Carter #2
“Ohmigod, yes!” I say, laughing. It’s such a relief to actually remember a moment someone is talking about. “And then they
started saying I was gross, so I put a booger on my finger and started waving it in their faces.”
“Yes!” Layla says.
“Ew,” Maggie says.
“And then Ms. Berkovich got mad and made you sit at a desk by yourself while reading group finished. And no one in our group
brought up my nose-picking again. Ever. I was so grateful to you for that.”
“Oh,” I say. “Wow.” I never realized I was being heroic in that moment. I just liked chasing people with my boogers.
“So, honestly,” Layla says, “that’s what I remember about you even more than what happened between us sophomore year. Hopefully
that’s not insulting or anything, but—”
“It’s not insulting at all,” I say. It’s like a backpack filled with boulders has just slid off me. “It’s really great. Like,
really. Thanks, Layla.”
“Also worth mentioning,” she says, “I don’t pick my nose anymore. Just to make that clear.”
“All good with me either way.”
“But I really don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Great. And, by the way, Ollie Fusco-White is apparently in some FBI training program now. So, go figure.”
“Well, that’s unsettling.”
“It is.” Another torturous pause. “So I guess I’m gonna go now. Unless you have other questions?”
“Yeah, no, sounds good. Thanks again for doing this.”
“My pleasure. And thanks for the apology. I release you!” She makes an almost magical gesture with her hands when she says
that, and I get a full-body chill, almost as if those specific words have just unstuck me. Can that be? Am I going to turn
seventeen now? From this six-minute conversation? Much of which was spent watching Layla kiss a dog?
“Thanks.”
“Great to see you, Carter. And nice to meet you, Maggie!”
I clumsily flip the camera toward Maggie again.
She waves. “You too!”
“Ohmigod,” Layla says. “I just put it together who you look like. You’re Vivian Spear’s younger sister, aren’t you?”
Maggie doesn’t respond. Then she starts coughing.
“Do you want water?” I ask, turning the phone back toward myself.
“No, I’m okay,” she says. “I’ve just been . . . fighting this cold thing. Sorry. I am Vivian Spear’s younger sister, but I
actually should go. Probably need more cold medicine.”
“No problem,” Layla says. “Tell Vivian I said hi, though. Haven’t seen her in a while. I assume, Carter, that you’ve—”
“Oh!” Maggie says, coughing again so hard that she bumps into me, and I drop the phone. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, picking up the phone. “Thanks again, Layla, I’m gonna go help Maggie.”
“Of course. Good luck and be well!”
“You too!” I end the call.
Maggie is still coughing away into her elbow. I fill up my water glass in the bathroom and bring it to her. She chugs the whole thing in one go.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Yeah, this cough comes and goes,” Maggie says. “I feel so stupid.”
“Don’t,” I say. “Everybody coughs sometimes. And that went really well! She totally accepted my apology!”
“Uh-huh.” Even though Maggie is sort of smiling, she also looks like she wants to throw up.
“Oh man, you seem pretty sick. Want me to go get cough medicine?”
“No. No. Could you . . . Could you sit down with me for a second?”
“Sure. Absolutely.” I slowly lower myself onto the bed next to Maggie. I’m instantly aware that there are only a few inches
separating us. And, again, my eyes are drawn to her lips—her glossy, glittery lips—even now, when she’s liable to cough phlegm
into my face at any moment.
Maggie doesn’t speak, so I do. “I appreciate you sticking around. That was helpful to have you here.”
“You did a good job.”
“Thanks. It feels nice.”
Maggie nods.
“Do you want to say what you came over here to say?”
“It’s just . . .” Maggie takes a deep breath and rubs one of her closed eyes. “I feel like a bad person. For . . . reasons.
And I hate this feeling.”
“You think you’re a bad person? Maggie, I’m the one who sucks so bad I got myself stuck in a time loop. Have you ever gotten yourself stuck in a time loop?”
She shakes her head, eyes glassy, the tiniest of smiles appearing on her face.
“Like, if what I did to Layla caused this,” I say, “think how bad I must have hurt her. That is some serious bad personing right there. Though, she honestly didn’t seem like she thought it was a big deal at all. So
that was weird. Time heals all wounds, I guess. But, look, even an asshole like me can find redemption! She released me!”
“You’re not an asshole, Carter,” Maggie says.
I shrug. “I think everybody has asshole potential if you catch ’em at the right moment.”
“Maybe. But I’m sorry I’ve had to be such an asshole to you.”
“You haven’t!”
“Avoiding you. Lying to you. So shitty.”
“I get it, though! You’re doing what you have to in order to protect yourself.”
“But maybe that’s silly.” Maggie reaches her hand out and puts it on mine.
I look at her.
I hold my entire body still, even as my insides are engulfed by a tidal wave.
“Well,” I say.
“What I came over to say,” Maggie says, moving her fingers lightly along the back of my hand, “was . . . that it wasn’t . . .”
“Wasn’t what?”
I stare into her eyes, trying to understand what she’s getting at.
Finally she speaks.
“Sometimes I still want to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
Maggie inches slightly toward me. I remain a statue.
Of course I want to kiss her. Like, obviously.
But.
“What about Chord?” I ask. “I mean, I wouldn’t want him to, like, get frayed.”
“That doesn’t— It’s not— Don’t worry.”
It’s a highly unconvincing answer, but then I’m completely convinced anyway, because Maggie’s glossy lips are on mine, and
mine are on hers, and it’s finally happening.
We’re finally happening.
I am the tidal wave, we are the tidal wave, and we lose ourselves as we crash down upon the shore.