Of Fights and Letters: Chapter 5: Carter

AN: Okay, so I'm trying something new; Carter's POV. Let me know if you guys like it, or would you rather that I just stick with Naomi's POV? Because, I have to admit, it was fun to write in Carter's POV...I'd like to do it again. Enjoy!

Wow. Just, wow. She is so beautiful, I thought. I knew I should have stopped staring at her in case she woke up, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. Okay, so maybe I had a little crush on the new girl. Could I get any more cliche?

I sighed and laid back, trying to get her off my mind. It didn’t work, seeing as she was crushing my hand and sleeping on my chest. I heard a sudden noise escape from her lips; she began mumbling and groaning, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her.

She woke up, blinked the sleep out of her eyes, and looked around. She finally noticed that she was holding my hand and that I was laughing at her. A brief look of confusion flit across her face, and then she realized that she had fallen asleep on me.

She became very flustered and began volleying question after question at me, worry that she'd hurt me evident in her voice. I just smiled and shook my head at her, noticing the small blush that slowly spread over her face.

She asked more questions about my back, and just when I was about to answer her, she added, “And… What happened to your chest? That couldn’t have been Aaron.” My entire face darkened; that was not a subject I wanted to talk about, least of all with her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grit out from between my clenched teeth, turning my face away from her.

I suddenly felt cool fingers underneath my chin, and in the next moment I was looking into her eyes. “Okay,” she said with a small smile, “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” I smiled back at her, relieved that she was leaving the subject be, and just as I was opening my mouth to ask how she was doing, Agatha, the nurse, came through the infirmary’s double doors.

She said, not unkindly, that she had to redress my bandages and that Naomi couldn't stay there while she did so.

I could see that Naomi was going to protest leaving, but I said, “No, it’s okay, thank you for staying here as long as you did, but you should go home; school’s already over and it’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She shut her mouth, and just as she was getting up, she grabbed a scrap of loose paper out of her bag and she scribbled something on it. She then carefully leaned over me, being overly cautious of my ‘wounds,’ if they could even be called that, and she gave me a light hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I was stunned. I sat there, gaping at her, and I vaguely heard her tell me to get better. And she said something about...calling her later? What? But I didn't have her-Oh. She'd written it on the paper.

I bet I looked like an idiot right then; my mouth was hanging open and I was gaping at the paper like it was from outer space. I suddenly thought that she was only being polite, and I didn’t want polite; I wanted her to give me her phone number because we were friends, not because she felt responsible to check up on me. I thrust it back in her direction, before I could change my mind, saying, “You don’t want to give me your phone number; I’ll be fine. You probably won’t want to be seen around me either; I’ll just finish showing you around and then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

I wasn't looking at her face, but I could practically hear the smirk in her voice as she told me that she did want to give me her number because 1) she was worried about me (that's new), 2)she wanted to know me better (as a friend, but still, also new), and 3) she thought I was a genuine person (wow, nobody has ever complimented me like that). I felt her fingers gently close mine around the paper, and then she turned to leave.

I couldn’t help the small grin that forced its way onto my face, and I whispered, “Thank you, Naomi, thank you,” thinking that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

I didn’t think she had heard me, but she apparently did, because she softly responded, “No, Carter, thank you.” And as she walked away from me, I couldn’t help but think that I had finally found someone who cared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The nurse checked my back and then said that I could go home; I tried to make her let me stay, but I, of course, had no such luck. So, here I was, sitting in my car with the engine idling, trying to come up with an excuse to leave my driveway. Unfortunately, before I could come up with anything, my father spotted me and yelled at me to get in the house. I slowly turned off the engine, grabbed my backpack, and got out of my car. I took as long as possible walking from my car to the front door, but the walk still wasn’t as long as I would’ve liked. All too soon I was in the house, and my father was standing in front of me with his arms crossed. I began to tremble uncontrollably; I knew what would come later tonight, and I was dreading it.

“Where have you been?” my father asked, his eyes alight with a manic rage. He was in one of his worst moods-which just made things even worse for me.

“Uh, well, this guy at school, he, uh, threw me against the wall and I had to go to the nurse, and a-apparently my back was pretty bad, because the nurse kept me in the infirmary. T-then I fell asleep, because she gave me painkillers, and-”

“ENOUGH!” He boomed; it was so loud that the pictures began to quake on the walls. “Do you mean to tell me that you got into a fight, boy?” I shrunk back and squished myself against the door. I knew that if I didn’t answer, he would hit me even harder, so I stammered out, “Y-yes, I did, but he attacked me and-”

“ENOUGH!” He bellowed again, just as loudly, but this time not only did my ears ring, but my cheek stung. He hit me so hard that my eyes began to water; it took all of my self-control to not let any moisture out of my eyes, because then I would earn another smack for being weak. He lifted me by the collar of my shirt and slammed me against the door, re-opening the wounds I received earlier.

He put his face very close to mine. His breath smelled sour, like stale alcohol and vomit. “I will let you go up and do your homework, but just know that if you get into another fight again, I will not be so lenient,” he said, and then he dropped me and I slid down the door. He remained standing over me, probably trying to make me cry out so he could hit me. I wasted no time staring back; I quickly snatched up my backpack and ran up the stairs, not wanting to give him time to change his mind.

After finishing my homework-which was hell-I went into my bathroom and took a cool shower, trying to soothe my aggravated skin. After getting out, I put on my boxers and a pair of basketball shorts, leaving my shirt off so I could re-bandage myself. As I was looking at myself in the mirror, I saw just how awful I looked; I had dark purple bags under my eyes, and many scars scattered over my body, some puckered some not. I even had a few cuts, freshly split, criss-crossed across my back and a few on my stomach. The bruises were the worst, though. Some were purple-black, but the majority were a sickly yellow-green color, making my skin look sallow; it was overall a gruesome sight, and I was disgusted with myself. I quickly wrapped up my back and torso, without daring to look in the mirror, fearing I would break down at the sight of my mangled body.

Upon returning to my room, I flopped down on my bed, grabbed my phone, and dialed Naomi’s number.

Ring. Maybe I shouldn’t call. Ring. She’s probably doing something more important. Ring. She most likely forgot about me-I mean, everyone else does. Ring. I should just hang up n-

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh, hey, Naomi. It’s-it’s Carter. I just wanted to let you know that I’m good now.”

“Oh! Hey Carter! I’m so glad you called me-my brother is asleep and I was just wondering how you were doing.”

Oh. Oh. She was thinking about me?

“Oh, yeah, well, I’m okay, so, yeah, just called to...tell you that.” Could I be any lamer?

I closed my eyes and waited for her response, listening to her calm breaths through the receiver.

“Would...would you like to hang out tomorrow after school?”

My brain froze; I could barely think. Was she...did she...she wanted to hang out with me? She wanted to?

“Uh, Carter? You there?”

Oh, right she was still on the phone. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Um, yeah, no I want to go, that’d be great.”

“Alright, awesome; I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, Carter? Don’t forget! Bye!”

I heard the dial tone, and pulled the phone away from my face. “Bye,” I whispered to my empty room. And, yes, I did break out into a Cheshire-cat grin, thanks for keeping track of my cliche moments.

I put my phone on my nightstand and lay back on my bed, just staring at the ceiling. I wondered what my life would have been like if I didn’t have the worst luck ever; well, maybe not anymore, I reminded myself, now I have Naomi. Perhaps my luck has changed for the better.

I smiled and shook my head at the thought of Naomi; I doubted that I’d ever be able to figure that girl out. Strangely enough, my last thoughts before I drifted off to sleep were of the awesome sandwich I was going to make myself for lunch tomorrow; basil, tomato, mozzarella, oil, salt...What? Just because I’m a guy, doesn’t mean that my last thoughts as I fell asleep had to be of a certain girl; I’d rather talk to the girl and dream about eating my sandwich, thank you very much.

Cliches: two. Cliches avoided: one.