Everyone in the small town of Hull knows two things. One: Jill Williams doesn't date, and two: Carson Blue is addicted to drugs.
When Carson decides to clean up his act and apply at Jill's family restaurant, she's less than enthused. Between school...
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CARSON DIDN'T COME to school today. I texted him at noon, but no response. And again after class to see if he was still coming to work. No response. Now I'm at Dee's, trying to get some study time in before the dinner rush, but we're never too busy when it's raining anyway.
Nolan's across from me in the booth, flipping through the pages of his Watchmen graphic novel. I'm watching him while Colleen's at her job interview and Mom's out with her friend Maggie.
My phone is face-up next to my English notes. Every few minutes, I tap it. Nothing. I chew on the eraser of my pencil. What if Carson doesn't show? That fight seemed nasty. It reminded me of all the screaming matches I witnessed as a bystander of my parents' relationship.
When I was a kid, Mom tried her best not to get into it with my dad when I was around. She wanted to keep me sheltered from the violent rage that comes with dysfunctional relationships, but I did see it. Those memories are burned into me; cauterized and scarified, never to be forgotten.
Their worst fight happened when I was freshly nine, still small enough to fit into the narrow closet of my bedroom. I'd spent a lot of nights in there. So many that I overcame the claustrophobia I'd had as a child. Somehow, that small, cramped, dusty space became less suffocating and more safe.
"You're high again," Mom shouted from the living room, her voice as shrill as a banshee. "You were out with those idiot bandmates of yours, weren't you? It's Jillie's birthday, Graham!"
That tone always set Dad over the edge. Something crashed and shook the trailer. I'd later find out it was Dad flipping the coffee table.
"You get off my fuckin' back," he yelled. "This is my life, Sharon. This is my career. These are my dreams. I forgot, all right? I'm here now, aren't I? The kid's not gonna know the difference!"
Their screaming match then became less about me and more about them, as it always did. I can't remember exactly what they said; it all blended together, creating a black static fuzz in my brain, and the next thing I knew, Dad was gone and Mom was opening the closet door with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She brought me to the kitchen and lit the candles of my vanilla cake and promised things would get better. But I'd already heard that so many times, I was starting to not believe her.
I wonder if Carson feels that way. I wonder if he has his own closet to hide in when things get too rough.
Sighing, I focus on my notes. With everything going on, I completely forgot to study for my test tomorrow. It's worth ten percent of my grade and I'm sitting at a B-level grade, but I need A's if I want into the school of my dreams. My portfolio of songs will help too, but grades are important.
"Nolan, learn from my mistakes," I say, then mutter under my breath, "I have to do better if I want to get into NYU."
"Are you going as soon as you graduate?" Nolan asks.
