Chapter 11

Thursday after school,Carter messages me with a link to a trailer for the movie we both wanted to see. I actually am working, so I couldn’t go even if I wanted to, but I don’t bother offering up that explanation. He would probably just counter with a later showing, and I’m not going to a late showing with him. Alone with Carter Mahoney driving me home late at night? I’ll pass.
I also don’t want to tell him I’m at work because then he might pay me a visit, and I don’t want to see him. It’s hard enough to keep him out of my mind, and I already had to see him at school.
Friday as soon as history class lets out, I feel Carter’s eyes on me, so I don’t turn to look at him. He follows me out into the hall, falling into step beside me.
“You again?” I ask, somewhat lightly.
“Your favorite stalker,” he returns.
“That’s a factual statement,” I mutter.
“Aw, I’m your favorite? I’m gonna tell Parsons. He’s gonna be so jealous.”
I roll my eyes. “I meant the stalker part.”
“Says the girl who stalks my Instagram like a clingy ex,” he volleys back.
Meeting his gaze as we walk, I ask, “Did you need something, Carter?”
Nodding once, he says, “Yes, actually. We have our first away game tonight. You gonna wish me luck?”
Sarcastically chambering my arm, then thrusting it in the air in a faux cheer, I say, “Go Longhorns!”
Carter smirks. “That’s more like it.”
“What, your rally girl isn’t giving you enough attention? I thought she was the best,” I remark innocently.
Carter nods. “It’s all right. I find moderate jealousy cute in a girl. Keep it up.”
“I don’t want you to find me cute,” I mutter.
“Then don’t wear skirts to school,” he says, nodding to the suede button skirt I wore today. “Is that the one I took off you?”
Shooting him a warning look and glancing around to make sure no one heard, I hiss, “No, it is not. That one was corduroy.”
“Looks the same.”
I look down at my skirt, appraising it. “Nuh uh. This one flares more, the other one is straighter.” Shaking my head, I look ahead and keep walking. “This is an absurd conversation to be having. Don’t you have plays to study or cheerleaders to screw? Go away.”
“I was paying you a compliment,” he informs me. Then, just to annoy me, he reaches over and fingers the laced up area around the bust of my black top. “I like this, too. Just a peek of cleavage, all restrained, just like you. You’re a little tease, aren’t you, Zoey?”
Swatting his hand away, I shoot him a dirty look. “Don’t touch me.”
“I touched your shirt, not you.”
“Unless the alternative is tumbling off a cliff, don’t touch me or anything attached to me. If I am about to plummet to my death and only you are around to save me, then you have my permission to reach out and grab me. That is the only scenario—and frankly, if I find myself alone on a cliff with you, you’re probably the one pushing me, so I don’t see much chance of it happening.”
“That’d be a grisly way to go, wouldn’t it?” he remarks, shaking his head. “Free fall then splat.” Missing a beat, he says, “Anyway, while your overwhelming team spirit is a nice pick-me-up, that’s not what I wanted from you. After the game, we’re all getting together for a party at Erika’s house. I want you to come.”
“I think you already invited me to this,” I tell him. “In any case, the answer was ‘no thanks.’”
Nodding once, he says, “Yeah, I remember, I just figured I’d give you a chance to make a better decision.”
“Oh, I’ve made the better decision,” I assure him.
“Do you know where Erika lives?”
“I do, but I have no interest in going to her parties. Not to mention, if the whole team is going to be there, that means Jake would be there, and you must be out of your ever-loving mind if you think I’m going to put myself in that situation. Me at a football party with you, Jake, and Shayne, not to mention the whole rest of the team. I’ve seen Carrie, okay? I know how that story ends.”
“With you exhibiting telekinetic powers?”
I nod my head. “Exactly. And I’ve gotta tell you, pig’s blood is not a good look for me.”
He takes an extra long time looking me over, then says, “I don’t know, you might be able to pull it off.”
“Zero percent chance. That party has trap written all over it. You’d have to literally lobotomize me before you’d get a version of me who would agree to come to your jock get-together. Sorry. It’s a hard pass.”
“I’m not gonna let Jake hurt you, Zoey,” he says, more seriously than I expect. “I don’t think he would anyway. Honestly, I don’t think the guy has the stomach for it. He’s the one who wanted to rough you up, and he couldn’t even finish the job.”
I shoot him a wary look and inch away from him. “You don’t have to say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m just saying, Parsons is nothing to be afraid of. All bark, no bite.”
“Every single syllable from your lips right now helps make the case for why I won’t be coming to the party,” I tell him.
“You’re coming to the party,” he says, simply.
“I’m absolutely not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go have lunch. Good luck at the game tonight.”
I go to walk away from him, assuming he’ll let it drop, but Carter surprises me by calling out, “I’m trying to be nice to you, Zoey.”
I keep my gaze trained on the ground, shake my head, and keep walking.

Thanks to Carter,we get wings for dinner. It’s a little thing, but it puts everyone in a good mood. My mom doesn’t have to cook, Hank has never encountered a chicken wing he didn’t like, and my brother and I certainly aren’t complaining, either.
It’s the little luxuries you don’t think about until you can’t afford them anymore. I never realized I enjoyed the occasional wing night at home until they were no longer an option. Since we got this treat that we used to have when we had just a little more wiggle room in our dinner budget, it seems to make my parents feel like they’re in a better place than they are. Normally, stress is present at the dinner table like a fifth mouth to feed, but tonight everyone is in better spirits.
Mom wants to continue the good night, so we do another thing we haven’t done in a while—break out the board games. I lose all track of time until my phone lights up, alerting me to a message from Carter.
“Party starts in a half hour.”
“Have fun,” I type back.
“You coming?”
“I’ve told you ‘no’ 547 times,” I tell him.
“All right,” he sends back.
I frown, not sure if he’s saying all right, like he gives up, or all right, like I’ll hear from him again in an hour.
Ten minutes later, my phone starts vibrating. It’s Grace’s number flashing across the screen, so I go ahead and answer it.
“What’s up, Grace?”
The volume of her voice, apparently. I flinch, dragging the phone from my ear as she squeals incoherently into the phone.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” I say. “I didn’t catch a word of that.”
“We just got invited to a party at Erika Martin’s house!”
Dread slithers through me. Seriously, Carter? Trying to use Grace to force me into going to that party? “Who invited you?”
“Shauna from church, she’s on the cheer team. She just texted me and said they’re having a party tonight and we should come. Both of us—she invited you, too.”
“She didn’t invite us, Grace. Carter did. He’s been trying to get me to come to this party—” I stop, seeing my mom’s ears perk up at the sound of Carter’s name. Sighing heavily, I cover the mic on my phone and tell her, “Give me a minute.”
“Honey, if you have a social gathering to go to with your friends—”
“I don’t,” I say firmly, walking into the other room and turning my attention back to Grace. “Listen, I know you’re excited, but we can’t go to that party. God knows what they’ll be up to. It’s not going to be like youth group parties. They’ll probably be drinking and hooking up and—it’s not a place for us.”
“But I’ve never been invited to one of their parties before,” she complains. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“You know what? I’m curious what would happen if I reached my hand down that little garbage disposal hole in the sink to retrieve a lost spoon, but not curious enough to try it. Jake is at that party, Grace.”
“I know he is, but Carter will be there, too.”
Eyes widening, I tell her, “That’s the problem! You’re literally describing the problem. They aren’t good guys, Grace. They’re not safe guys. You’re right when you say they’re faster than us. We’re in bumper cars on a metal track, and they’re off-roading somewhere in… whatever the fastest car you can think of is. Resist temptation.”
“This isn’t temptation, it’s just a party,” she insists. “We don’t have to do anything we don’t wanna do. We can still be us and go to a party with the popular kids.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “It’s not safe. I’m sorry to be a buzz kill, but no. I won’t go there.”
“But I want to,” she complains. “What if we just went for an hour? One hour. What could happen in one hour? We won’t drink or do anything we shouldn’t.”
“No. Carter is trying too hard to get me there, Grace. It’s not because he’s up to anything good. No way. I’m sorry.”
“I think you’re bein’ a little paranoid, Zoey,” Grace snaps. “Not every guy wants to assault you. It’s not even Carter that issued this invite, it was Shauna.”
“Because he messaged me ten minutes ago askin’ me to come and I told him no for the third time. This was just his plan B.”
“You know what? You’re bein’ so self-obsessed right now, you can’t even consider that maybe Shauna likes me, that maybe she wants me to come hang out with them. Maybe it’s not all about you, Zoey.”
I sigh, letting my head fall back against the wall. “That is not how I meant it, Grace. It’s just… you don’t understand because I haven’t told you everything, but please trust me on this. I’m not bein’ self-obsessed. I’m not bein’ paranoid. This hasCarter’s fingerprints all over it. I promise you he is the one behind this invitation.”
Her tone is low and disappointed. “Whatever. I’m sorry I wanted us to actually go out and try something new and maybe have some fun with our peers.”
Before I can reply, she hangs up on me. Glaring at my screen, I open up Instagram and go to my messages, telling Carter, “Thanks a lot, asshole. Now Grace is mad at me and I’m STILL not coming to the party.”
“Remember what I told you about how you don’t always have to fight tooth and nail?” he replies.
“When you were holding me against my will and touching me without my consent in my own driveway? Yes, Carter, I do remember that.”
Since he’s not an idiot, he doesn’t respond to that angrily laid trap.
I’m too mad after all that to even focus on the game, plus now that Carter has come up, my mother is bleeding curiosity and asking me a million questions about the party and why I don’t want to go. It really should be enough that Jake is there. No one should expect me to want to go to a party he’s at—Jake, who cornered me and touched me inappropriately when there wasn’t alcohol involved—but everyone sucks, and I’m so pissed off, I just want to go to bed.