Waterproof

TWENTY-SEVEN

"Okay. Give me the phone," Sarah said, holding her hand out expectantly.

Carson ignored the hand and tossed it into her lap, looking like he was about to crack and laugh.

Sarah death glared him. "Jerk wad."

Carson did explode, then. His laughter was loud, taking up every corner of the room. I smiled at how carefree he looked then. "I was really hoping for a better insult this time," he snickered.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'm not allowed to cuss in front of Elle."

"Why not?" I interjected.

"It was a rule of Josie's. She always thought you were much more innocent than you ever have been."

"Sounds like her," I said.

Carson nodded. "Yeah." A long pause. "Alright then, get on with it!"

Sarah shook her head, as if getting rid of the thoughts that were there. "Right. Sorry."

She plugged Lakyn's phone into the computer with a charging cord. "Now we wait," Sarah shrugged, grabbing a handful of cheddar chips.

"How long does it take?" Carson reached into the bag as well, and I rolled my eyes. He'd already eaten one bag by himself in the forty minutes it had taken Sarah to get everything set up.

"Twenty is the average. But this is a fairly new phone, so it might take less than that."

I nodded. "So what do we do now?" I asked.

Carson raised his hand. I pretended to scan the imaginary audience behind him before my eyes settled on him. "Yes, boy with the blue shirt."

Sarah wasn't amused, or that I could tell. She scoffed as Carson grinned. Carson wasn't affected by Sarah's bad sense of humor. Or her good sense of humor. Maybe Carson and I had the bad one. "I vote watch an episode of American Vandal."

"That would depend on what season," I countered.

"Season one," Sarah shrugged. "Obviously."

"True," I nodded. "Dez is in it."

Sarah didn't know who I was talking about. I was starting to think that Carson didn't either, but after a few second of studying him, I saw the recognition light up his face. "Austin and Ally!"

"Yes!"

We both went in for a high five. I looked at his elbow in order to hit him the most accurately. One of my old friends from Junior year had taught me that, but we don't talk as much anymore now that our classes aren't even relatively close.

The slap of the high five almost made me deaf for a minute. "Solid!" Carson seemed proud. Whether it was of himself or the fact that I'd actually managed to do a decent job (Which was truly a miracle. I had the worst aim. I couldn't get the soccer ball into a net from six feet away), I wasn't sure.

But I was proud of myself. That had to count for something.