes.
“You,” Lucas said to Donovan, “should keep a shorter leash on your b-"
The insult died in Lucas's throat as Donovan decked him in the jaw. The crack startled students. Lucas blacked out for a second and crashed into a set of lockers. When he came to, Donovan stood over him. Taking the front of his blazer, Donovan helped Lucas to his feet, saying something too low for Carter to hear, though she saw the result as Lucas paled.
"You should be careful where you walk next time, running into doors can leave nasty bruises," Donovan said, unconcerned.
Lucas fingered his jaw as Donovan faced Carter.
"And why did you get to punch him and not me?" she asked, glaring at him.
Taking her arm, Donovan led her away from the group of boys, Link following. "Because you couldn't afford another infraction on your school record.”
Carter rolled her eyes. “Of course, you read my school file."
Donovan didn't answer. He pushed through the library doors and guided Carter to the furthest corner and released her. Link stopped a few feet away, his arms crossed, betraying a mixture of concern and frustration.
"I just risked a mark on my school record or possible suspension by punching Lucas. Now, you’re going to tell us what's going on" Donovan said.
Carter leaned against the wall, crossing her ankles and stuffing her hands into her pockets. She shrugged. She hoped she appeared careless instead of worn out. "Whatever do you mean? I usually get into fights to wake myself up."
"No, you normally belittle people," Donovan said. "Making some comment about their IQ.”
"What can I say? Actions speak lou
der than words."
Link took a step forward. "Cut it out, Carter! The only reason I'm even standing here is because you look like hell and almost got into a fight.”
Carter slumped under the intensity of his stare. Fatigue came back to her as the strength her anger had given her disappeared. She dropped her head. With weary sigh, she let the facade of her uncaring demeanor slip away.
"My father was shot last night," she said, in a quiet voice.
"Jeez, Carter, is he okay? What happened?" Link asked, all his frustration gone, pushed away by his worry.
"He's fine," Carter said.
Link watched her with concern while Donovan softened with sympathy. Carter sank to the ground, the weight of her thoughts dragging her down. She rested her head against the wall, staring up at them. "He was hit in the shoulder. The bullet went through clean and he's recovering. I spent the night by his hospital bed in a chair. That's why I look this awful."
Carter focused on her hands as if she couldn't bear the weight of either boy’s expression.
"For a second I thought I had lost him,” she whispered.
No one said anything, her confession hanging in the still air.
"Look, Link," she started but paused, her thoughts untangling themselves. “Yesterday…I don't know how to do apologies. If you haven't figured it out yet, I don't know how to do friendship either."
Link broke away from her gaze, some of his hurt returning.
“But I am sorry for what I did. For what I said,” she said. "For pushing you to tell me and all because I wanted to be right. I hurt you and I'm sorry."
Link let his arms drop to his sides, releasing his barrier.
"You don't have anything to worry about," Carter said. "No one will ever know who you are from me."
She read his hesitancy and finally his acceptance. He offered her a small smile which she returned, along with an outstretched hand.
"Friends?" she asked.
Link settled onto the floor and accepted her hand. "Friends."
Donovan joined them.
After a comfortable pause, Link cleared his throat and scoffed his shoe against the carpet. “So…um… how did you know? About my secret, I mean. No one, at any of my schools, ever figured it out.”
Carter sank back against the wall, appreciating the change of subject, her relief and exhaustion mixing together to leaden her body.
“I knew there was something you weren’t telling me; I kept picking up on clues that something seemed off. I finally figured it out when I tackled you," she said. "I saw the freckles in your eyes, same as your father's. With your glasses on they aren't as noticeable. Once I saw that, it all clicked. You have the same nose, mouth, and chin. Then everything else fell into place: your dislike of Mason; avoiding my gaze when I talked about Senator Keller having an illegitimate daughter; your startled reaction when I referred to Donovan as your bodyguard, since that is actually what he is. All of it."
"You figured that all out because you saw freckles in my eyes?" Link asked.
Donovan laughed a low, amused laugh and Carter stared at him, shocked. Miracles did happen apparently.
“My estimation of you was wrong,” Donovan said. "After that first lunch, I was convinced you would figure it out sooner.”
Carter didn't respond, couldn’t respond. All this time, he’d been expecting her to find out. Donovan’s face held emotion, real emotion. Would wonders never cease?
"The statue is human," she said.
Donovan smiled, the expression completely foreign on his usually placid face.
"Of course," she said. "The moody persona."
"It was the thing we found that worked the best," he said. "The hard exterior keeps others at bay and draws attention away from Link."
She regarded the pair, feeling as if she were really seeing them as the false personas melted away. She gave the surrounding library a furtive glance, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. "How long have you been his bodyguard?"
"Six years," Donovan said. "Since Douglas became President."
"Did you always know your whole life?" she asked Link.
"No," he said, unresolved anger simmering beneath his words. "I was told when my dad was running for President." He nodded to Donovan. "For security reasons, I was given a bodyguard. Only a few actually know about it."
"And you and Mason..."
Link rubbed the back of his neck. “He doesn’t know. I’ve only ever met my dad at secure locations.“
"It must be terrible having to go to school with him," Carter said.
Link picked at the carpet. "Yeah, it's not the best."
"Well," Carter said. "Let's go to lunch and if we're lucky he'll choke on his chicken.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Link chuckled.
"Lunch sounds good," Donovan said.
"Don't want to keep your fan club waiting, I see," Carter said.
Irritated, Donovan shook his head. "Those girls are draining.”
Standing, he reached out his hand to Carter. She took it and he easily helped her to her feet, as if she weighed nothing. Link pushed himself up.
"Don't worry," Carter said. "I'll sit with you and keep them at bay with my charm."
"You must have a different definition of charm than I am currently aware of,” Donovan said. “Your charm is more on the level of insulting."
"Charm, insults, they amount to the same thing in my book. They are both used for a specific purpose."
"Fair enough," Donovan said.
Before Carter could lead the way, Link stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Hey, I want to say I’m glad your father is okay.” He swallowed. “He’s the reason my dad is okay.”
The maelstrom of the previous night reemerged and Carter fought to keep it away. “Thanks. So how did yesterday with Amy go?”
Seeming to understand her need to move on, Link winced. “It’s a work in progress.”
"Need help?" she asked.
"You mind?"
She gently punched his arm. "Not at all. What are friends for?"
Chapter 18
Seated between Link and Donovan, Carter didn’t feel the weariness of that morning pressing quite so heavily. In only a few hours she would see her father again. A father in the hospital, not the morgue. Though her worry about her father would never go away, being reconciled with her two friends made her breathe easier. For now, for this instant, she could simply be a girl who wasn’t alone.
At the moment, not being alone meant that one of her friends was valiantly trying to flirt while the other suffered through a girl verbally harassing him. When the girl giggled, Carter winced as Donovan flexed his jaw in irritation. Carter pitied the girl, her excited nervousness coming off as desperation. From where Donovan sat, she wasn’t sure he cared about the difference.
“So there I am, lost in the museum,” the girl said, talking fast to cover her nerves. “And they announce they are about to close.”
Giggling again, she placed her hand on Donovan’s bicep as if to bring him in on the hilarity. Carter saw the humor in the entire thing but the way Donovan pointedly looked at Carter for help, she didn’t think he saw it.
It struck Carter then how without Donovan saying anything, she understood what he wanted. Somehow knowing who he was broke down the barriers between them, giving her insight no one else could see. It felt strange and warming.
“I was so nervous, I could barely think,” the girl continued.
In response to Donovan’s wordless request for help, Carter rested her chin in her hand, suddenly engrossed in the girl’s story. Donovan kicked her and she scowled. Behind the passive look he returned her, she had the sense he was smirking.
The girl laughed again, still holding onto Donovan’s arm. Despite his physique, it seemed Donovan fit the mold of a damsel in distress. Carter leaned on the table, devoting her full attention to the girl. At Carter’s wide-eyed interest, the girl tripped over her story, flushing.
“Please go on,�
�� Carter said. “Your story is truly riveting. I want to know how it ends or, you know, I might die of curiosity.”
The girl opened her mouth but nothing came out. Carter nodded slowly, waiting for more. “Can you at least let me know if you got out of the museum alive?”
Color flooded the girl’s cheeks and she stormed away from the lunch table. Carter only felt a tinge of guilt; after all, the girl had been fondling Donovan’s arm for the last three minutes.
“I guess we will never know if she made it out alive. It’s tragic.”
“Took you long enough,” Donovan whispered.
“Why couldn’t you have handled it yourself, princess?”
“Because I know any attention, positive or negative, only invites more.”
He had a point there. “Well, you ruined my entertainment. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Anything that doesn’t involve my arm being stroked.”
Carter raised her eyebrows in shock. “Wait? This bothers you?”
As she reached for Donovan’s arm, he shot his hand out and held her wrist. Carter retaliated by pulling back this thumb with her free hand. Donovan countered her move but Link stopped them.
“Guys?” At once, Carter and Donovan released their holds, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Amy wondered if we wanted to work on the history assignment together today, during free period.”
Carter scoffed. “I already finished that.” Link widened his eyes, pleading. “I mean, sure. I need help with that.”
“Okay, great,” Amy said. “It will help so I don’t have to do it over the weekend. I’ll be free as a bird.”
Carter saw the hint like a flashing neon sign but Link simply nodded. Carter exchanged a look with Donovan.
“What are you doing this weekend, Link?” Amy asked, leaning in, smiling.
“The usual, homework, video games. I don’t know, stuff.”
Smile wilting, Amy shrank back. “Sounds like fun. Well, I have to go to the bathroom. Jen, come with me?”
Once the pair were out of sight, Carter socked Link in the arm.
“Ow! What was the for?” he asked, rubbing the sore spot.
