Carter laid stretched across three steps in front of the National Museum of American History, sunglasses on and her hands stuffed in her coat pockets. The conversations of her fellow classmates filled the air and clashed with the rushing of cars nearby. Warm spring sunlight poured over them as they waited. Her phone rang and she brought it to her ear.
"Hello," she said, her voice bland.
"Sarge, did I wake you?" her father asked.
"Yes."
"Carter, you are suppose to be at school," her father said.
"Dang, I knew there was some reason I set an alarm. It's too late to do anything about it now. I'll just skip today, I guess. It's not like I actually learn anything there."
"Sarge, get out of bed. Now." her father said, his voice firm.
"Calm down Captain, I'm not actually in bed. I'm at the National Museum of American History."
"Why are you there?"
"I'm protesting the government letting idiots voice their opinions on the internet."
"Carter."
"I'm on a field trip for my history class," she said.
"Did I sign off on this?" her father asked.
"Yup, right after you signed over all the bank accounts to me."
"Carter-"
"You should really read the fine print. And if you're calling to let me know you're not coming home today, then you should expect to have to pick the front door lock when you get back, because I will have changed it."
Her father let out a soft chuckle and Carter smiled.
"I'll be home tonight. You don't need to change the locks just yet," her father said.
"Should I expect you coming home in a car or dropping out of a helicopter?"
"Car, if I'm not pressed for time."
"Okay, I'll see you tonight, unless I get bludgeoned with my own sign by the idiots of America."
"If you can't defend yourself against a couple idiots, then maybe you deserve to die," her father said.
"Very true. See you later Captain."
"Love you, Sarge."
"Love you too."
Carter pocketed her phone and went back to ignoring the world and the odd looks from her peers. Footsteps approached her and she smirked.
"You do realize that if you keep hanging out with me people will assume we are friends," Carter said, without opening her eyes.
"The thought did cross my mind, yes," Link said, sitting down beside her. "How did you-"
"You always smell like soap and Donovan wears a subtle cologne," she said.
Donovan took a seat next to Link, his face expressionless. Link studied Carter.
"How are you laying like that? It looks uncomfortable," Link said.
"This is nothing. Try sleeping on a rock ledge."
"Favorite pass time?" Link asked.
"My father's idea of a fun outing. Before the rock ledge there was a twelve mile hike with a pack that weighed as much as me. Let's just say I've learned to adjust to uncomfortable situations."
Link opened his mouth to respond, but Mr. Philips stepped before the group, a clipboard in hand.
"Everyone should be here now. I'm going to take role and then we will move inside," their history teacher said.
He started listing off names and receiving shouts of 'here' in response.
"Lucas Benton?"
"Here," a mocking voice said.
Carter grimaced.
"I hate when our classes are combined," she said.
Link nodded.
"Link Evans?"
He raised his hand. "Here."
Mr. Philips continued down the role, talking over the whispered conversations.
"Maddy Hooper?"
"Here," a feminine voice said.
Link looked around, searching for the source of the voice.
"Donovan Keller?"
"Here," Donovan said, his deep voice carrying over the hum of voices.
"Did you feel that?" Carter asked.
Both Donovan and Link looked at her. Link frowned.
"Feel what?" he asked.
"Fifty sets of female eyes shifting to where we are sitting," Carter said.
Link started to laugh, glancing around, but stopped.
"How could you possibly know that?" Link asked, astonished. "You weren't even looking."
Carter smirked.
"Because he's the new hot guy," she said. "And we are in open territory. I predict five seconds after the role is finished some girl will come say hi. They will also leave blushing when Donovan gives them his signature blank stare."
Link grinned.
"Carter Owens?"
"Present in body, but not in mind or spirit," she said.
"Understood," Mr. Philips said, before moving onto the next name.
The final 'here' was said and Mr. Philips called everyone's attention.
"Alright," he said. "We are going to take a tour through the museum. Stay with the group. If you are found wandering off, you immediately get an F on your essay. Is that understood?"
Heads bobbed and a few students muttered assent. Mr. Philip studied the group of students for a second longer than nodded.
"Okay. Let's go. Stay together."
He turned and started leading the way up to the museum. Carter stood and carelessly brushed herself off. A red haired girl with freckles walked over to Donovan.
"Hey," she said, eyes bright. "We have English together. Walk with me?"
The girl hooked her arm through Donovan's. Carter laughed at the strain around Donovan's mouth and the girl shot Carter a fiery glare. The group moved forward, clusters of students bunching together. Carter fell in behind with Link, but paused at the sight of two black SUVs stopping at the curb. Men in black suits and earpieces stepped out.
"Who-" Link started to say.
"Apparently Mason is coming on this little field trip," Carter said.
Mason appeared from the first car and the men formed a barrier around him. As the group moved forward, Carter smiled. An agent on the side, with dark skin, noticed Carter and nodded. She fell into step with them, Link beside her.
"Hey Curtis. Who did you piss off to get stuck on babysitting duty?" she asked.
The tall, bald man grinned at Carter.
"Pleasure seeing you as always, Carter."
Curtis's attention flickered to Link and surprise flashed across his face.
"This is Link by the way," Carter said. "No threat there."
Link waved. Curtis nodded to him, a slightly puzzled look lingering in his gaze.
"Are you doing the training course this Saturday?" Carter asked, drawing Curtis's attention back.
"Anderson still mad you got the drop on him?" Curtis asked, grinning.
Carter shook her head in exasperation.
"You would think the man would understand I have almost as much training as he does."
Curtis chuckled.
"I'll be there. Steve home yet?" he asked.
"No, but he should be tonight. If he's not, I'll kill him."
"I have no doubt about that."
The sound of the busy street was muffled as they moved into the museum. Past the entrance the building opened up, showcasing three floors of balconies. The sound of voices and the scuffing of shoes on tile resounded through the place. At the center of the entrance was a large pedestal with a elephant frozen in place onto top. As they moved forward Mason turned to Carter, smirking.
"Owens, you trying to get to me through my agent is real cute, but it won't work," he said.
She looked him up and down, her expression bored.
"Careful Mason, your ego is showing," she said. "Remember you're in public. If your future constituents hear you, they might realize that you are actually a narcissist."
Mason's face turned red, as his jaw clenched. Curtis looked to Carter.
"Maybe for safeties sake you should walk further up," he said.
She gave him a skeptical look.
"I'm saying this for his sake," Curtis said. "You should walk further up."
Carter nodded and smiled at Curtis.
"See you again Saturday," she said, walking backwards. "Try not to strangle him when he gets annoying. I hear you don't get a good reference letter when that happens."
Curtis saluted her. Link sidled closer to Carter.
"Do you know everyone?" he asked, glancing back at the barrier of secret service agents.
She shrugged and looked around.
"Kind of. I do training courses with my dad and some of the guys he works with," she said.
"Another fun outing?"
"No, this is a favorite pass time of mine."
Donovan appeared, a slight frown marring his features. Carter glanced around.
"Did you kill the red head and just stash her body in that closet?" she asked. "Because they do eventually find those things."
Donovan gave her a blank look. She held up her hands.
"Just asking," she said.
*****************
The tour guide's voice filled the room, rattling off information. Carter made a slow circle, her attention jumping from one display case to the next. She moved through the years, looking at the objects that had been the highlight of the time. Halfway around the room she looked at the entrance and paused. A beefy man in a janitors uniform approached Mr. Philips and shook his hand. Link stopped by Carter's side, glancing between Carter and Mr. Philips.
"What is it?" Link asked.
Still staring at Mr. Philips, Carter shook her head.
"Nothing," Carter said. "Mr. Philips is just talking to an former military soldier."
Link scowled in puzzlement.
"How-"
"See those scars at the base of his neck," Carter said.
Small inch scars ran along the man's neck and down beneath his shirt. Link nodded.
"It's from shrapnel," she said.
After a second, she turned away and continued studying the artifacts.
"Alright," the tour guide said. "Let's move to the next room."
As the group entered the next section of the museum, Carter branched off, looking over the displays. Link and Donovan walked with her. Link's attention jumped between reading the plaques and tracking Maddy through the group. After he looked back to her for the eighth time, Carter rounded on him.
"Just go talk to her," she said.
Link started, his expression surprised.
"What are you talking about?"
Carter glared at him.
"You would think that a week would be a long enough for you to learn to stop asking dumb questions like that."
Link let out a shaky laugh and pushed up his glasses.
"Right," he said.
His gaze flickered to Maddy, but he made no move to approach her.
"It went well helping her with a couple calculus questions, didn't it?" Carter asked.
Link nodded.
"Then go talk to her," she said, waving her hand in Maddy's direction.
Link fidgeted, but didn't move.
"Link if you don't go talk to her now I will punch you," she said. "I should remind you, I punch like a girl. A girl trained by a Navy Seal."
Link looked at her and she raised a fist. He nodded and walked over to Maddy, hastily brushing off his jacket as he went. Donovan stood beside Carter, watching Link go, his hands in his pockets. The tour guide droned on, his voice ringing off the stone walls and only heard by a few eager students. Parents meandered about, trying to bring interest to their children but failing.
"I still don't understand why you two are hanging out with me," she said, glancing over at him. "You do understand that I'm a social pariah, right?"
Donovan looked at her, his face unreadable.
"Of your own making," he said.
"What makes you say that? I could simply be a misunderstood person."
"You talk too much to be misunderstood," Donovan said.
"Then I'm an open book and people reject me for who I am."
"You're too blunt for people to get close to knowing you."
She studied him. He held her gaze, a cool intelligence in his eyes. She broke away first. A group of girls walked past them, giving him flirty looks.
"Well, maybe I'm too blunt, but that hasn't stopped either of you from hanging out with me. Bringing me back to the fact, that you realize associating with me will damage your prospects of friends." Carter paused. "Okay, it wouldn't affect you, but it will affect Link."
"What makes you say that?"
"Your good looks, athletic physique and impassive, moody exterior will constantly have girls surrounding you." She crossed her arms and shrugged. "Apparently, they find it irresistible."
Donovan's mouth twitched.
"I'm moody?" he asked.
"You come off seeming moody. Which is not the same, but girls don't know that."
"You don't believe I'm moody?"
She let out a laugh. Students closest to them sent them odd looks, but she ignored them.
"I know you're not moody," she said. "You're too in control of your emotions for that. It's part of the persona you are conveying."
"I convey a moody persona?"
"No, you convey a persona of being uninterested, in control and better than everyone else. Moody, to the unintelligent observer. The first part is faked, the other two are real."
"What makes you think that?" he asked, his tone emotionless.
"I've studied people long enough to know when they are faking it, putting on false personalties. Seriously, I go to high school with politician's kids."
Donovan's face was expressionless.
"Carter, did it ever occur to you that I'm a shy person and I'm not comfortable talking to people I don't know?" he asked.
"Not even for the tiniest of seconds."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Shy people struggle with reading social cues and low self-esteem. You are neither of those."
"I'm quiet then."
Carter pointed at him.
"You didn't say quiet, you said shy. Which you could be, but something about it isn't real. Which leads me to believe you're hiding something."
"Do you have this feeling about everyone else, or just me?"
"Oh everyone else is hiding something. What, is usually easy to see. With you, it's not." Carter cocked her head. "What are you hiding, Donovan Keller?"
He stared her down, his blue eyes battling her own, though his face remained blank.
"Why do you force away friendships, Carter Owens?"
She stared at him, her look challenging. He met the look, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts. The tour guide called for the group to move on and the room began to empty. Link moved over to them and paused.
"What did I miss?" he asked, looking between them.
The tension vanished and Donovan broke away.
"Nothing," he said. "We should move on."
Link and Donovan joined the group. Carter watched them for a moment, before following.
******************
Carter slammed her fist into the punching bag, sending it swaying slightly. Sweat beaded on her forehead and ran down her temple. Music blared through the apartment, the pulse keeping time with her heart. Outside the sky was dark, lights from neighboring buildings shining in the night. She spun and brought her leg up, kicking the taunt leather. As the bag came back towards her, she punched it again.
The front door opened and closed, but Carter barely noticed. A second later, her bed room door opened and her father stepped inside. He smiled at the sight of Carter in her school uniform, pounding the punching bag. He stepped over to her desk and shut off her music. Carter didn't turn around, her features screwed into a scowl. Her father pulled out a chair and sat down, resting his laced fingers on his stomach.
"How was school?" he asked.
Carter turned around and slammed her elbow into the bag.
"Interesting," her father said. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Carter gave the bag a quick 1- 2 punch.
"Feet closer together," her father said. "Swing from your core, not your shoulder."
Carter adjusted her feet and hit the bag again.
"It's about a boy," her father said. "That's a new one."
Carter turned, putting her hands on her hips. Strands of hair fell into her face, but she ignored them.
"How do you even know that?" she asked.
"You forgot who taught you to read people. And the fact that I've been reading you your whole life." Carter gave him a flat look. "Your form is sloppy and your punches lack any concentration. Your mind is not in this. Do you want to talk about it?"
Carter ripped off her gloves and threw them on the bed.
"How do you trust someone you know is lying to you?"
Her father's face went serious, as he leaned forward over his knees.
"Are they lying or with holding information?"
Carter tossed up her hands.
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes," her father said. "Someone might withhold information about their past or who they are to protect themselves. That doesn't necessarily mean they are lying. You sense this and take it as lying."
"But how is it not lying? They aren't telling me who they are."
Her father looked at her with an even gaze.
"Sarge, have you told these people about your mother?" he asked.
Carter froze, her fingers tightening into fists. Her father raised an eyebrow and she let out a frustrated breath.
"No."
"Why not? Why haven't you divulged everything about your past to them?"
She sank onto her bed.
"Sarge. Trust is a difficult thing when you can read so much in someone's face or body language, but that doesn't mean it can't be there. You have to give trust to gain it. Understand?"
She nodded solemnly.
Her father sat back in his chair, his expression softening.
"Now," he said. "What did I miss?"
A smile crept onto Carter's face as her eyes held a look of surprise and disbelief.
"I think I made friends."
**********************************************************************
Waterloo! (Just cause I like the sound)
Okay, so in my garage there is a ton of furniture, bookshelves and machinery. (The reason why is a really long story that I won't bore you with) Besides being unbelievably crowded, it's also dark, with no over head lighting. So! Whenever I have to go and get something that is in the far back, I imagine I'm some sort of explorer or adventurer because I have to climb over stuff and slid through small gaps! Make everyday an adventure, right?! Well, that's where my imagination takes me. Where does yours take you?
Go triumph, give rousing speeches, and chase the sun!