The books

the books

The next morning, we get a call. My mom had a heart attack. As dad sped to St. Farrell's hospital, I stared out the window, not believing if this was true or not. We get to the hospital and go into her hospital room, finding her. Dead.

For the past month I couldn’t sleep. Dad had let me get out of school every once in a while, but he always told me, “Carter, you’re going to have to go someday. I know this is hard to handle, but I know we’ll get through it.” Each time he said that I held back the tears and each night I gave in. She had so much going for her. A wonderful family, lots of friends, and a fun and well paying job, but all that was destroyed because of one thing. Cancer.

6 months later  

School. My worst nightmare. I slouch in my seat, waiting for that heavenly bell to ring. I doodle on my notebook, to give the teacher an illusion of me taking notes. Ring! Ring! Ring. By the time the bell chimes, I’m out the door. Holding my books and my Beatles sweatshirt I walk down the halls stopping at my locker. I get stares and I hear whispers. “She’s so fake,” says Megan, the ninth grade mean girl. Surprisingly, There are more mean girls. I sprint to the bus, plunking down to my seat. I rummage in my bag, looking for my sketchbook. “Shoot,” I say under my breath. I left my sketchbook at home. Out of all things that I had to leave, it just had to be my sketchbook. I close my eyes, and take a little time just to, think. I feel a bump from the other side of my seat. Cork. The biggest jock in school. We used to go out, but then he went to jail, which made me realize that bad boys aren’t worth it. I look over to the window. “Hey Bru.” He says considering the fact that I have brown hair. I try to ignore him, and look down at my skinny blue jeans and black beatles sweatshirt. Perfect timing. My stop arrives, and I push right past him. I swing my backpack on my shoulder, heading toward the rusty double doors. Three boys come out the stop with me. They all are trying to pull that gangster look, but are desperately failing. My anxiety kicks in and I start sweating. I’m sweaty in middle of January. The howling wind blows against my face. “Go away.” I say softly. The power of this weather softens my voice more, to the point where they can’t hear me. The boys run faster catching up to me. “What do you want?” I avoid eye contact as I ask them. “You.”

I reach in my pocket grabbing my blade out. “Whoa!” says the kid with piercings across his face. The group of boys slide back slowly and one almost falls back because of the ice. “Bother me again, and you’ll need to deal with this!”

My voice shakes, and so do my hands. I walk back home and open the door. It’s January 15th and my birthday’s coming soon. I go tell dad that for the last time, I don’t need anything. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

I shake my head. Mom would always get make me a coupon book. She would always say “Homemade is the way to go!” Tears swell down my face and I go back to reality. “Carter? Are you okay?” I’m i the kitchen, with dad crying. I wipe the tears away and say, “I’m fine.” I rush to my room and go to bed. Soon it’s morning, The bright lights from the window open my eyes. I leave the shove on my sweatshirt, and leave the house in pajamas. I walk into the snow and look at my boots, not really caring how they look. People at my stop give me stares, but there's always Kate.

Kate and I always say “good morning” to each other, discuss how our mornings are and complain to each other if they were crap. Kate doesn't apologize about my mom, she just avoids it. I like Kate ‘cuz she’s real. Most people are fake and just try to fit in. Kate doesn't care, and neither do I. She isn’t considered as a friend because when we step into those school doors, we don’t know each other. A yellow bus comes near the curb. We get in and go to school. “Hey, did you meet my friends?”

Ugh. it’s Cork. “Yeah. I gave them a little piece of my mind.” I swallow hard. Cork leans against the bus seat, sneaking his arm over my shoulder. “A little?”

“More or less.”

“They told me that you beat the crap out of them and cut them.”

“I DID NOT!”, My face goes red, a mixture of embarrassment and fury. The next thing I need is for steam to come out of my ears. “I only threatened them with something.”, I say. “Why do you care anyway? Why are you bothering me? Why are you even here?” I had so many questions and they were all rushing to the surface. I get out of the bus and head to class. Everything flew by so quickly. Class, bullies, time. I decide to walk home and on my way out I see a boy. He’s on the ground in the hall, picking his books  up. “Are you okay? I lean in helping him and grab his stuff.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He looks up at me. “I’m Max.”

“Hey. I’m Carter. Nice to meet you. Are you a freshman?”

“Yeah.”

I pick up his iPod and glance at it. “You listen to the beatles too?”

“Yup, they’re like the best band of all time.”

I smile agreeing. “I know right!!”

“In the sixties of course.”

“Yeah.” Through the weeks Max and I started to hang out, and eating lunch together and I soon made a friend. I didn’t care what they thought of us, I was just glad I had someone to hang out and bond with. That’s when I knew that I had made a friend.