Sort of Normal

Chapter 2

Boone

Carter, 9

Boone, 12

I can hear Tish—Carter and Declan's mom—all the way over in my trailer. She's screaming and moaning her head off like she's some sort of sexbot, and I know Carter's in there, listening to it, all alone. I feel sick, and I'm not even there, and Tish ain't my mom. I can't imagine how Carter feels.

I saw Declan leaving earlier with the older guys we've been paling around with, and I wanted to go, too, but I knew my dad would be stumbling home drunk and would need help getting to bed. The last thing we need is another run-in with the cops, where he's howling in the front yard and cursing up a storm. Funny how we get in trouble for that, but the noise levels coming from Tish's are perfectly acceptable in the eyes of the law.

There have been a few cops parked in front of her house, and I doubt they've been there to write citations. No doubt she trades sex for a blind eye.

I push my English homework away because I wasn't planning on doing that anyway. It's time to save Carter.

One of the guys Declan left with told me we're too old to be hanging around with her, but I could give a damn. Even if she's still a kid, Carter's my best friend. Sometimes, I think she cares more about me than Declan does.

I'm halfway to her trailer when I notice our cop-calling neighbor's flower bed is freshly planted with flowers. I look around, checking for her, and sneak over. I pluck a wad of them and then head back into my trailer. I find twine to tie them with, then a piece of notebook paper.

"Pretty flowers for a pretty Junebug," I write on the paper. Carter likes this sort of thing—I realized that when I made her a birthday card because I couldn't afford to buy her one.

I walk back over to her trailer and set them on a small window sill. I see Carter inside, sitting on the couch she sleeps on, with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at her toes.

I knock on the window, but she doesn't hear me over Tish. I hate that woman. When Carter looks up, she immediately grins as though she were not existing in hell. She runs over to the window and opens it.

"Brought ya a present," I tell her with a grin.

"Flowers?" she asks, giggling. "From Miss Blanchard's yard?"

"Wrote you a note and everything."

She unfolds it, and her lips move as she reads it. When she looks at me, her eyes are wide, and she's in awe. For a second, I wonder if anyone's ever told her she's pretty. Someone has to have, right? I remember sweet-talking girls at her age and trying to get them to kiss me.

"Thank you, Boone," she says.

"You're welcome." All of a sudden, her mom's yelling gets exceptionally shrill. I'm not sure if she's having sex as much as she's getting murdered. "Say, why don't we go to the park or somethin'?"

Carter winces, looking in the direction of her mom's bedroom. Her eyebrows pull together, and she starts to nibble on her lip. "Declan told me I'm not supposed to leave the house."

Sometimes I hate Declan, too. Sure, he's a good friend to me, but he's not always a good brother to Carter. I can't believe he would leave her here in this situation.

"What? You don't trust me? I brought you flowers. Does Declan do that?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "He's my brother."

"So what am I that makes it okay?"

"A boy."

I'm not sure if it's because she just called me a boy or if it's because she's suddenly acting shy, but I feel my face heat.

"Then what do boys and girls do? They go out on dates. C'mon, Junebug, let's date."

#

My old man is sitting in front of our trailer in a battered lawn chair, reading his Bible. He's always been in this cycle where he's a God-fearing, sober man for a time, then a blasphemous drunk.

The religion was okay at first—it was nice to depend on. It gave me closure about my ma's death I'd never had because the Bible always knew the cure to the bad stuff. Heaven and angels and God's love and all of that. But every time he'd lose religion, find alcohol, lose alcohol, and find religion again, it seemed like he was more and more devout. Obsessed, even. Now he usually preaches about hell and how there's a special place for me in it. How sweet that the devil would specifically think of me.

As I walk toward him, I can't help but look over at Tish's trailer. She still lives there. Well, when she actually comes home, that is. The grass is all grown up, the siding is green, and the walls and roof are caving in. She's gotta be fucking area planning, ’cause there's no way in hell the place is within code.

I never thought the day would come when our trailer would look like something out of one of those home design catalogs. All we do is mow our grass.

"Son," my dad says, holding up his Bible, "I'd like for us to have a reading together tonight."

"Can't Dad—I've got to be up early tomorrow." Since my dad's been collecting disability since he was in a—you guessed it—drunk driving accident, I've been the one working. I basically do odd jobs around town because they pay better than any other job I can find. Tomorrow morning, I'm doing some work on the local dentist's plumbing, and I want to get there early before they need running water. I like being able to make my own schedule, which gives me time to swing by to see Carter and take technical classes, so I know more about different repairs.

"All right," he says, but he's got the same look on his face he always gets when I refuse to drink or pray with him. It's a mixture of pissed off and resentful. His dry lips are in a tight line, a contrast against his scraggly gray beard. The scar beside his lips from the time he fell face-first against a metal trashcan, is quivering angrily. "Don stopped by. Needs rent."

Damn, if I don't want to slap my knee and start laughing. My dad has never cared about rent, and we both know Don would never tell Dad about it being due. Don knows to tell me because I'm the one who'll get the money together. My dad's not capable of dealing with money. If anything, he's about due to slip back into his ways, so this might just be him looking for money to buy alcohol.

"I'll take care of it," I lie. "You just keep reading that."

I sound like I'm the father here. I'm good at charming people, and I like to think it's my default, that I'm not faking it, but with my dad, it's as though the life’d been sucked out of me.

"I really wish you'd read it with me," he says, as I walk past him and on into the trailer. "Your mother would love to hear from you."

I flinch at his words and the sound of the door crashing closed. I hate when he says shit like that. He acts as though through God, he were able to speak to my mom. I never knew her, but if she's in heaven, I doubt she'd be okay with the beatings he used to give me or the quantity of alcohol he drinks. My dad's lying when he says he's speaking to her—he's just using it as an excuse to exorcise his demons so he can have room for more.

If he's taught me anything about love, it's that you can love hard and deep, but at the end of the day, you ruin the ones you love.

I don't know why I put that flower on Carter's windowsill. I just had all these damn thoughts swirling around my head, and I had to get them out somehow. Sure, playing dirty by doing something we used to do when we were kids. I just wanted her to actually hear me instead of the dumb-ass joker I always seem to slip into around her. This was the only way for that to happen.

It was damn hard getting the flower up to her, too. I had to act like some sort of a goddamn burglar, and I wouldn't have survived if I got caught. Thanks to the soured past between Carter and I, Kara hates me, and the last time I saw Gabe, he threatened to cut off my balls if I came near Carter again. He's a doctor, so I should believe him, but I'm an idiot, which explains why I didn’t care.

I mean, if I were smart, I wouldn't have climbed a rotting trellis adorned with thorny weeds. It was scratchy and difficult, but it was worth getting the letter to her.

The only problem is that we have to go somewhere from here, and I have no idea where in hell that'll take us.

#

I finish up with the pipes in the dentist's office and check the time on my phone. Shit, if I don't get out of here soon, I'm going to miss seeing Carter. Visiting her has been a part of my routine, and I won't let today be any different, especially after giving her the note.

I wipe at my forehead with a towel and throw my tools into my toolbox haphazardly. I usually fit seeing her into my running schedule, but today I really am going to need water. It's hot as hell, and racing against the clock to replace these leaking pipes isn't helping. Doesn't help either that these damn things are so old that the rust is rusty. Note to self—don't rinse when it's my time in the chair. The water is not safe.

On my way out, I stop by the reception desk to pick up my check. It's one I've been looking forward to because these people (a) actually pay me and (b) pay me well.

I drive, probably breaking a dozen different laws, to the gas station Carter works at. If an officer were to pull me over and ask me why I'm speeding, I doubt telling him I'm going to go see a girl would get me very far.

Thankfully, I don't get pulled over, but I still don't make it there until ten minutes after her shift has ended. I throw my truck in park, pray to the tune of whatever my dad believes in, and jog inside. Maybe she'll be here. The person after her might be running late. She could just now be leaving. Maybe …

My whole body feels as though it had fallen ten feet under at the sight of a young guy sitting behind the cash register, fiddling with a rubber band. He looks up at me, annoyed. "You need help or something?" he asks.

"Yeah," I mutter and turn to leave. "I need a lot of help."

My dad has always said we Fells fit our last name because we've already fallen and are still falling. I remember coming home with a test I failed and needed to redo for extra credit, and he told me drunkenly, "Get used to it, kid. No matter how hard we try, we fail, and then we give up."

We give up.

I don't want to give up on Carter, but I'm worried I will. I have in the past just because of simple bumps in the road, and I was lucky enough to be able to repair it all. She's done letting me repair anything, and I'm not sure I'll have the willpower to keep trying. The other thing my dad has told me is that I'm destined to end up like him. He’s told me Carter will leave me forever, I'll be a mess, I'll drink, I'll find God, I'll drink some more, find God, and so on, until I finally meet my maker. I might as well reserve a spot in hell now.

"Damn." I run my hand down my face. I've been at this all this time, and I can't give up on her now. I shouldn't be afraid of her leaving me or me pushing her away—all that's already happened. There's nowhere else to fall. I can only move up from here.

"I got your note."

I go completely still at the sound of her voice. It's always been husky with a bit of snark, something that’s attracted me to her more than anything, but she's also got this sweetness mixed in with it all. She's always been an enigma to me—a new puzzle to solve every time I see her. When she was younger, I gravitated to her because I wanted to protect her, and when I got older, it was because she intrigued me. She's not like any other girl out there.

She arches one of her thick, brown eyebrows, which have the same expressiveness as a mouth. I can tell if she's smiling or frowning or mocking me based on their tilt. Below them, her green eyes are vibrant, emotions moving like trees in a storm. I shouldn't be afraid of a girl three years younger than me, a foot shorter than me, and whom I've always called my best friend—but I'm terrified of her. You know how they talk about butterflies and all that shit? Well, I've got a bunch of hornets slamming around in my stomach, buzzing and going mad.

Most guys I've known have tried to make it their personal mission to sleep with every pretty girl they pass. I've never been one to do that. I've dated here and there, but I don't have a track record on me. I've seen my dad come off of too many alcohol-fueled one-night stands to know fucking doesn't fix anything.

I wrestle with all the self-control I've got and smirk at her. It's too damn hard for me to be serious around her, because if I am, then I worry I'll spill my guts. I want to tell her everything and purge my soul and fight for her. She is my version of going to church.

"Never climbed an ivory tower for a pretty girl before," I tell her. "Guess that makes you special."

She stares at me, her red lips pressed into a thin line. She's leaning against her blue VW bug, and I don't know how I missed her when I went running in. I probably looked panicked and out of my mind.

The bug used to be in a neighbor's yard, and Carter always loved it. I bought it for her when she was fourteen for five hundred dollars. It took me years to save up the money while paying bills. Lord knows how many lawns I mowed, how much golf equipment I caddied for rich people, or the amount of food I made at hamburger joints—all the odd jobs in between. Feeling bone-tired and broke was worth getting to see the smile on her face when I delivered the car. I’ve never felt higher. We started working on it together, and Gabe would help out, too. I guess they finished it without me.

All that work and I can’t help thinking my dad was right—maybe I’ll just end up alone. Maybe I’m not meant to love or be loved. She pushes off the car and walks around to the driver door. "You should know you can't miss something you never wanted."

"Carter I—" I've always wanted you.

The words don't come out becomes she's already in her car and high tailing it out of here.

I stare at the place where she had been standing and try to figure out what just happened. Then all of a sudden it clicks: she waited for me. She knew I'd be by, and she hung out until I got here. She might've been proving a point, but it's the first time she's gone out of her way to do anything involving me for a long time.

She waited for me.

#

Carter, 10

Boone, 13

There's a stupid stuffed pig I can't seem to win, no matter how hard I try. I can't even try to say the cups are glued or something because I'm missing by a mile. Total user error. I even managed to hit the guy manning the stall.

Carter's eyes lit up when she saw the pig—she's going through a phase, which is weird since most girls are into penguins and cats. I promised her I'd win it, but I lost all my money, and the stupid pig is still hanging from the top of the tent, mocking me.

"Dude, you're taking this breakup harder than I expected. So what if she's dating Brad Sanders? He's a hack," Declan mutters beside me. We're hidden under an alcove while Carter uses the restroom, and Declan's taking the opportunity to smoke some weed.

I didn't even realize my ex-girlfriend, Hailey Harnett, is with Brad—at the stall we were just at—who's trying to win her something. She's clapping and cheering and holding onto him as she was doing with me at school a week ago. We dated for a month. She was my first, and now we're done. The way Declan talks about dating girls makes it sound as though it were the secret key to life—well, other than pot.

It's sad when you're more excited to go broke winning a carnival game for a ten-year-old than you are about girls.

"Yeah, shit, man, I am. That was love. Serious love," I say, cupping my hand over my heart. He nods, obviously serious. In his state, I guess he doesn't understand sarcasm. Truth is, the only person I’ve ever loved and want to let myself love is Carter. She deserves someone to love her like a brother, a warrior, a best friend, a companion, and I can do that better than anyone else I know. Other than her, there aren’t many other people in my life worth loving. Besides, I’m worried that if I do end up falling in-love with someone, I’ll end up like my dad—wrecked and alone.

“Well, here, this’ll help.” He passes me his joint, and I take it. I've gotten high before, but I've always tried to stay sober around Carter. I see the way she looks at Declan when he's going all space cadet on us. It disappoints her. But right now, I'm high-strung and grumpy, and there's no way she's having a good time. This was supposed to be a treat for her—her first county fair ever.

It pisses me off this should even be considered a treat. She deserves better than this.

"Sure," I say and take a hit.

Everything shifts toward relaxation, like my body's liquid, floating on a cloud. It allows me to feel mellow for the first time all night. Normally, I've got happy on tap, but I'm having a hard time pretending today.

It's probably a mixture of not winning the pig and the fact that Carter still stood up on her tip-toes and hugged me anyway, as if I did win it. Then there's also the fact my dad's been nowhere to be found for the last few days and isn't even at any of his local haunts. I know he'll show up eventually—he always does—but I'm worried one of these days someone's going to take notice I'm living alone. The last thing I want is Child Protective Services getting involved.

Something tickles my hand, and I laugh.

"Boone?" Carter asks, lacing her fingers through mine. She always holds my hand when we’re out in public since Declan refuses to hold hers. He thinks it's weird. I don’t mind because I’m terrified I’ll lose her, even if she’s old enough to keep up. We once lost her in the middle of the mall, and I had nightmares about it for months. We ended up finding her in the middle of a clothes rack, but the whole thing scarred me. I’ll never forget the sweaty palms, the racing heart, the fear that I’d lost the one person who mattered most to me.

She gives me a weird look as I shove the joint back at Declan. She drops her hand from mine and looks away, wrapping her arms around her middle. It's the same look she always gives Declan whenever he's this way. Her eyebrows are pulled close together, and her lips are pursed, which makes her look more like an adult than a kid. She's disappointed in me, and I'll probably feel like shit about it later, but right now I'm too high to care.

"How ’bout we go ride that?" Declan asks, pointing in the direction of a spaceship-looking ride. "You'll like it, Carter. The momentum pushes you up the wall. Spins really fast."

Carter shrugs like she doesn't care, but she still eyes the ride warily as we get in line.

Declan smacks my arm, and I glare at him. He's motioning toward Hailey, who's in front of us, without Brad, and is giving me a lonely look. "I can take care of Carter. She's grown, anyway," he tells me. "Stop starin' at Hailey and go talk to her."

He shoves me forward, and I stumble away from Carter and Declan. I glance back at them and see Declan is trying to talk to Carter while she's just staring at her shoes. I'm really going to regret this later.

"Hey, Boone," Hailey giggles.

"Hi, Hailey."

"You know, Brad thinks you're jealous because you've been staring at us."

I was looking at the damn pig. "Brad's a hack," I say, repeating Declan's words.

She giggles again, and I immediately remember why our great love didn't last. That laugh of hers is too much. She's all around too much. Brad should be jealous of me, since I'm single.

"Where is he?" I ask.

"He doesn't like the rides that spin. It's okay. I have you."

The doors open up, letting people leave and more go in. I follow behind Hailey up the stairs and into the ride. Once we're leaning against the wall, I look for Carter and Declan. They're almost directly across from me, and Carter doesn't look happy at all.

I don't know if it's the pot or maybe I already feel guilty, but I think I'm going to be sick. The lights go out except for the DJ's booth, like this is a club, not a carnival ride. Hailey gropes my hand, and before I can try to get off of the ride, it starts spinning.

Across the ride, I hear Declan cackling like an idiot and cursing like a sailor. Beside me, Hailey is screaming and giggling, grabbing at my hand. Then, all of a sudden, it's as though my ears hone in on Carter, because I hear her shriek and then start crying. She made that same noise when she broke her arm a few years ago.

"Stop the ride!" I yell.

No one hears me, and it's as though I were living in purgatory as the momentum pushes me up the wall. I'm definitely going to be sick. This isn't as when I've gotten high before—it's not taking the edge off. It's making everything worse. I should be over there with Carter because Declan can't take care of her. It's not that he doesn't know how to; it's just he can't.

When the ride stops, my heart is pounding in my ears, and all my meals from the last decade force their way up. I push it all down and stumble blindly toward the direction Carter was in. I can still hear her crying, saying Declan's name and mine.

Then the lights come on, and I realize why she's hysterical.

There's a clump of her hair stuck in the slat from where the board moved up the wall and blood is dripping down her forehead.

Declan stands beside her, staring dumbly, as I put my hand on the gaping cut on her head to stop the bleeding. She winces, but I press harder.

My dad falls a lot and hits his head, and the doctors always tell me head wounds bleed a lot. You'd have thought that would've prepared me for this, but it didn't. I'm scared out of my mind.

How can I be her protector or her brother if I can barely keep something like this from happening? She was my responsibility tonight because Declan wasn’t—is never—equipped to take care of her the way I can. But what if I can’t? What if I’m just meant to be my dad—empty and exhausted and alone?

But the thing is, Carter is the one pure, untainted thing in my life, and I can’t let her go. I just have to be better—work to be as good as she is.