Sort of Normal

Chapter 7

Carter

Carter, 13

Kara, 20

"Here, take this and go pay the man," my mom says to me. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her mouth is twisted up like she ate a sour lemon. I always wondered if she was pretty before the drugs. We don't have any pictures, so I have no way of knowing.

Her hair is bright pink; she only ever has the money to spend on beauty products and drugs. That explains why she's wearing dark blue eyeshadow and red lipstick. She also has on short shorts—I think some of the girls at my school also have them—and a white tank top, bra-less as usual. Her arms are a mess, with sores open and bleeding. She always itches them when she's waiting for her dealer to deliver the drugs. She used to be able to get by with drinking alcohol during the time between fixes, but it doesn't work anymore.

"Mom—"

She scowls at me, which makes her look monstrous. She hates it when I call her Mom. She prefers I call her Tish, which I hate. She's my mom, and there's nothing worse than calling your mom by her name while everyone else calls their mom, “Mom.” When I was little, she wasn't so mean about it, but now that I'm older, she says it shows her age.

She doesn't realize she's already doing that all by herself.

"Tish," I say, nervously. "Kara's going to be here soon."

"Kara's going to be here soon," she mocks. She's never met Kara, thankfully, but she hates her all the same. She hates everybody. Declan and I included. "Well, then answer the door, get me my stuff, and go."

I take the money from her, and she immediately turns and heads back to her room. There's a man in there, and they've been yelling at each other for the last hour about how neither of them has anything on them.

The only thing that makes this easier is if I tell myself she only ordered pizza. She would never do that, but it's better to pretend than face the reality. I open the door, step out, and close it before even looking at the man waiting. I've learned you don't want to be in a small space with my mom's "pizza guys," and you also don't want to give them the opportunity to come inside.

When I look up, I'm met with an annoyed expression. "I got here fast and had ta wait," the dealer mutters around a cigarette. "Money first, kid."

He doesn't even question the fact that I'm a thirteen-year-old girl. I'm just money to him. He carefully counts the wad of cash I give him, then recounts it. Twice.

"This ain't enough," he barks at me. "No money, no product."

I don't want to plead with him, but I know if I don't, Tish will be furious, and she'll take it out on me. "I'm sorry—she can get you the money."

"Ah, that's a 'fuck no,'" he says, spitting out the words around his cigarettes. He holds up an arm and uses it to point backward. "I've heard from other guys about ’er and how she don't pay. I ain't gonna let her con me like she has others." He removes the cigarette and blows out smoke. "'Less you wanta barter for it."

I blanch. Even though he can't be anything more than a few years older than Boone, he looks like he's lived a long, hard life already. He reminds me of Declan in that sense. "What?"

He shrugs. "Worth a try, kid. Tail's tail. You tell your mom to get me more money, and I'll get her her stuff."

"You should leave, or I'm calling the cops,” Kara says, her arrival taking me by surprise even though I expected her. I back into the door, wanting to hide. This is the last thing I want her to see. She's supposed to be the good part—the part where drugs aren't an everyday aspect of my life.

"Trust me, honey, you don't wanna do that," the dealer says, slowly turning around to face my sister. She's on the not-mowed, swampy lawn in front of us in one of her pretty sun-dresses, with her hair braided and her toenails painted. "You don't wanna make the whole park an enemy."

"I'm not here to make friends," Kara says evenly.

"That don't mean you can't make enemies," he says back. "Your type would know."

Kara's face starts to turn pink, but she stands her ground. I've never seen her like this before. She's always so upbeat and kind. "You should leave."

"I was going to."

"Then go."

He glances at me. "You tell Tish what I said." He heads toward a junky little car, and I'm glad Kara parked out of the way of it. There's no doubt he'd hit it on purpose.

The second his car roars to life, Kara blindly grabs at my hand and drags me over to her car. She doesn't let me go until I'm in the passenger seat, and then she rounds to the driver's side, gets in, and locks the doors. She grips the steering wheel, her gaze fixed straight ahead. She looks dazed.

"She asked you to buy the drugs for her, didn't she?"

I nod as I answer, "Y-yes."

"Have you done that before?"

I nod again and choke out another, "Yes."

"Can you say, 'no'?"

"No." I have a scar near my ear from the one time I did. Tish was wearing a cheap ring that a boyfriend gave her—she's since hocked it. There were other times, too, but none of them left something that long-lasting. I'm thankful she's nothing like Boone's dad, because he always leaves scars.

Kara squeezes her eyes shut. "Where are Boone and Declan?"

I bite my lip and look out my window. "They're out with friends." It's what I choose to believe, even though Declan mentioned something about a girl, and they're probably getting high. I live in a world of fake pizza and fake trips with friends because my reality makes me feel like I'm suffocating.

"You shouldn't have to live like this," Kara says. When she opens her eyes, tears spill out. "This shouldn't be your life."

#

"You'd think they're doing surgery the way they're staring at that grill," Kara says, pulling her sunglasses down her nose to look at the group of people, Gabe included, who are crowded around it.

"Or that they're monkeys," I say, just in time for one of them to reach out and try moving something, only to give up. I'm pretty sure they've been touching the same knobs for the last hour. If their attempts didn't work the first time, they're not going to work the second time. Or the millionth.

We haven't been able to make the doctors' annual grill-out in years, mostly because Gabe's a low man on the totem pole, since he hasn't been there long. He's always had to cover everyone's shifts. I guess he's finally less green.

"This," Kara says emphatically, "is why I do the grilling."

"How much do you want to bet they're going to burn the burgers?" I ask.

Kara laughs. "I'm not going make a bet I know I'll lose. They'll definitely burn them."

She slides her sunglasses back up her nose and shifts around on her towel. We were swimming, until Gabe decided to help grill, now we're sunning, which probably isn't for the best. Our complexion is very anti-sun. It's one of those nice reminders that Kara's my sister—that we share some of the same DNA.

When we're burnt to a crisp, we'll bond. We'll whine together and rub aloe on each other and drive Gabe crazy. I'm a doctor, he'll say, so it's my job to explain the dangers of skin cancer to you. And he will in extensive detail. It's fun and weird and us.

"So, that Dr. Green has a cute son," Kara prompts.

I roll my eyes and adjust the towel I’m using as a pillow. When Gabe introduced us to Dr. Green and his family, Kara had elbowed me not-so-slyly. She's right; Dr. Green's son, Luke, is cute. Even though he's my age, he's playing volleyball with the kids. He’s tan, with short brown hair and tawny eyes. His kind, unabashed grin is infectious, something I notice because he directs it toward me.

I'm not used to anyone really looking at me, other than to see through me. It felt nice to have this guy actually seem interested in me—he even tried joking with me, although I couldn't hear him over Gabe and Dr. Green's conversation. I was too embarrassed to ask him to say it again, so I just pretended to laugh. Jokes aren't funny the second time around. I’m pretty sure Kara thinks the exchange means we're married.

"I'm going to go for a walk," I tell her, more than ready to escape this topic of conversation.

Kara sighs. "You're right. Maybe he's too perfect."

"If anyone's too perfect, it's Gabe," I say back. I don't belong with perfect. I'm too rough around the edges, thanks to my childhood. What I'm more concerned with is finding someone who's perfect for me. I want somebody who's my other side of the coin, which was how I used to always see Boone.

Why am I thinking about him? I don't know why I keep trying to keep him at arm's length, only to let him get closer. It's crazy. I'm crazy. He says he won't hurt me again, but I know he will. I just can't say no to him—I don't want to. He means so much to me, and I guess a girlish part of me will always see him as the average, everyday superhero I love.

"Can I join you?"

I jump and immediately wrap my arms around my middle. Kara talked me into wearing one of her two-piece swimsuits today, which was a little stupid on both of our parts. There's more to me than there is to her, boobage included. She clapped and said I looked beautiful, whereas Gabe glowered, stepping into his dad role.

I glance up at Luke and see he's smiling shyly at me. "Sure," I say.

He falls into step beside me. I notice he’s only wearing his swim trunks. At least Luke is shirtless and shoeless in a place where he's allowed to be.

"So, you're Gabe's sister-in-law?" he asks.

I blink at the wording. Sister-in-law isn't really what we are to each other. If that were the case, I don't think we'd be as close. "Yeah, but he and my sister have basically raised me."

"That's what my dad said," Luke tells me. "Well, Gabe's a cool guy. He's been letting me shadow him since my dad's more involved in administration."

Gabe literally never mentions work. He loves it but doesn't talk about it, because he already feels like it takes up so much of his life. It might be a little rude to tell Luke he's never mentioned him. "I'm sure Gabe's a blast to shadow."

"Yeah, he is. So, how much do you wanna bet they're going to tell us they only overcooked the burgers to help everyone's cholesterol?"

"They're smart people, yet they have no idea how to work a grill," I say, laughing.

"And here I want to be one of those smart people."

"Well, now you know you need to brush up on your grilling skills," I tell him.

"I'll get right on that. Maybe it'll set me apart."

"It always does. I mean, Gabe almost didn't get the job because of the other guy's Labor Day kabobs. But then they heard Gabe actually went to medical school and they figured that, gee, maybe he deserves it."

"Fair. Guess education is pretty crucial, too."

I hold up my fingers an inch apart. "A little bit. There's wiggle room, of course."

"Of course." He laughs. "You're funny; you know that?"

"I've been told it a time or two." Just not by anyone other than my immediate family or Boone.

"You're good at keeping a straight face, too."

"Goals."

He chuckles again, and I hear cheering back at the shelter. "Food's done," he says.

"We'd better get back."

"Yeah."

"Listen, I was wondering if maybe you'd want to do something sometime."

Stupid Boone flashes through my mind, as if our newly-official standing-date where he walks me home was my sole reason for living. Totally ridiculous. I'm allowed to have a life and friends.

I catch myself before the firm "I can't" slips out. "Sounds like fun."

"Really? Good."

Kara will be thrilled at the thought of me hanging out with Luke. I can already hear her squealing.

Luke eats with us, which I don’t expect to enjoy as much as I do, and I think he manages to impress Gabe and Kara even more, if that's possible. When we're about to leave, he makes sure to get my number and texts me right away, which has Kara beaming. My cheeks feel as though they were on fire, especially when we get back to the car, and Gabe declares that Luke's "a good kid."

#

"Shit."

I bolt up in bed at the sound of a curse and grope for my lamp's light switch. That was totally Boone's voice. I'd know it anywhere. Was I dreaming that or …?

"Fuck."

I throw off my covers and run to the window, not bothering to worry about what I'm wearing. Not that I'm scantily dressed as girls are in the movies when an attractive guy comes to their window. Nope, I look like a bag lady in an oversized shirt of Gabe's. I'm wearing booty shorts, but there's no seeing them since the shirt was made for a giant.

I tug on the blinds to pull them up, and as soon as I do, I gasp. Boone is on the other side, looking just as shocked as he did the other day when I caught him. The only difference is this time he's pale, and the note on the windowsill is red, along with the windowsill itself and his arm.

With a lot of force, I manage to open the window. It's as if Gabe knew that this would someday happen, so he put me in the room with the crappy window. "Boone, what are you doing? Are you okay?"

He smirks. "Thought I'd show my everlasting devotion to you by making a blood oath."

"Blood oath? You look like a sacrificial pig." I open the window further and reach out to grab him by his shirt collar. "Get in here."

He bulks. "I prefer sacrificial goat. Goats are awesome."

"Well, pigs are cute, and this is a really weird argument."

"Ain't an argument, and maybe I should be a pig, since I'm pretty damn cute. Am I more awesome or cute—what do you think?"

"Boone …" I trail off and listen for any signs that Gabe and Kara heard us. Luckily, the house is silent. Gabe sleeps like the dead because he's always tired, and Kara tends to pile pillows on top of her head. If we're quiet, I should be able to help Boone without them finding out he's here. In my room. Again. "Get in here."

He grins. "Yes, ma'am." All of his confidence leaves him as his hands scrape against the riveted sill. He leaves behind a handprint that I'll have to clean up later. He curses again. "Tell Kara it's hard to play Rapunzel and Prince when there's damn thorns everywhere."

"You shouldn't be doing this if it's hurting you."

"Yeah, well, I heard something about how you're supposed to fight for things, and I'd rather fight thorns than Gabe."

He straightens once he's inside my room and opens his hands to look at them. I wince at the sight of one of the thorns sticking out of a cut. I want to tell him this doesn't earn him a medal of valor when it comes to repairing things between us, but in a way, it does. I forgot how much it warms my heart to know he'd go to the ends of the earth for me.

"Sit down, and I'll go get the first aid kit."

He looks around, somehow managing to smirk and look unsure all at the same time. This is unexplored territory for the both of us, and he's not as good at hiding it as he thinks he is. Somehow, his nervousness adds to my confidence.

"The bed's fine," I tell him.

I don't give him time to answer. I go to the bathroom downstairs where Kara keeps a first aid kit. Every time a floorboard creaks, my heart ticks up in tempo. That shouldn't wake them up and, even if it did, I could lie. Easily. They wouldn't suspect anything. But I would hate to do that. I hate leaving details like this out, because I don't do that with them.

After I grab the kit, I head back up to my room. Boone is sitting on my bed, his palms up on his thighs, careful to not drip blood on my bedspread. He's looking around my room, studying it, just as he did the last time. There's something about the image of him on my bed that makes my thighs clench.

I always wanted this. Not him bleeding and sneaking around, but I wanted him in my space. There were too many nights where I'd think about having his arms around me—and then asking him to stay with me forever. It would be so easy to talk him into it right now because I think he'd let me do anything I want. All I would need to do is bandage up his hands then kiss him—let hands roam, lose clothes, and pray he means everything he's been saying.

But I can't do that, because I'm not sure if praying will work.

There's a minute where he doesn't realize I've returned, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Without those piercing eyes of his, I can see the unease he always tries to hide. The lines of his face are sharpened, his shoulders are hunched up near his ears, and the muscles in his arms are rippling.

He's the most complex person I've ever met. In one light, he's charismatic and confident, but in the other, he's unsure of himself and watchful of everything. He's not a liar or an actor, as I sometimes tell myself—he’s just trying to evolve as we've always had to. We were literally born into Darwinian families, and who we are now is a product of that—of a fight to survive.

"If we're starting out again, I don't think that this is the way to do it," I say softly.

He jumps, and whatever emotions were there before slip away. "I'm trying to go for memorable here, Junebu—Carter."

"Memorable doesn't mean you have to be stupid," I remind him. "Give me your hands."

"Well, that's forward of you," he says in a mock scoff.

I give him a look, and he grins as he holds out his palms. I set the kit on the bed beside him and rummage around for the tweezers, antiseptic, and large Band-Aids. I'm probably too used to cleaning him up because I used to do it for him all the time. Declan, too. Between bad parenting, parents' bad relationships, fights, and random accidents—it was hard not to play ER doctor. They were always beaten, bruised, or bleeding. Boone doesn't even wince as I pick out the thorns and dab his injuries with the antiseptic.

"Even though I know this isn't exactly fun, I, uh—it's good to see you, Carter." He works his jaw, the movement exaggerated by a layer of thick blond stubble. There's nothing better than standing over the man who's always given you pesky butterflies. "Didn't think going a day away from you would make me miss you this much."

I missed him, too. Not that I'm going to fess up to it.

"How was Gabe's work thing?"

"It was nice. I made a friend." A male friend. Not that Boone really needs to know.

He tilts his head and reaches up with his bandaged hand to run his fingers along the edge of my jaw, then down my neck to my collarbone. Goosebumps erupt in the wake of his fingers, and I fight the urge to move into his hands. Into him.

"Did this friend happen to be the sun? You're of the medium-rare type right now," he says with a quiet chuckle.

"We all can't be tan, Mr. God of the Sun," I tease back.

He tucks my hair behind my ear, and his gaze unmistakably flickers to my lips. My breath catches as he closes the space between us, each second audibly ticking by. It's amazing how I never really paid attention to the little analogue clock on my dresser—it doesn't even show the right time—but right now, it's all I can hear. By the tenth click, he's so close I'm sure he's about to kiss me, and I'm about to let him.

Just as his lips are about to brush mine, he skates past them and presses them against my jaw. My heart feels as if it were about to jump out of my chest, giving up on any chance of ever functioning right again.

"Where is this going?" I ask breathlessly.

Another kiss. This one less hesitant. "Somewhere permanent, I hope. I'm in it for real this time. I want this from you, but I'll take whatever you'll give me."

"I want it, too," I say back. "But you haven't exactly proven that you know what permanent is."

He pulls back. "Carter—"

"What happened between us wasn't just a crush or something, Boone. It was real.” Instead of my voice getting louder, it gets quieter. I'm too aware of Gabe and Kara down the hall to do anything but whisper. “Why did you leave me?”

"It was because …"

I close my eyes and step away from him. Another excuse. It was because I wanted tonight to be special for you. It was because we were just in the heat of the moment. It was because we're not meant for anything more than this—I'm not made for it or for you.

"Listen to me, Carter, please?" he asks.

"You're just going to tell me an excuse. You always do," I tell him. "I can't hear it right now. You should go. We'll go through the front door. Quietly."

When I open my eyes, his brows are drawn together. "Let me just—" He holds up his hand, as if the rest of the sentence was written on there. He stands and goes over to my desk to get a pen, then heads back to the windowsill and writes something on the paper he left there. Boone winces as he scrawls down the final words.

Eventually, he neatly folds the paper back up and sets it on the sill. "I can show myself out," he tells me. He leans toward me and presses a kiss against my forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow. Same place."

I hold my breath as I listen for him to walk out the front door. I'll need to lock it later, before everyone gets up. Right now, I'm too concerned with whatever he wrote on that note.

Beautiful,

Sometimes I think about when we were kids—when things were easy. When you used to look at me like I had the world in my hands. I wish you still looked at me that way. Did I look at you like that? There's no way I couldn't have.

Boone

It was because I loved you too much.

#

Carter, 13

Kara, 20

Kara parks in the driveway of a yellow house with white fencing around it. There are white flowers in the front yard with pretty sunflowers peeking out. There's a swing on the porch, making the house look like something on a gas station postcard.

"Whose house is this?" I ask her. "Is it Gabe's?"

Kara told me that he's been looking at apartments, but I can't imagine Gabe moving straight from his parents’ place to a house. He's looking for something manly and industrial, but she said she suspects he'll end up buying something with mostly older people in the community. It would fit him.

"No," Kara says. "It's mine. Well, ours."

"I don't understand," I say.

"How about we go sit on the porch?"

"Can we do that?"

"We can do whatever we want," Kara explains. "It's in my name."

She gets out first and waits for me at the front of the car. I take my time meeting her, because I don't understand what she's saying. This house can't be ours—I only get to see Kara a couple of hours a week. And it can't belong to Tish, because she can't afford a real home with a real yard—plus, all these flowers would be dead within a day if it were hers.

I follow Kara to the porch, but I can't bring myself to sit on the swing. It can't be my swing—or even our swing. I sit on the steps instead, and Kara takes the spot behind me. She sets a hand on my knee reassuringly.

"I know this is probably confusing, but we're going to live here—you and me."

"I have a house."

"No, your mom has a trailer," she corrects softly, "and she barely even has that. After seeing you with that man the other day—your mom's dealer—I decided it was time I did something about the way she's been raising you. You deserve better, and I can give that to you. I asked Tish to sign her rights over to me."

"What?"

"It’s official as of this morning."

"She wouldn't do that." She's my mom. No matter how horrible they are, moms don't do that, right?

Kara squeezes my knee. "She did. She wasn't going to at first, but I offered her some money and to pay her rent."

My stomach sinks. She would do anything for money, including giving up her daughter.

"This house is still in the same school district, but it's a better place to be. The trailer wasn't a good situation for you. You understand that, right?"

"Yes." I stare down at my toes, which feel like they're baking in the sun. "What about Declan? And—"

"Boone?" Kara asks with a smile. I talk way too much about Boone and my crush on him. Stealthy, I am not. Even he probably knows by now. "Well, this house has four bedrooms. I need one for an office space and, of course, you and I get our own, so that leaves the last one open. We can make it a guest room for Declan, but only for when he's clean. I don't want that in our house, okay?"

I manage a nod. I'll have my own room? And Declan can have one, too?

"And as far as Boone is concerned," she says, singing his name, "he's welcome, too. Anytime."

"Really?"

"Of course." She moves her arm away and leans back so she can put it over my shoulders instead. "You're okay with this? I know I should've talked to you about it first, but I didn't want to get your hopes up … and I also didn't want to hear you say 'no.' I think this has to happen, even if you don't want it to."

Tears spring to my eyes, and Kara immediately starts to apologize. "No," I tell her, "it's okay. I'm happy. I want to live with you."