“You ready to go?” Logan asks, looking from me to Mark.
“Can you give us a minute?” I ask glaring at my brother to leave me alone for five minutes so that I can say yes without having to be teased about it the rest of the night.
“Can’t do that. We have to get home, have a busy afternoon planned,” Carter says, staring at Mark as he pulls me tighter into his chest. I don’t know why he’s acting like this. He loves to tease me and torture me, but he’s not interested in me. I can tell from the way that Mark is looking at him and then to me that he thinks we are together. We aren’t.
“I should go. I have practice. I’ll catch you later Victoria,” Mark says, turning around and jogging quickly in the opposite direction.
“Mark wait,” I shout as I run after him, but Logan steps in front of me blocking my path and Mark doesn’t turn around or hesitate for a second.
“What are you doing?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Mark Wagner really? You want to date Mark Wagner? You do realize that guy has slept with half of the girls in this school and that all he wants to do is get in your pants,” Logan says.
I frown. “So? Maybe I want to sleep with him.”
“No, you don’t,” Carter says from behind me.
I turn and glare at him too. “You guys can’t tell me who I can and can’t date.”
Logan sighs. “Come on, Carter promised his mom he’d be home early today to babysit the new foster kids.”
I grab my backpack off the hook and then slam my locker shut. I’ll argue with Logan later once we drop off Carter. Once we are home and I’m alone I can call Mark to tell him yes.
“Here let me help you,” Carter says grabbing my backpack out of my hands.
He swings my backpack over his shoulder along with his own as all three of us start walking down the hallway toward the parking lot where Logan’s 1994 Buick LeSabre sits.
I raise an eyebrow at Carter not understanding at all why he’s offering to carry my backpack. That is something nice people do or boys do when they are dating someone. It’s not something that Carter does.
“I can carry my own bag, thanks,” I say reaching out to grab my backpack back but Carter grips it tighter.
I exhale deeply and give up. It’s not worth the fight anyway. I’m just glad that he’s going to be at home tonight instead of over at our house like usual. I could use a break from him.
We get to the Buick, Logan climbs into the driver’s seat while Carter opens the back door for me. I climb in giving him an what the hell has gotten into you stare. He hands me my backpack before closing the door and climbing in the front seat. Logan puts the ke
y in the ignition and we all cross our fingers while we wait for the engine to purr to life. When it does, we all sigh in relief that we don’t have to spend the afternoon walking the five miles home.
Carter turns the radio on to some hip-hop station. Neither Logan nor I like hip hop but it helps Carter relax, which is what he’s going to need if he’s going to survive an entire night at home. We all sit in relative silence, the music the only thing keeping us company until Logan pulls up in front of Carter’s trailer and turns the car off. Carter stares at the front door, but doesn’t move to jump out.
Our home life isn’t great, but Carter’s is far, far worse. He became a foster child when he was six. His foster parents have basically treated him as free labor and a welfare check ever since. He rarely stays at home, usually sleeping on our couch or in Logan’s bedroom. Today is one of the rare occasions when he’s required to be home. He’s supposed to babysit his foster siblings.
Carter exchanges a glance with Logan and then opens the door and climbs out of the car. He doesn’t say anything and we don’t either. We don’t say good luck dodging his foster father’s beatings. We don’t say keep your cool while the people that are supposed to be your parents throw all their money away on the slots instead of providing food and clothes for you. We don’t say anything because despite not having to worry about getting beat, our life isn’t much better. So we just watch Carter walk up to the door and disappear inside.
Logan doesn’t start the car up again. Instead, we just sit outside and hope that Carter comes back. Even I, who hates Carter’s guts and wishes I had some time to myself without having to worry about what stupid pranks he and my brother are going to pull on me, would rather have him here than getting beat.
“Why did you and Carter try to get between me and Mark?” I ask as I climb into the front seat.
“You’re too young to date,” Logan says ignoring me and staring at the door. He seems more worried than usual about his friend.
“I’m fifteen! That’s plenty old enough. You started dating way before that.”
“Yea and I shouldn’t have. You don’t want to end up like Amber, do you?”
I frown. “I’m not stupid enough to get pregnant in high school like my sister did.”
He finally looks at me. “You’re not having sex or dating until you’re in college.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father. You’re only two years older than me.”