The final bells rings, and I snatch up my backpack, booking it back to my Pre-Calculus classroom. The sooner Dean Howard gives me the retake, the sooner I can leave. I need to catch the late bus, which leaves thirty minutes after the last bell for anyone who can't secure another ride home. Which, today, includes me.
When I get to the room, I sigh. I'm here before Meredith and the dean. I sit in the front row and toss my bag onto the floor, crossing my arms. If Meredith admits that she cheated, maybe I can catch my normal bus and make it to work on time.
I stare at the second hand on the clock as it ticks by. Two minutes later, I'm still alone. And people say I'm a bad influence.
After another minute, Dean Howard comes in and nods at me. He glances around for the obviously absent Meredith. Does she even care about her grade? Or maybe she's accepting failure, since there's no way she can pass without cheating.
It's pathetic, really. Who cheats off me and thinks they are going to get a good grade? I have a notoriously bad reputation in Pre-Calc. Okay, I have a terrible reputation everywhere, but Mrs. Everett hates me.
Maybe that's why Meredith thought she could get away with it. If it hadn't been for Dean Howard stepping in, I'd be suspended and she'd be the one with the A.
"I'll have the test to you in a minute, Carter. I want to give Meredith another—"
As if called in from the gods, Meredith walks into the room. Bubble gum pops out of her mouth, smearing across her matching pink-shaded lips. She stumbles across the room to a seat in the back, nearly missing the chair because she refuses to look up from her phone. She laughs at something, and her fingers click across the screen as she types out a reply.
"Put the phone away, Miss Keltz."
"It's after hours, Howard." She blows another bubble out of her mouth. "You have no jurisdiction over me."
"Then you fail. How's that?" Dean Howard shrugs, like Meredith's answer doesn't matter, but the skin behind his mustache reddens. The color is the only thing giving away how annoyed he is.
I'm with him. She's wasting our time.
Meredith pops her gum again and clicks the button on the top of her phone. Her eyes snap to ours, and her nose scrunches like she's smelled rotten eggs. "I don't get the point. It's obvious who cheated."
"That's what I thought too," I growl, turning around in my seat to watch her.
Everything about her is plastic, down to the turquoise nails she's pasted on. Her eyebrows are fake. Her face is coated in too much tanner and shadow. I'm not sure what Meredith really looks like underneath the blond extensions and toner she uses to mask her reality.
She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Let's just take the test again."
"Admit it, Meredith. Admit it so I can go." I curl my fingers around the back of my chair, hoping that some miracle will happen and she'll actually confess. I know she won't. Meredith asked me for molly once, and when I didn't sell to her, she found someone else who would and has glared at me every single day since. To Meredith, it was an insult. She doesn't care that I have never sold drugs to anyone.
"Admit what, exactly?" She tosses her hair behind her shoulder. It's flat, straight, and perfectly shiny, like someone took shoe polish to it.
Dean Howard clears his throat and passes me a stack of paper. "I have the answer sheet, and I will grade you immediately after you finish. Give me your phones."
I pass mine over to him. Meredith holds up her finger to tell the dean to wait a second. She types out another text. The phone swishes as it sends.
"This is so unfair," she snarls, handing over her phone to the scowling dean. She takes the stack of papers and groans.
I breathe out. Twenty five minutes until the late bus leaves, and this test took me almost forty last time. I focus on my sheet and start calculating each problem one at a time. The questions range from simple to difficult, but none are impossible. I feel like I'm breezing through the test, but when I look back up at the clock, I cringe. I have one last question, and I'm already two minutes too late.
I ball my fists up and hold back a scream. Meredith wants to talk about things being unfair? My pencil cracks in half in my hand.
Dean Howard arches an eyebrow at the sound, eyeing me.
Inhaling, I force myself to work on the last problem and use my half pencil to finish the exam. With shaking hands, I put the pencil down and grab my backpack off the floor. I bring the test up to the dean.
"Wait here." Dean Howard brings out the answer sheet and compares my answers to the ones on his paper. Every single one is correct; there was no point in intentionally missing one this time around, not when the dean watched me retake the exam.
"Thank you for staying, Carter. I'll pass this along to Mrs. Everett and let her know about your new grade." He hands my phone back to me.
I nod, too furious to be grateful. I march out of the room, and as the door closes behind me, I glare at Meredith. She's doodling in the margins of her paper, and the scowl across her face has marred canyons into her skin. Let her fail. She deserves it.
But even if Meredith fails today, it will still somehow be my fault. That's how it works for me.
I head outside, wondering how I'm going to make it to work on time. I have no ride, so I might have to call Desmond. He's not on the schedule tonight, but I could offer him ten bucks to drive me.
As soon as the front door to my school swings shut behind me, a car beeps. Mom's behind the wheel, waving her hands dramatically with narrowed, anxious eyes. I open the door and slide into the passenger's seat. My shoulders hunch as I wait for it.
"What is wrong with you?" She slaps my shoulder. It's not the slap that hurts, but the harshness of her voice becomes the cherry on top of my already shitty day.
"I didn't cheat."
"No?"
I fiddle with the strap of my bag. "The other student did. The test scores this afternoon will prove that."
"Why'd they think it was you?"
I stay quiet.
She reaches up and grasps my chin in her hand, moving my face so that I have to look at her. Her blue eyes peer into mine. Something about my mom looks different today, but I'm not sure what it is. "Why, Carter?"
"Because I'm me."
Her eyes soften, and she pulls me in for a hug. I return it, but I want to get far away from the parking lot, from this school, from my life. After a moment, she lets go. "I'm going to give your teachers a piece of my mind."
"You don't need to go mother bear on—"
"No, I do. I do because they believe you're a bad kid, and that's not okay with me."
I let out a breath. I want to ask her why she never left our small stupid town, but I think I know the answer. Secretly, she hopes her parents will forgive her. When she was seventeen, everything changed for her. Moving would have been one more major change; one more thing she couldn't handle. A person can only take so much upheaval at once.
"It's because of Dad," I mutter. "You know that, right?"
The car is still and silent. I never talk about my dad, and if I do bad mouth him, it's not to my mom. She knows the mistakes he made all too well, and her life was irrevocably changed because of it.
"I'm still going to talk to them." She wraps her hands around the steering wheel, pulling out of the parking lot. Her jaw pulses as she chews on nothing. "You are not your father."
Trying to change the subject, I ask, "How are you here? What happened to work?"
Mom rolls her eyes. Her freckles have a little more brilliance in them, and her skin looks clearer. "Well, I hadn't used a sick day in forever, so I called in sick. Treating myself, you know?" She glances over at me and narrows her eyes. "Not that I approve of you doing the same thing."
"Never."
"Good. Anyway, your school called me in the middle of my bubble bath. Mrs. Everett is something else." She pulls up to a stoplight and taps her fingers on the steering wheel a few times.
"Yeah."
"She and my boss should get together. He tore me a new one, just because I told him I had strep throat."
"He's a tool."
"Exactly."
"Wait." I turn to look at her, because she looks relaxed for the first time in forever. "He didn't fire you, did he?"
She chokes out a laugh and pats my knee. "Still ungainfully employed, I'm afraid."
"Aren't you worried he could? What about money?"
Sighing, she gives me a sideways glance. "You don't have to worry about money all the time, Carter. It's my responsibility, not yours."
She should tell that to the stack of cash I have saved in my closet. "I know, but it's hard, and I want to make sure—"
"Carter James Ortese." She pauses after my full name, putting stress on each word. "You need to focus on yourself and keep your grades up, okay?"
I look out the window.
"Okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I hate when you call me that."
"Which is exactly why I do."
"It's a wonder anyone thinks you're anything less than perfect." She lightly backhands my shoulder. "You have a comeback for everything."
My mind drifts to Emma and how seamlessly our conversation flowed from one topic into another. It was easy talking to her, easier than I had expected. She plays off my words, picks me apart, and leaves me exposed. Which is why I know exactly where I'm taking her this weekend, and it's not the stupid mall.
"I was thinking we could see your grandparents this weekend, if you're up for it."
"I, uh ..."
"Hot date?"
"Well ..."
"We're visiting them on Sunday morning."
I nod. "Okay, yeah, that's fine."
"But seriously, Carter, are you seeing Emma again?" She glances at me, her eyes watery.
"I have the right to remain silent."
"Yes, you do. But if you know me, I will pester you until you tell me everything."
Fiddling with my backpack strap, I do tell her everything to avoid the twenty thousand questions she would ask me later. She seems happy for me, but runs down a long list of everything I should avoid doing with Emma. My mom is shameless on the details.
"Mom, it's our second date."
"Okay, okay. But I know how teenagers are. I mean, I used to be one."
"I'm not my dad, remember?"
Her lips press into a thin line. "And thank goodness for that," she says on a quiet breath.
Her answer startles me, because she rarely bad mouths him either. What is my mom not telling me? The rumors about Adam James Ortese are endless. My father and his brother, David, ruined lives, but Mom avoids the topic most of the time. To her, Adam was kind, nice, fun. To her, Adam was my father. But who was Adam Ortese really?
After all, I know for a fact that rumors can't be trusted.
- - - - -
Is Carter's mom ever going to open up about what happened all those years ago? Are you excited for the second date? Where, exactly, is Carter going to take Emma? And who is worse: Meredith, Stacy, or Georgia?
Don't forget to vote and follow to get the updates!