Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
CARSON
After an hour and a half in the cages, my arms are sore and I need ibuprofen, or ice. Probably both. Our Coach will be pissed if he finds out. I’m supposed to be taking it easy, not risking an injury before the season starts.
I pull into my driveway and find Dad standing on the porch, his arms crossed with that look that makes me wanna pull right back out.
“Where have you been?” He asks, his tone aggravated, “Practice was over hours ago. Where is your phone?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, handing it to him, his eyes going wide.
“Thirty missed calls?” He questions, raising his brow.
I yank the phone back, “Yeah, sorry I didn’t answer. I was in the cages.”
“Does coach—”
I stop him. “Don’t, Dad. Not today,” I beg. “Have you seen Nash?”
His eyes turn worried, much like mine.
“No. Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know.”
I push into the house, feeling a little better when I see Mom acting like a train wreck in the kitchen.
She’s a mess, but she’s our mess. Mine and Dad’s.
Lexie came into my life five years ago. She’s the only mom I’ve ever known, besides my grandma.
My birth mother died shortly after I was born.
My dad was only sixteen, so my grandparents raised me.
I moved here to live with him when I was eleven. Right when my YouTube channel blew up.
It started as a few funny videos here and there, but now it’s turned into a full-fledged vlog. My subscribers, my followers, they live my life with me.
It’s weird and awesome at the same time.
Crazy as it sounds, though, it’s not about the money.
I have a trust fund filled with enough cash that I’d never have to work a day in my life.
Not that I’d live off of that alone, I’d drive myself crazy not doing anything.
I just genuinely love making videos. My channel gets the attention of teenagers all over the country, and people even come here to try and find me.
We had a massive privacy fence built a couple of years ago to help keep kids away.
I’m not an average sixteen-year-old, no matter how much I want to be.
My phone rings again, and I look at the screen, immediately hitting the F-you button. My arms hurt so bad there’s no way I’m going out.
Avery
Where are you?
You’re still coming right?
Babe? Are you okay?
Her texts come in one right after the other, piled on top of the ones she sent earlier.
Carson
I’m sorry. I’m not feeling great. Catch you tomorrow?
Avery
Are you kidding me, Carson?
I can’t leave, there are a hundred people here, and I have to make sure no one messes anything up. My dad will be pissed.
Carson
It’s alright, have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Avery
Actually, I’ll just see you on Monday.
Well, she’s mad. Not surprising, since she always is.
Carson
Have you seen Nash?
Avery
No. If I find him, I’ll send him your way though. Bet you aren’t too sick to hang out with him.
I toss my phone on my bed, but the way it crinkles the comforter gives me anxiety, so I pick it back up, smoothing the dark blue back down. I’m not as clean as Dad, but the older I get, the more the mess aggravates me.
Nash lives in a tornado, both mentally and physically. Every time I go over to his house, I have to clean or I can’t sleep. So we usually just stay over here to save us both the trouble.
Where is he?
I pocket my phone and step outside, walking down to the end of the road to Nash’s house. His Jeep is gone, and his mom’s car is gone too… not that she’s ever around.
I try not to worry too much because he does this, something triggers him, and he reacts.
He’ll disappear and usually get drunk or pick a fight.
I just hope that whatever it is doesn’t have anything to do with Jovie.
It’s hard enough being the referee between those two.
Freshman year I had to talk him out of burning her house down.
I don’t know if he would’ve actually thrown the match, but I’ve never seen him so angry. For them, it’s a power struggle, and it gets dangerous. They walk a fine line between liking each other and killing each other.
I walk back toward my house, pausing a second when I get to Jovie’s. I internally beat myself up for even considering talking to the new girl.
Why?
To welcome her?
What is wrong with me?
I catch a glimpse of someone outside, a silhouette, really. I walk along the privacy fence, down to the water.
“Jovie, why are you not at Avery’s? Listen whatever is going on with you and Nash—”
She whips her head around, unfamiliar slate blue eyes staring back at me.
“Not… Jovie,” I whisper.
She huffs out a laugh, “I live to disappoint.”
I struggle through an overload of emotions, finding my words, “Not disappointed, just… surprised.”
She presses her lips together in a fine line, “Well if you are looking for Jovie, I’m sure you’ll find her wherever she can creep into the spotlight.”
I laugh, “That’s the truth.”
She steps back, her hand moving to her chest in shock, “Not a fan?”
I smile, “Jovie is the mole of this place. She knows everything about everyone, and it’s not smart to be on her bad side. There are no secrets when it comes to her.”
She nearly snorts, “I haven’t been afraid of her for sixteen years, and I’m not about to start now.”
“You might be my hero,” I smirk, nervously putting my hands into the pockets of my Adidas shorts.
“Don’t mistake me for a friend. I have no interest in joining your group.”
“My group?” I laugh, staring into her blue eyes, trying to read what’s behind them. A clue, a story, anything.
“Yeah, I could’ve spent five minutes in the school and figured out which crowd to avoid. I’m not interested in being noticed.”
I stare at her blankly. I’ve never had a girl blatantly admit they didn’t want to be my friend. Actually, most girls would sell their souls for a simple mention on Instagram.
“Anyway,” she pushes her thumb over her shoulder back toward her house. “I better get back inside. I’m here with stipulations, and I can’t get shipped back to Chicago. Nice to meet you, uhh....”
“Carson,” I blurt.
Her brows knit together, almost like she remembers something, “Right. See ya around.”
I step closer, almost desperately. “I live right next door, you know, if you ever need anything.”
She can’t help but laugh, “I’m done needing anyone.”
I watch as she walks away, leaving me standing here in shock. I don’t even know what to do with myself. I don’t know if I’m confused or embarrassed. I don’t think I’ve ever been embarrassed a day in my life.
I imagine it feels a lot like this.
Walking inside my house, my mom eyes me from the couch. She’s curled into a ball watching some chick flick. “Find Nash?”
I sigh, “No. Just ran into the newest addition next door.”
She smiles, “Lauren was telling me that Corinne was coming to live with them. It’s a little strange if you ask me.”
I shrug, “She isn’t the friendliest.”
Her eyes widen, “Was she mean to you?”
I burst out in laughter as she pretends to take her earrings out, “Mom, stop. It’s fine.”
She smiles, “No one is mean to my baby.”
“She wasn’t exactly mean, but she didn’t jump next to me and pull her phone out for a picture. It was weird.”
Her face softens with sympathy, “Honey, not everyone is like that. Maybe she doesn’t care.”
I step back defensively, crossing my arms, “Name one girl at Legacy that would want to hang out with me and not tell everyone on their socials.”
She bites her lip, thinking hard, “Well, Avery has her own following now with her beauty videos and sponsors. Hasn’t she calmed down any?”
I laugh, “Avery is the opposite of calm, and that new manager her dad hired for her is constantly trying to spin stories about us for the press.”
She pulls her blanket up, allowing me to sit next to her. “Son, the only person in control of your happiness is you. If you aren’t happy, make a change.”
I just nod, sitting here thinking about what she said.
Am I happy?
I pull my phone out, opening Instagram. Avery’s pictures are the first on my feed. Each one perfectly posed… the perfect outfit, the perfect makeup, the perfect lighting.
The perfect lie. A cover-up.
When I first met Avery, she was different, humble even.
It wasn’t until her mom died freshman year that things changed.
She covered her grief in makeup and never looked back.
She uses her looks as a shield, blocking out anything that could potentially hurt her.
The problem is, I remember that girl from eighth grade.
The one that would come to all my games, hair pulled into a ponytail, smiling at me from the bleachers.
That’s the reason I put up with it. Do I love her? I don’t think so. Do I care about her? Of course, I do.
My mind goes back to Cori. Why is she here?
I keep scrolling through Instagram, eventually pulling up the search and typing Cori Clark into the blank space.
Several results display, but none are her.
Shit.
I type Corinne Clark. Nothing.
Huh. What kind of teenage girl doesn’t have social media?
Never mind, I don’t care why she is here. The reality is that she is, and she’s going to be impossible for me to stay away from.
She might not want to be noticed, but she will definitely be remembered. Something tells me that.