Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

“That’d be a grisly way to go, wouldn’t it?” he remarks, shaking his head. “Free fall then splat.” Missing a beat, he says, “Anyway, while your overwhelming team spirit is a nice pick-me-up, that’s not what I wanted from you. After the game, we’re all getting together for a party at Erika’s house. I want you to come.”

“I think you already invited me to this,” I tell him. “In any case, the answer was ‘no thanks.’”

Nodding once, he says, “Yeah, I remember, I just figured I’d give you a chance to make a better decision.”

“Oh, I’ve made the better decision,” I assure him.

“Do you know where Erika lives?”

“I do, but I have no interest in going to her parties. Not to mention, if the whole team is going to be there, that means Jake would be there, and you must be out of your ever-loving mind if you think I’m going to put myself in that situation. Me at a football party with you, Jake, and Shayne, not to mention the whole rest of the team. I’ve seen Carrie, okay? I know how that story ends.”

“With you exhibiting telekinetic powers?”

I nod my head. “Exactly. And I’ve gotta tell you, pig’s blood is not a good look for me.”

He takes an extra long time looking me over, then says, “I don’t know, you might be able to pull it off.”

“Zero percent chance. That party has trap written all over it. You’d have to literally lobotomize me before you’d get a version of me who would agree to come to your jock get-together. Sorry. It’s a hard pass.”

“I’m not gonna let Jake hurt you, Zoey,” he says, more seriously than I expect. “I don’t think he would anyway. Honestly, I don’t think the guy has the stomach for it. He’s the one who wanted to rough you up, and he couldn’t even finish the job.”

I shoot him a wary look and inch away from him. “You don’t have to say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’m just saying, Parsons is nothing to be afraid of. All bark, no bite.”

“Every single syllable from your lips right now helps make the case for why I won’t be coming to the party,” I tell him.

“You’re coming to the party,” he says, simply.

“I’m absolutely not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go have lunch. Good luck at the game tonight.”

I go to walk away from him, assuming he’ll let it drop, but Carter surprises me by calling out, “I’m trying to be nice to you, Zoey.”

I keep my gaze trained on the ground, shake my head, and keep walking.

Thanks to Carter, we get wings for dinner. It’s a little thing, but it puts everyone in a good mood. My mom doesn’t have to cook, Hank has never encountered a chicken wing he didn’t like, and my brother and I certainly aren’t complaining, either.

It’s the little luxuries you don’t think about until you can’t afford them anymore. I never realized I enjoyed the occasional wing night at home until they were no longer an option. Since we got this treat that we used to have when we had just a little more wiggle room in our dinner budget, it seems to make my parents feel like they’re in a better place than they are. Normally, stress is present at the dinner table like a fifth mouth to feed, but tonight everyone is in better spirits.

Mom wants to continue the good night, so we do another thing we haven’t done in a while—break out the board games. I lose all track of time until my phone lights up, alerting me to a message from Carter.

“Party starts in a half hour.”

“Have fun,” I type back.

“You coming?”

“I’ve told you ‘no’ 547 times,” I tell him.

“All right,” he sends back.

I frown, not sure if he’s saying all right, like he gives up, or all right, like I’ll hear from him again in an hour.

Ten minutes later, my phone starts vibrating. It’s Grace’s number flashing across the screen, so I go ahead and answer it.

“What’s up, Grace?”

The volume of her voice, apparently. I flinch, dragging the phone from my ear as she squeals incoherently into the phone.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” I say. “I didn’t catch a word of that.”

“We just got invited to a party at Erika Martin’s house!”

Dread slithers through me. Seriously, Carter? Trying to use Grace to force me into going to that party? “Who invited you?”

“Shauna from church, she’s on the cheer team. She just texted me and said they’re having a party tonight and we should come. Both of us—she invited you, too.”

“She didn’t invite us, Grace. Carter did. He’s been trying to get me to come to this party—” I stop, seeing my mom’s ears perk up at the sound of Carter’s name. Sighing heavily, I cover the mic on my phone and tell her, “Give me a minute.”