by Joy Jenkins
Breathing hard, she stumbled to a halt, bending over her knees, gulping in air. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing away the night. Wishing she could return to the race at school when she felt in control. When her father wasn’t marked for death.
As Carter straightened, she realized where her legs had taken her. To the playground she’d grown up on. She entered and dropped into one of the swings. It swayed beneath her. She bent her face into her hands. The cold wind bitterly shouldered its way past her. The harsh tones of voices drifted out into the night. As she sat, Carter felt all her emotions mesh together and sting her eyes. The tightness in her chest doubled and she fought for each lungful of air.
The metal fence squeaked out a warning and Carter shot her head up. Parades of tears traveled down her face. A thin figure approached her.
"Hi, Hon," Maggie said, concerned.
Carter buried her head into her hands again. "He's signed up for two more years," she choked out.
Maggie crouched down, resting one hand on Carter's knee. "I know, Hon.”
"Why would he do that? Why would he do that to us? To me?"
Maggie rubbed Carter's arm comfortingly. "I know it was a hard decision for him to make," she said. "He didn't make it on a whim. We talked about it for a long-"
Carter jerked up. "You knew?"
"Your father needed a friend, Carter."
Carter made no sign that she had even heard Maggie, her tears receding. "You knew and you didn't tell me about what he was planning to do? Didn't warn me? Didn't give me the chance to talk him out of it?"
"Carter, it was your father's decision, so it was his choice when to tell you, not mine."
For the second time that night, Carter felt her heart getting punched. Maggie with her caring brown eyes, friendly smile, comforting manner. She knew. All this time she knew and lied.
"You were my friend," Carter said.
"It was not my place to tell." Maggie reached to stroke Carter's hair but Carter pulled away. "Hon, you have to-"
Carter stumbled up from the swing, backing away from Maggie. “Stop. Don’t call me that. You are not my mother. You were supposed to be someone I trusted." She shook her head, her eyes hard as steel. "Turns out you’re as much of a let down as she was."
Tears jumped into Maggie's eyes but Carter didn't see as she spun away. She left the playground and kept walking.
She was a block away from her house when she took in the world around her. All her fiery emotions had fallen away with each step, leaving her depleted. She stared at the lane, frozen by the question of what to do. Accepting Donovan’s offer of his couch came to mind but without her phone or wallet, she couldn’t get there.
Numb with cold, she ascended the apartment stairs. Her father was on the phone and pacing when Carter walked in. He stared at her, his worry clear. Without a word, she shut the door and moved to her room.
"Carter," he said, stopping her. "We need to talk about this."
She didn't turn around as she responded. "You haven't talked to me for the last two weeks. Why start now?"
Chapter 47
Carter woke to her father moving about the apartment. A renewed stab of shock hit her as the announcement from the night before came back in full force. She listened to her father’s even tread as he walked from one room to the next, eventually stopping outside her door.
"Sarge," he said. "You awake?"
Not answering, Carter flung aside the blankets and stood up. She knew he would hear her bare feet on the thin carpet. After a second, he walked away. As she got ready, Carter managed to avoid him. The smell of frying eggs and partially burned toast drifted through the apartment but she took no notice.
When Carter stepped into the living room, she halted. Her father stood with his back to her as he pulled on his black suit jacket. At the sight, she felt like someone broke through her chest and squeezed her heart with their hand. She needed to get out.
"I have breakfast for you," her father said, stalling Carter.
"Not hungry.” Her stomach had been replaced by rope tangled in a million tiny knots. The thought of eating seemed impossible.
"I can give you a ride," her father said, as she grabbed the door handle.
"I'm fine."
"Carter, don’t shut me out."
Tense with anger, she twisted back to him. “Don’t you know? Children learn all of their habits from their parents."
She was halfway out the door when her father’s words stopped her dead in her tracks.
"I love you, Sarge," he said, quietly.
An invisible enemy used Carter’s heart as a punching bag. "No, you don't," she said. “If you did, you wouldn’t be doing this.”
Slamming the door shut, she hurried down the stairs. Her father didn't call after her. A bank of eerie clouds loomed on the horizon. As Carter entered the lane, Maggie came into view. Carter turned to stone, her battered and bruised heart shrinking away.
"He's inside," she said before Maggie could speak.
"I'm here to talk to you," Maggie said, blocking Carter’s path
Carter stared at her, all her emotions battling in her eyes. "That's new."
Maggie reached for Carter but reconsidered it and retracted her hand. “Carter, this isn't fair. You know I couldn't tell you."
"Nothing is fair," Carter said, her tone hard as rock. "I thought life would have taught you that by now. I have a friend who betrayed me and a father who is once again a human bulletproof vest."
She left Maggie rooted to the spot.
Carter shouldered her way through the dense crowd of students in the school hallway. Gossip was handed out like paper notes in lowered voices, accompanied by smirks and sidelong glances. Everything around Carter seemed heightened as if all the noise of the world beat against her eardrums. New waves of emotions washed over her as she continually replayed her father's words: “I signed back on with the Secret Service for two more years."
She felt as if pieces of her were cracking. She balled her fists, trying to keep herself together. When Lucas crossed her path with a taunting grin already in play, she felt her nerves snap. It took everything in her to hold herself back from knocking him out, simply for his look.
"Owens," he said, "punch anyone lately?"
"Is that an invitation?" she said.
He barked out a mocking laugh. "You know what your problem is?"
"Currently it's the sad excuse for a human being in front of me."
He cast her a patronizing smile. "You think you're above everyone else but really you're just the daughter to the President's throw away human shield."
Before Carter’s fist could make contact, a sharp voice called her name. "Carter!"
Fingers still clenched, Carter lowered her hand, staring daggers at Lucas. His smirk widened until Donovan took a spot beside Carter.
"How's the jaw?" he asked.
There was still a fading sign of Donovan’s right hook on Lucas’s face.
"It seems you still have a master," Lucas said, locking eyes with Carter.
This time Donovan wasn't fast enough.
Carter punched Lucas, a loud crack sounding as her fist collided with his cheekbone. His head jerked to the side as he stumbled into a group of juniors. A couple of girls gasped. Donovan grabbed Carter's arms and held her back from going at Lucas again. But his hold wasn't necessary. The fight had left her, her need to lash out mollified. Lucas cupped his cheek.
"I guess that changes my answer to your original question," Carter said.
"I'll have you expelled for this," he snarled.
"And what will you do when I tell the principal who has been dealing steroids in the boys' locker room?"
"You have no proof."
"Try me."
Principal Withers split the group around them, fighting back a look of severe anger. Donovan let go of Carter's arms. The Principal glanced between Lucas's face and Carter's scowl, assessing the situation. "You two. My office."
Without looking back
at Donovan, Carter followed Mr. Withers as hundreds of eyes followed her. Lucas grudgingly walked with her.
"Sit," Principal Withers ordered.
Lucas and Carter sat down in the two chairs before the Principal’s desk. Mr. Withers gripped the back of his leather chair, regarding them.
"Mr. Benton," he said. "What part did you play in this ordeal?” Lucas opened his mouth but Mr. Withers cut him off. "Let me remind you, son, there was a hallway full of eyewitnesses. I do not have time for falsities. If you lie to me, I will see that you receive a punishment equal to Miss Owens."
Lucas slouched in his chair. Mr. Withers tightened his hold on the chair. "Respond, Mr. Benton, or I will assume you physically assaulted Miss Owens and she was defending herself."
Lucas sat bolt upright. "I didn't touch her!" he yelled.
"Then what, pray tell, did you do to bring about this altercation?"
Lucas ground his teeth, his eyes fiery with defiance. Carter didn't even bother to look at him. His gaze flickered to her, menacing.
"I insulted her," he said, through clenched teeth.
"Very well.” Mr. Withers shifted his gaze to Carter, not concealing his frustration. "Miss Owens, was I not clear when I said that a second infraction could result in suspension or expulsion?"
"You were very clear, sir," she said, her voice lacking any note of submission.
"I also remember a meeting with your father, where he promised me this sort of occurrence would not happen again."
Pain burst in Carter's chest. “Yeah, well, he's breaking a lot of promises lately so don't think you're special."
Mr. Withers narrowed his eyes, seeming to read more than Carter wanted him to. She crossed her arms, shielding herself.
"Is he available to take my call?" he asked.
"Not likely, he's probably with the President."
Carter knew it wasn't true but in her mind, that's where she saw him. Right beside the President, a single step away from diving to take the bullet.
Mr. Withers nodded. "I see. Mr. Benton, I'm assigning you a week's worth of detention-"
"What?!"
"-starting next Monday. Don't skip or I will make your last two months of school here unbearable. Good day, close the door on your way out."
Lucas stormed out of the office, slamming the door, making the pane of glass rattle. Mr. Withers didn't even flinch, accustomed to the dramatics. In Mr. Withers's eyes, Carter could see understanding and sympathy. Neither of which she cared for at the moment.
"Miss Owens," he said, "how is your father's recovery going?"
The question threw Carter off guard. "Fine."
"I understand that having such an event happen to someone-"
Carter shot up, cutting him off. A new flare of anger coursed through her. "I do not want your pity or sympathy," she said, trying to rein in her emotions. "I understand that punching Lucas was a serious infraction and I will suffer what consequences you see fit. But I didn't do it without just cause. Give me my punishment, I have a field trip to get to."
Mr. Withers studied her with old eyes. “Alright. Have a good field trip, Miss Owens. I think you've had enough punishment with Mr. Benton's insults”
Carter stared at him, baffled. He waved a hand towards the door. "I believe you have somewhere to be, Miss Owens."
Carter nodded dumbly. She opened the door but paused at Mr. Withers' voice.
"Miss Owens," he said. “This is not a free pass that you will have again. Assault another student again and I will have you expelled." He smiled. "Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Without a word, Carter left the office. The hallways were empty, a low hum of voices coming from behind closed doors. Outside a thick darkening layer of clouds overran the sky. By the time that Carter rounded the corner to her classroom, her flare of anger had died down to smoldering embers, leaving her raw.
She stopped short at the sight of a man in a black suit standing outside the chemistry room. When he shifted, she realized it was Smith. "Yes, sir. I understand," he said. He glanced at his watch. "I will. Same to you, Mr. President."
He hung up as Carter closed the distance.
"Mason alright?" she asked.
"He is."
"Carter, I heard about your father," Smith said. Carter froze, feeling sick. "It's an honorable thing that he is doing, stepping back in when the President needs him.”
She couldn't look at him. Couldn’t breathe.
"Many men in his situation would not be as brave to sign up for two more years."
Carter found all she could do was nod, her guts twisting as she clenched the door handle.
"You should be proud," he said.
It took all Carter’s willpower not to snap at him. As she stepped into the classroom, she schooled her features into a mask of indifference. Mr. Rojas fell silent.
"Miss Owens, it's good to have you with us," he said.
She said nothing as she carved her way to her seat. She felt Donovan's penetrating gaze on her like it was a hot brand. As she settled onto her stool, Mr. Rojas took up his lesson once more.
"Hey, you alright?" Link whispered. "I saw you deck Lucas."
"I'm fine," Carter said, bending over her bag to hide her emotions. "Guy just gets on my nerves. That's all."
Even Link’s concerned gaze felt oppressive and she tried to ignore it.
"Carter, that didn't really look like he was just-"
"Mr. Evans?” Link jerked his attention to the front of the class. "Did what you were saying to Miss Owens have anything to do with the current topic?"
Link squirmed, embarrassed. "No."
"Then I will ask you to stop talking during my class."
Link nodded, his cheeks receiving spots of pink. Overhead the school speaker clicked on. “Good morning, students,” Principal Withers said. “This announcement is for all the seniors signed up for the field trip to the Newseum. Please make your way out to the buses at the front steps. Thank you.”
The speaker clicked off and more than half of the classroom rose to their feet. Carter immersed herself in the gathering throng, slipping out of Link and Donovan’s sight. Outside large charter buses stood idling. Carter cut through the mass of students to Mr. Philips, who stood with his clipboard ready.
“I’m here,” she said, and climbed onto the closest bus, hiding in a seat in the back.
When the buses pulled up to the curb outside of the Newseum, Carter was the last one to file off. She continued to avoid Link with his worry and Donovan with his scrutiny. The class entered the museum through darkened paned doors into the gallery level.
The Newseum – a museum dedicated to displaying history as told through the news - rose six stories with rooms displaying sections of the Berlin wall, to theater rooms showcasing newsreels that shook the world. But inside the gallery level, the museum resembled a low lit maze of narrow hallways and dim rooms, lit only with spotlights over Pulitzer prize winning photographs. As with the National Museum of American History, only Hamilton Prep students occupied the place since Mason was present along with four Secret Service agents.
“Alright, listen up,” Mr. Philips said, calling over the murmur of voices. “We have seven hours here. You’ll spend an hour on each floor, starting with the gallery. There is a cafe and we’ll break there for lunch. Remember you are required to write a full essay on something that catches your interest here today, so don’t mess around. But you are free to move about as you please. In an hour, I’ll call you all together and we’ll move on. If you have questions, I or some other museum assistant will be around.” He waved them away. “Go explore.”
Students broke away and spilled into the surrounding space. Carter distanced herself from the crowd, winding her way through hallways and around unconnected sections of walls that stood there only to display large photos. All she could think about was avoiding as many students as she could, not wanting to fall apart or lash out. With each passing minute, she felt herself splintering, her father’s words han
ging over her, chipping away at her composure.
Her phone beeped, the message another punch.
"I'll be home late. We need to talk. I love you, Sarge."
Carter stood in the middle of the hallway, staring down at the message. Behind her, she heard Link’s voice but she didn’t move. Every part of her felt battered.
“Carter, there you are,” Link said. “So, something happened with Amy.”
It took everything Carter had to stow away her phone and face Link and Donovan while her mind spiraled. She tried to appear to be listening but she felt on the verge of shattering. As each second passed she wanted to scream, every nerve tight to the point of breaking.
“Now she’s avoiding me. What do you think, Carter?” Link said, nudging her arm.
Carter exploded. “Link! For crying out loud! Man up and deal with your own problems for once!”
Link stared at her, stunned, while Donovan looked furious. Carter tried to find it in her to care but she felt spent. Link shuffled back a step, clenching his backpack straps.
“Link, stay here,” Donovan said, firmly. “Do not move. Carter, come with me.”
Taking Carter’s arm, Donovan led her into one of the dim empty rooms. Carter yanked her arm free and spun on him.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
Carter glared at him. “Don’t. I don't want a lecture from you."
"Then tell me why you lost it on Link."
"Because he needs to deal with his problems. Some of us have bigger things to deal with than not understanding a girlfriend."
Donovan stared her down. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. Back off!”
His look dissected her, reading the emotions that warred on her face.
“Let me leave," she said, angry.
He crossed his arms, blocking the entrance. “No. Tell me what's going on and don't say ‘nothing’. You punched Lucas."
Carter clenched her fists, belligerent. The words sat trapped in her mouth. An irrational part of her didn't want to say them, feeling that if she spoke them then they would be true.
Donovan softened and raised one hand as if to reach for her. "When will you learn you can trust me?" he asked, his voice more gentle than she ever imagined it could be.
