David looked at Mary. "Are you all right? You seem kinda down."
"I didn't sleep well last night," she admitted.
"Dealing with a lot, I'll bet," he said.
You have no idea, she thought.
"Hey there," Sienna said as she walked up to David's side. "Not trying to steal my boyfriend too, are you?"
Mary chuckled. "Of course not. But what do you mean by 'too'?"
Sienna gasped. "You didn't hear?"
"Come on, Sienna," David said. "Gossip makes you so unsexy."
"But this isn't gossip. It's concerning Mary," she said.
"What are you talking about?" Mary asked.
"I'm talking about Carter and Laci's break up."
"I heard about that," Mary said. "Laci dumped him. But how does that concern me?"
"I heard that Carter dumped her," Sienna said. "The point is that they aren't together anymore. Kinda convenient for that to happen after an accident involving you and him."
Mary was speechless for a moment. Then, she frowned. "You're a moron."
Sienna looked at her like a deer in headlights.
David frowned. "That was too far, Mary."
Mary ignored him as she snapped at Sienna. "You hear this and that and whatever. Who the crap cares? Just leave me alone."
Before they could say more, Mary darted down the nearest stairwell and left the school. On the bus, she recalled her encounter with Laci. She seemed okay and pretty nice, actually. Not broken up or anything. But then again, she could have been acting because she was flirting with that other guy. Despite who did the dumping, that might've been why Carter was so distant.
He was the same way the next day. And the day after that. And every day that week. The only time Mary saw Carter was in Physics, and he sat in the back and didn't make eye contact with anyone.
When the Honor Roll was posted for the quarter, Mary found her name in the usual spot. It would be higher if it weren't for that cursed English class. But at least they were through with the Italian hell book.
She looked at the rest of the list and found Carter's name, which had never appeared on the Honor Roll before. But there he was at the thirteenth rank. Somehow, in less than a month, he had improved his GPA exponentially.
Another few days passed. Finally, Mary couldn't stand it anymore. After Physics, she ran out the door to catch Carter in the hall. "Carter! Wait a minute!"
He stopped and turned to her. "Hello, Mary," he said politely.
"Hey," she said. "Um, I know it's been a while. But I've wanted to say how sorry I am. About you and Laci."
"Sorry?" he asked. "Why?"
She shrugged. "Well, I'm not an expert on relationships or anything. But it couldn't have been easy breaking up."
"Oh. I see." He paused for a moment. "Relationships are curious things. Don't you agree?"
"Yeah. Totally. I—hey!" she said. "You just used a contraction!"
"I did."
Mary saw that he was still walking a little weird, but not mini-lunging any more. "How long has this been going on?" she asked.
"I've been practicing." He stopped. "Mary?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you completed your painting?" he asked. "The one of Saturn's rings?"
"Oh yeah," she said, recalling they had talked about it before. "I did."
"May I see it?"
Well, she had said he could. And Mary wasn't one to go back on her word. "Um, sure. It's in the Art room. But isn't basketball practice going on now? I don't know if you have enough time to see it."
"I'm not on the basketball team anymore," he said.
She stared at him. "You're not?"
He shook his head. Still a little dramatic, but not as much as before. "My coordination is not as it used to be. My doctor and coach agreed that I should not play for the rest of the season."
Mary felt like ironing her hands again.
"Did I say something offensive?" he asked. "Why do you look sad now?"
"Oh." She shook her head, "It's just…I'm…I thought basketball's a big deal to you. And I'm sorry that you can't play anymore because of…well…because of me."
"I do not blame you for anything," he said.
She shrugged. "I know. But I still feel bad about it."
He stared at her for a moment. Then he said, "I understand. But I hope that soon you will know that there is no need to feel that way."
He was making it hard for Mary to sufficiently punish herself. "So, what class are you taking in place of basketball?" she asked.
"I'm not in another class," he said. "It is too late in the term. So, I will make up for it in the summer."
Crap, she thought. Not only did she take away his car and basketball, but she set him behind schedule, too.
"You're sad again," he said.
"Sorry," she said. "I just…well, that must be nice, though. To have a free class period to do nothing."
"I help at the library," he said. "If there are not books to shelve or other things to do, I work on my homework or read."
That could explain how his grades were getting better. "You like reading?" she asked.
"I like learning about humanity," he said. He paused for a moment and then added, "So yes. I like reading."
Up until that moment, Mary had never heard of a boy who liked to read.
"Your painting?" he asked.
"Oh. Right," she said.
They headed for the Art room, where they found Mr. Edwards stacking bottles of paint in a cabinet. "Hey there, Mary. And good afternoon, Carter."
"Good afternoon, sir. How are you?" Carter greeted.
"I'm well, thanks. Just tidying up a bit."
"Would you like any help?" he asked.
Mary noted the curious look on the Art teacher's face. "I only have this last box of paint to put up. That's all. But thanks for asking."
"You're welcome."
Mr. Edwards still looked puzzled. Mary explained, "Carter wanted to see my Saturn rings painting. Is that all right, sir?"
"Of course," he said. But the wrinkles in his brow didn't go away.
She went to the drawer with her name on it and took out the canvas. "Well? What do you think?"
Carter said nothing at first.
"It's all right if you don't like it," she said.
"No, that's not it," he said. "Not at all. It's…magnificent."
Mary had never heard that word used to describe her work before. "Really?"
"Maybe that isn't the right word. I can't think of a better one, though." He looked at her. "You are gifted."
"That's what I say," Mr. Edwards added. "Let's see if you can convince her to enter it into the contest. Or any of her other paintings, for that matter. I've been trying for the past three years."
Mary smiled. "No thanks."
"Why not?" Carter asked.
She replaced the canvas in the drawer. "I don't like competition."
"With that painting, I don't think there will be any," he said. "You should do it."
She shook her head.
He turned to Mr. Edwards. "I tried."
"It's all we can do," the teacher chuckled.
When Mary had stored her painting again, they said goodbye to Mr. Edwards and left the school.
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said.
"Mary?"
"Yeah?"
"Where are you going to now?"
Why did he want to know? "To the retirement home. To visit my grandmother," she said.
"May I come with you?"
"Uh…"
"You can say no," he said. "I am sorry. I'm...still learning my boundaries of what's appropriate."
"Boundaries?" she asked. "Is that why you were ignoring me all this time?"
"Not ignoring," he said. "Avoiding. I made you uncomfortable your first day back. I didn't want to do that again."
"Oh," she said. "So, that wasn't because you were getting over Laci?"
"'Getting…over Laci?'" He thought for a m
oment. "Was I under her before?"
Mary snorted, barely managing the sudden fit of laughter.
His face lit up. "I said something that amused you?"
Mary took a deep breath and composed herself. "No. I mean, yeah. Never mind."
"I still don't understand your question."
"It's all right. You answered it." She cleared her throat. "Anyway. About my grandmother. She has Alzheimer's. She takes medication for it, so usually she has good days. But once in a while, she has episodes. She should be okay, but I just wanted to warn you." That might put him off, she thought.
But he answered, "Thank you. I'll be sensitive to the situation."
"Um, okay. I guess," she said. "Anyway, the bus is coming. We'd better get on it."
Carter didn't have a bus pass, so Mary dug around in her bag for change. He watched her for a moment. Then, he opened his wallet and took out a hundred-dollar bill.
"Will this cover my fare?" he asked.
Mary gasped. "Are you nuts? Why are you carrying that much money around with you!" She grabbed his wallet to shove the bill back inside it, and her hand touched his briefly. "Ouch!" she cried, dropping the wallet and the money. She felt like she had touched a car door that had been sitting in the sun too long.
"Are you all right?" Carter asked.
Mary examined her hand. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think you just shocked me or something."
"I am sorry," he said. He looked really concerned. And he didn't pay any attention to his wallet on the ground or the hundred-dollar bill starting to flutter away.
Mary stamped on the bill with her foot to keep it from escaping. She picked it up with the wallet and handed them back to him. "No, it's all right. A day pass is four bucks. Do you have anything smaller?"
Carefully, Carter took the wallet and money without touching her. He stowed the hundred dollars and took out a five-dollar bill instead.
"That's better." Mary told him how to put his money into the machine. It spat out his ticket and four quarters.
Carter looked at the ticket and change in his hands. "Thank you. I am not familiar with this."
"Don't mention it," she said.
When they boarded the bus, they sat across the aisle from each other. Mary watched Carter as the bus moved. He sat with both feet planted on the floor and his hands folded together. He looked out the window, studying everything with quiet fascination. Mary hadn't noticed before, but Carter cleaned up pretty well. The style for a lot of guys seemed to be not to wash their hair regularly, letting it get all greasy and nasty. But Carter's was clean, thick, and a little shiny. And usually at the end of the school day, guys un-tucked their shirts, took off their ties, and rolled up their sleeves. Carter kept everything together, though he did wear that same thick black sweater.
Mary had to admit it. Carter actually looked kinda handsome.
Electronic gunshots caught his attention. Carter turned to the kid in the next seat, who had his nose buried in a handheld game.
"What is that?" he asked.
"Theft," the boy answered without looking up.
"Theft?" he repeated. "Isn't theft wrong?"
"Yeah, but this is just the game," the boy said.
Carter looked at the tiny screen. "You are making that man shoot and kill other people?"
The boy nodded.
Carter looked surprised. More like shocked. "Why?"
The boy shrugged. "It's a game."
Carter thought for a moment. "I thought games were for fun."
"This is."
"Causing harm to people is fun?"
The boy looked at him at last. "Stupid, of course not. But this is just a game. Not like I'm out there really doing it."
Carter thought again. "So, it's okay to pretend to cause harm to people?"
"You don't hear any laws against it, d'ya?" the boy asked.
Carter looked at Mary. "I don't understand."
"Neither do I," she said.
Carter looked over the boy's shoulder at the game again. The boy glared at him before reaching up and pressing the button to let the driver know he wanted to get off. He took his game and mumbled "freak" as he left the bus.
Carter looked at Mary as the bus started moving again. "I offended him, didn't I?"
Mary shrugged. "He'll get over it."
Carter looked back. "That is why I am concerned."
They got off the bus later and walked to Agape. Mary signed her name in the log and then handed the pen to Carter. "Here."
He looked at it. "What do I do with it?"
"You can just sign your name here, honey," Ms. Nancy said, pointing to the logbook.
"Oh." Carefully, he took the pen from Mary. He held it awkwardly at first. Then he managed to scrawl something into the empty space below Mary's name.
"Huh, that's funny," Mary said.
"What?" he asked.
"The way you did your 'C.' It looks similar to the way this other guy signed his name," she said, pointing to the name 'Chris' that appeared a few boxes up.
Carter put the pen down and followed Mary inside. Ba was in the courtyard working on a painting of a vase. Mary walked around to her front and instructed Carter to do the same.
Ba beamed. "Hello, Con. And who is this handsome young man?"
"This is Carter," Mary said. "He goes to my school."
"How nice to meet you. Mary never brings friends to see me," she said, stretching her hand out to shake his.
But rather than take it, Carter slightly bowed from the waist and said, "Chào Bà."
Ba's eyes brightened. "À, cậu nói tiếng Việt hả?"
He nodded. "Da ̣vâng, thưa Bà."
They exchanged a few more words in Vietnamese while Mary's jaw dangled towards the Earth. "I didn't know you could speak Viet."
"You never asked," he said.
They sat down and Carter and Ba kept talking. Mary tried to catch words she understood, but it was hard. Her head just wasn't wired for languages. She had enough trouble with English, as her grades demonstrated. But she understood enough to know that Carter's speech was flawless.
When dinnertime came, Ba asked Carter to join them. Mary hadn't planned to stay for dinner. But since Carter was, she didn't want to leave Ba alone with him. George, Emma, and Julia also met them in the dining room.
"So nice to meet you, Carter," Emma said. "Tell us about yourself."
"Myself?" he asked.
"Yea," George said. "Whaya want with Mary?"
"George!" Julia cried.
"Wha?" George said. They were eating veggie lasagna, so he didn't have his teeth again. "He look like wunnah them—what'd my grandson call 'em? Oh yeah. Players. You a player, son?"
Oh God, Mary thought as she leaned on the table with her head in her hands. Maybe this wasn't a good idea to stay.
"I played basketball," Carter said. "Is that what you mean?"
George squinted. "You makin' fun of me, boy?"
Carter looked surprised. "No sir. I—"
"I fought in Korea!" George growled, brandishing his plastic fork. "Don't mess with me!"
"Calm down, George," Emma said gently. "The boy's all right. He wasn't making fun of you at all."
George didn't say anything, but turned back to his lasagna with a scowl on his face.
Carter looked at the elder man. "You have many great stories from your life. Don't you?"
"Don't get him telling one, though," Julia said. "George'll talk your ear off."
Emma chuckled. "We all got stories, Carter. It's one of the few things we old people got that hadn't broken down with time."
"Speak for yourself," Ba laughed as she tapped her head. Ba seemed to be the only one who could make fun of her condition and it be okay. "I'm doing my best to hold onto mine."
"Can you tell me?" Carter asked. "I'd like to hear all of them."
Emma chuckled. "Baby Boy, you'd be here forever. Why, just us sitting at this table got a few hundred years of stories between us."
"An
d that's without the Pennys," Julia added with a laugh. "Add on another two hundred years for them."
Carter laughed with all of them. "Well, can I hear one? Perhaps from you, Mr. George?"
George slurped up a lasagna noodle. Tomato sauce dribbled down his chin. "Me?"
Carter nodded eagerly. "Yes. What did you do before you went to Korea?"
George looked at him from the corner of his eye. Then he shrugged. "Well, I was about your age when I started workin' at my granddaddy's farm. And lemme tell ya…"
George told several stories in a row. Mary had heard some of them before. But others, like how he'd met his wife Betty—"may her soul rest in peace"—when he accidentally crashed into her at a roller skating rink, were new. Julia argued with George when he exaggerated certain details too much.
Carter listened with acute fascination. He was so wrapped up in George's tales that he hardly ate his dinner.
Afterwards, they played a few rounds of Gin. Julia won most of the time. When bedtime neared, Mary kissed Ba goodnight and left Agape with Carter.
"Your grandmother is a wonderful person. So are her friends," he said as they walked to the bus stop.
"Yeah," she said.
"You look a little different from her," he added. "Your hair is lighter and has some red in it. Your eyes are rounder, too."
"My grandfather was French. I don't know what my father was," she said. "Some combination, huh?"
"Yes. But a good one."
She shrugged. "Depends on who you're talking to. By the way, where did you say you learned Viet?"
"I didn't say."
"Oh, right. So where did you learn?" she asked.
He hesitated for a moment before answering. "I…picked it up."
"From where?"
"From…the ladies at the salon who do my mother's hair."
"You mean your stepmother?" Mary asked.
"Yes," he said. "My stepmother."
"You go with her when she gets her hair done?"
"They cut my hair there, too."
"And you were able to pick up on conversational Viet from just getting your hair cut?"
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