Falling Out of Time

Carter | Help

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Carter slammed his locker door, then begrudgingly made his way towards the art room.

There were plenty of reasons he didn't want to go to detention, number one being it was the first week of school. This wasn't what he had in mind for his start to senior year. Plus, the weather was still nice; the last few years living in Susquehanna made Carter appreciate good weather while it lasted.

But if he was honest, there were two very specific reasons he didn't wanna go. He knew those reasons would be sitting there when he walked through the door, and he still couldn't face Amber after what happened at the assembly. That, and he couldn't face Tyler without getting the urge to knock him out again.

Tyler just had one of those faces.

Dragging his feet, Carter turned the corner to the art wing — only to get run over by someone.

"Shit," he swore as he dropped to the floor. Carter's forehead throbbed where they had collided, and he rubbed it tentatively until his vision came back into focus. Once he could see straight, he found Mark sprawled out a few feet away, the contents of his bag everywhere.

"Damn it, Carter!" he shouted, grabbing his stuff feverishly. "Why don't you get your head out of your ass?"

"Relax, I didn't mean to hit you." Carter didn't bother pointing out that Mark was the one who barreled into him like a linebacker.

"I'm sure the thought has crossed your mind before, so forgive me if I don't believe you." Mark kept all his focus on his belongings.

Carter moved to grab a notebook. "Well, I'm sorry anyway. Here, let me—"

"Don't touch anything," Mark snapped, snatching the book from Carter's reach. "I don't need your help, Hayes, so fuck off."

If he was trying to get a rise out of Carter, it was working. He clenched his fist to control his temper, but he just couldn't bite his tongue. "You never did, right? That's what you really wanna say."

Mark kept stuffing his bag. "If that's what I wanted to say, I would've said it."

Ironically, Carter didn't know what to say to that, so he watched wordlessly as Mark gathered his things. He realized this was the first time they had been alone together in years. The rest of the hallway was empty as most kids had headed out for the weekend, and the silence that hung over them made each second more awkward.

"Why are you still here?" Mark finally asked, grabbing the last of his pens. Carter knew once he walked away, that would be it.

"I'm tired of this," Carter blurted out. "Pretending to hate you when I don't. Aren't you?"

It was subtle, but Mark's movements slowed. He still didn't meet Carter's eyes, but it seemed like he was in less of a hurry than before."Who says I'm pretending?"

"I do. Because I think you are." Carter's heart thundered in his chest. "Because I think, deep down, you know what I did — what my mom did, was only to help you."

Mark had stopped packing by this point, but his head stayed down, making it difficult for Carter to read him. They sat like that in the middle of the hall until the last bell of the day sounded and broke the moment.

"Like I said, Carter," swinging his bag onto his shoulder, Mark staggered to his feet, "I don't need your help."

But in his haste to adjust his bag, one last item flew out and landed close to Carter's foot. Even in the horribly lit hall, he could tell exactly what he was looking at, and it made his heart drop straight into his stomach.

"Are you sure about that?" He plucked the bag of coke off the floor and held it up between them. Mark didn't have to say a word; the look in his eyes was answer enough for Carter.

Faster than he could anticipate, Mark snatched the baggie out of his hands. "I'm fucking sure," he spit. "So how about you go back to pretending to hate me, and I'll go back to pretending you don't exist."

And there it was, the anger Mark saved only for him. Carter felt twelve again, unsure of what to do or what to say. Whatever he chose, he'd have to make the decision quick; Mark was already powering down to the other end of the hall.

"Does Amber know?" Carter stood up with new conviction. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to say, but he was done not saying something.

Mark stopped just before hitting the doors to the parking lot."Is that a threat?"

Yep, wrong thing to say. "Jesus, no, I'm just trying to make sure you're not doing this shit alone. I mean, it's fucking coke—"

Before Carter could add anything else, a beep from Mark's pocket cut him off.

Mark checked his phone, then visibly paled. "Amber knows everything she needs to know," he said quietly, then turned on his heel and left.

Carter could fill in the blanks himself — absolutely nothing.

He stood there for a while after, contemplating what he had said about their falling out. More importantly, how he felt saying it. Then, Carter picked up his bag, swung it onto his shoulder, and walked the other way towards the art room. He was suddenly very eager to see Amber.

Even more than usual