Chapter 4
"You going to be all right on your own?"
Holly Dae and Nik lingered by the gym entrance, watching me mop the floor with matching concern etched on their faces. The two had changed out of their gym clothes and back into their regular attire.
My hand wiped across my damp forehead, the gesture coming across as more resigned than confident. "Seriously, don't worry about it. You guys can head out."
Nik, arm draped around Holly Dae, offered, "You sure? I could stay back, give you a ride home."
Holly Dae nodded vigorously, their sympathy palpable. I could tell they felt bad about what happened earlier.
Attempting a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, I insisted, "I'm positive, go on without me!"
"Well, we're hanging out at The Grill. You should join us when you're done," Holly Dae said gingerly. They both left after that.
Coach Keller's order was to have the floor spotless, an expectation that carried a not-so-subtle threat of detention should anything remain amiss. I dropped to my knees, armed with a sponge, and began scrubbing the floor with diligence.
For the next ten minutes, I was mopping the floors until I heard his booming voice from behind me, "I hope next time you keep your smart ass comments to yourself."
"Yes, Coach." Sometimes, agreeing was wiser than arguing—I'd learned that the hard way.
Coach gave a brief look at his watch. "You can go now," he grumbled.
Before he could change his mind, I smiled and sprinted to grab my bag. It was almost three in the afternoon, which meant I had to get to work. School had ended about forty minutes ago, and I suspected Dad was wondering about my whereabouts.
I didn't have the heart to explain that it was because I had thrown up in gym class earlier today. It was just one in the afternoon and I was already on the verge of passing out.
My class stood in a line outside, chins lifted and hands at our sides as if we were being inspected for military service.
"Stand still!" Coach Keller barked, pacing with hands behind his back, a short man with an equally short temper. "Now, it's come to my attention that many of you don't take gym class seriously," he said, his gaze pointedly directed at me.
Beside me, Holly Dae struggled to suppress her laughter. While I wanted to join in, my baggy sweatpants required me to suck in my stomach to prevent them from sagging, a stolen hand-me-down from Montgomery.
"But that's going to change today," Coach declared, treating us like a band of unruly children.
My legs trembled as we stood for what felt like hours, enduring Coach's lecture on the importance of physical education. To stave off leg cramps, I hopped up and down, feeling the chill of the wind on my cheeks.
"We're going to run a few laps around the field and we're not going to stop, not even if it kills us." Coach was practically frothing around the mouth.
There were some stories as to how he ended up being this bitter in life. My favorite one was his wife leaving him for his hotter brother and taking the kids with her.
But on that particular day, standing in the freezing cold, I figured Coach was just an arrogant prick, like most high school teachers, who liked to take out their anger on students.
"This year, things are going to be different. Mark my words. And I don't want to see a single phone in my class, nor do I want any crappy excuses as to why you can't play. Because guess what? I don't give a damn about your period! Periods are just excuses women use nowadays to get away with everything, but not in this class."
Holly Dae beside me muttered something under her breath that strangely sounded like 'incel'.
Coach's gaze turned on her. "What was that?"
Holly Dae cleared her throat, her posture rigid. "Nothing, please continue."
Nik, standing beside her, couldn't contain his chuckle.
"Nikolai, ten laps. Now."
Nik clenched his fists, defiance etched onto his face. "And why's that?"
Beside him, Holly Dae and I exchanged shocked glances. Nobody ever dared to challenge Coach, because we all understood the consequences.
"Because it seems you treat everything as a joke. Now, you run or you help me clean after school. It's your choice."
Holly Dae gripped Nik's sleeve. "Sir, it's my fault. I should be the one running."
Coach's grin turned smug. "Great, run together then. Off you go!
Holly Dae and Nik simultaneously rolled their eyes, and then pushed off their feet and started to move. Coach barked from behind them, "Faster!" His voice cracked hideously.
My classmates snickered at his voice crack, but I was the one who laughed the loudest. I think it's because I was watching Holly Dae desperately stumbling alongside Nik. If there was anything she despises more than her mom's boyfriend, it was running.
Coach turned as red as the shoes he was wearing that day. "You mind sharing what's so funny?"
"Nothing, sir," I replied, my gaze lingering on the distant dots of Holly Dae and Nik. The sight brought another burst of laughter from me.
"Since you're so interested, why not join them? Off you go."
My jaw went slack. "W-wait," I spluttered. "That's not fair."
"What's not fair, Max, is that you keep interrupting my class. Either you join your friends, or you stay after school and help clean the gym. Your choice."
"I'll stay behind and help clean up." Running on a windy field was the last thing I wanted, especially in last year's sneakers that cramped my toes.
"Just for arguing with me, you're going to run for an hour and help me clean up after school. Now hurry up and stop wasting my time," Coach barked.
I looked down the line at my classmates. Miles was scowling at Coach. I knew he was going to say something snarky, not because he cared about me, but because, without any reason, he liked to start drama.
As I saw his mouth open, I dashed forward, hollering, "Hey, wait for me!" My legs instantly ignited with pain. Nik had no trouble running; he'd been on the track team in middle school.
"Don't stop!" Coach's voice pierced the air from behind. I cast a glance over my shoulder to see him watching us like a hawk. A few sympathetic looks came from our classmates, but nobody dared to intervene. That's just the way things were with Coach. "If you stop, I'll add another thirty minutes!"
If Coach was trying to threaten us into submission, then it was working. I pushed past Holly Dae and Nik, my strides quick and laborious as I traversed the field back and forth. My calves and knees were hurting.
I was mentally kicking myself for not joining Nik on his morning runs. I laughed in his face when he proposed the idea a few months ago. The idea of joining him on his morning runs seemed absurd at the time. Yet, as I struggled to keep up with Holly Dae and Nik on the freezing field, I couldn't shake the thought that maybe I should've taken him up on his offer.
Sweat beads trickled down my brow, stinging my eyes. As my classmates engaged in warm-up exercises, some of the guys spared a laugh at my expense. Harry joined in the amusement, his eyes reflecting pity though he remained quiet.
"Keep going!" Coach meant to encourage me, but it only fuelled my frustration.
This had to be illegal. I'd have rather he given me a death sentence because this felt quite worse than death.
I became increasingly thirsty and fatigued with each step I made. My arms swung around my shoulders like huge logs. It's not like I've never experienced agony before. I'd known Coach Keller long enough to be used to this kind of treatment, but I'd never experienced it quite like this. Nausea and dizziness gripped me.
"I can't," I panted through shallow breaths, stumbling to a stop in front of Coach. Kneeling, I readied myself to beg for relief, even offer to shine his shoes in exchange. Words slurred, a queasy sensation rising in my throat, and then, I puked all over him.
So with a great start to my morning, I was limping my way to Dad's store. It was supposed to be Miles' turn today, but he made some lame excuse about one of his friends needing a ride somewhere out of town. I just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, forget about the horrors of today and drift into a numbing sleep, but I couldn't let Dad down. So, I reluctantly pulled my feet up to our store.
Rifling through my backpack, I searched for the keys, only to find the door ajar. Dad had beaten me to it, absorbed in a song playing on his iPod, a recent gift from me for his birthday. He played such a big role in my life, and the prospect of letting him down terrified me.
And that was the one thing that tied me down to this place. He strongly disapproved the idea of me moving away. Senior year started a couple of weeks ago and I tried to subtly bring the idea up to him, but Dad just looked at me as if I had shot and killed his grandmother. Since then, I'd been wary of bringing up the subject in front of him, but it was always at the back of my mind.
There was nothing that would convince me to stay in that shitshow of a town.
"They invented something called earphones, you know. Might be worth a shot," I quipped, dropping my bag to the floor.
Dad, busy arranging cans of pasta sauce, responded with a playful smile, "Nobody else seems to mind, except you."
In all honesty, I didn't mind Dad's music because it was better than having to put up with Miles' dreadful music taste. Dad was adamant about not scheduling us on the same shifts again, a preventative measure after the salad dressing and flour fiasco that resulted from our last shift.
I turned to plug my phone into an outlet. Dad was staring strangely at me after I turned back to face him.
"Something on your mind?"
"Why were you late to work today?" He didn't sound mad, just curious. Dad had enough faith in us to make our own decisions, so long as I didn't come home pregnant or Miles didn't run over a cat with his car again.
"Oh, I went over to Holly Dae's place to babysit Brody. She's headed out on a date with Nik."
Dad nodded and left it at that. He was well aware of how crazy her mom could get. He proceeded to the back of the store, arranging cans as he went. As I returned to my station behind the counter, a sight unfolded that plunged my heart into my stomach.
The boy from Kent's store had just walked into the store. Carson.
Maybe he hadn't noticed me standing by the counter. I watched as he examined the array of drinks in the refrigerator. I swore quietly under my breath. I was still humiliated by what had happened last time, so I did what anyone in this situation would do.
I bent down and ducked behind the counter.
II looked awful and reeked of vomit and sweat. I couldn't bear the thought of him witnessing me in such an utterly grotesque condition. The whole cigarette fiasco had me recoiling in embarrassment, like an exposed nerve.
Amidst Dad's choice of music, a sweet voice wove its way into the air, harmonizing with the melodies that resonated throughout the room. It was Carson, his voice intertwined with a Beatles classic. Dad's affinity for the band was no secret; their timeless tunes served as the soundtrack to our home life.
Carson shockingly had a great singing voice. I couldn't help but entertain the notion of him joining Miles' band — a thought that provoked a quiet chuckle that I hastily stifled with a hand pressed to my mouth.
"You right there, pal?" Dad insisted on calling everyone pal.
Stealing a glance over the counter, I saw Carson standing slightly adrift, a bottle of water in hand, an aura of mild unease surrounding him.
"I'm alright," he said.
Dad, ever the inquisitive soul, couldn't resist probing further. "I've never seen you before, and I know just about everyone in this town."
I overheard Carson say, "I'm not from around here."
The sound of feet shuffling on the floor could be heard. I started gnawing on my fingernails. It was a nasty habit I had developed.
"Really? Where're you from?" Dad always pried in people's business. He just didn't know when to stop.
"Davenport."
"That's the next town over. What in God's name are you doing here?"
My ears strained again, tuning in to Carson's reply. "I landed a job as a mechanic here. I chip in wherever I'm needed."
"With that Kent kid, right?"
"Yeah."
"Davenport is like a forty minute drive from here." Dad was right about that. Our town was surrounded by vast woodland. Depending on traffic, the nearest town was a forty to an hour drive.
"I'm aware," said Carson. "I work two jobs. One here as a mechanic, and one in Davenport as a waiter."
"Two?" Dad exclaimed, probably thinking about how lazy his own children were. I'm sure Dad was looking forward to getting home and lecturing us.
"Yeah, I kind of need the money." Carson sounded sheepish.
"Planning to buy a Tesla?" Dad laughed at his terribly cringeworthy joke.
Carson chuckled as well, although it was more out of politeness than anything. "Money's a little tight right now," is all he said.
"I just worry about the commute — all that money spent on gas. I mean, I'm always telling Max here—" Dad's voice trailed off as he realized my absence.
My stomach flipped and did a somersault.
"Max?" Dad called again.
"Right here." I rose from my crouched position and dusted myself off.
The store went silent. Dad had switched off the music and was frowning at me deeply.
Carson's attention was drawn to me. His face lit up with recognition.
Flustered, I lowered my head, seeking refuge behind the curtain of my tousled hair, muttering almost incoherently, "I was looking for something."
Yeah, what was left of my dignity.
"Carson, this is my daughter, Maxine. She helps around the store sometimes."
"Just Max," I muttered, still refusing to look at Carson, because I could feel his heated gaze on me.
As he continued to interrogated Carson, I looked at Dad and attempted to persuade him to stop with my eyes. I felt bad for Carson, but he didn't seem like he minded. He had an aloof demeanour to him.
"Your parents okay with the daily drive?" Dad asked, his piercing blue eyes narrowing, a gesture that many remarked made us look eerily alike.
Carson, glancing at me briefly, replied, "I only work a couple of shifts per week."
"Quite a commitment. Kent's a nice fella, isn't he?"
"Kent's good to work with," Carson replied. I could tell he was itching to escape.
"He used to be friends with my eldest son Montgomery before he moved to the city. I tell ya what—,"
"Dad, did you hear that? I think I heard a stray cat outside."
Dad's monologue stopped, and he gave me a quizzical look. "A stray cat?" he echoed.
I was nodding vigorously. I snuck a glance at Carson, who looked at me with a bit of an amused smile — but I could tell he was grateful. He had a rather lovely smile. It made me want to smile, too.
"Yes. Remember what happened last time? It broke in and destroyed the entire place. Better check it out."
Dad looked grave. Nothing meant more to him than this store. "You're correct, sweetheart. I'm on it." And with that declaration, he twisted on his heels and headed out the backdoor like a man on a mission.
Alone with Carson, my gaze returned to him, meeting his steady stare. A bottle of water slid across the counter. "I'll take a Marlboro," he requested, nodding toward the shelf behind me.
"I.D, please." I stuck out my hand. I was being pretentious for the sake of being pretentious. This was usually the case when I was bored.
His lips curved into a subtle smile, a gesture that piqued my curiosity. Was he amused or intrigued? He began checking his washed-out jeans' pockets, pulling out his battered wallet, and then handing me his I.D.
Now, it was his turn to avoid meeting my gaze. He glanced around the store over his shoulder, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the counter. Sneaking a look, I scoffed—there was no way he was in his twenties; he had to be my age, if not younger.
"I'm not allowed to sell this to you. I'm not eighteen yet," I stated firmly and tipped my chin up.
His endearing smile returned. "I won't tell if you won't."
For a long time, we both stared at each other. He said that exact thing to me the first time we met. I averted my gaze and examined the cigarette packet. I wanted to see if he would back down. His unwavering stare, piercing and defiant, flushed my cheeks, forcing me to clench my fists to ward off the urge to nibble my nails.
"Nine fifty," I said, sliding back the I.D. With a gruff thanks, he retrieved the pack, avoiding my gaze.
Leaning against the counter, I asked, "What's the story, Carson? Fake I.D. or secret life?"
He chuckled, the sound low and resonant. "Keep guessing, Max."
I couldn't resist pressing further. "I'm a sucker for a good mystery. Give me a clue."
Carson took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled around him like a phantom veil. Instead of answering, he slapped a handful of money on the counter and then strolled away. His hands were jammed deep in his pockets, and he moved with a languid stride, as if he had all the time in the world.
My eyes remained locked on his receding figure until he vanished from view. What is it about him that was so... alluring? It could have been because he was a breath of fresh air in a town where nearly no one had moved. A pleasant surprise, good on the eyes, and distinct in every ear. He didn't appear to be the kind to get caught up in trivial small town gossip. It meant he had no idea what was being said about my family or me.
Whatever it was, a small part of me wanted to see him again.
The cynical part of my brain told me that I was being foolish and naive yet again. I had a boyfriend to focus on.
The events of the day swirled in my mind, and a knot of frustration tightened in my stomach.
So, I took out my phone and sent a text to Harry.