Chapter Eight

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"Mr Parrish. Why are you here?"

Carter stared at Mrs Abrahams blankly, dazed at the surprise in her tone. Seth shot him a neutral look from his side.

As usual, they had come in a few seconds after the bell, when their peers were already settling down in their seats. Mrs Abrahams simply pulled her glasses off her nose, letting them dangle from the thin metal chain around her neck, to stare at Carter.

"Uhm, what?" He finally asked, a little lost.

All the teacher had to do was arch an eyebrow at him to jog up his memory. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. His classmates started looking up curiously as he began backing into the door.

"I forgot," he drawled.

"Clearly."

"Right, uhm—" Carter looked at Seth. His face didn't give much away, but Carter could tell he was interested. "Kinda in the wrong class," he explained quietly, holding by the door.

"Not kind of, Mr Parrish. You are," Mrs Abraham's said firmly. "Now, if you please, let Mr Queens get to his own class and close the door on your way out. Quickly too. Mr Thomas has an infamous distaste for late arrivals."

Seth smiled subtly at the look Carter shot him before he rushed out Mrs Abraham's classroom, shutting the door behind him. He sped down the hallway, turned a right and hurried to a door in the middle of the next hallway, to the left. He knocked. There was no reply so he tentatively turned the doorknob and pushed the door open just a little.

"Uhm, may I?"

Mr Thomas was a young man. For the average of the school staff at least. He always wore a variety of neutral-colored shirts, buttoned up to the very last button and tucked into khakis. Through his thick, black-framed glasses, lens-distorted eyes found Carter's, disapprovingly. The man was already facing the board, chalk in hand, half-written expression scribbled down in tiny math-teacher writing.

"Just come inside, Mr Parrish," was all he said before going back to writing on the board. Carter pursed his lips slipping into the classroom. He stared at the teacher, hovering at the front of the room awkwardly.

"Unlike your football games, my classes generally start on time and I do not enjoy disturbances. If you could find a seat and try to catch up, that would be great," Mr Thomas said without lifting his eye line from the board.

Carter's lips parted, taken aback.

He let his eyes search the classroom for the first time. Melanie was right there in the first row. She smiled a small encouraging smile at him, before focusing back on what she was copying. A few rows behind her, Carter found Johnny. He held his gaze there for a couple of seconds as he moved to a seat, hoping Johnny would lift his eyes from his notebook and smile at him too. That didn't happen. Carter pulled back one of the only two available chairs and tried to shrink inconspicuously in the back row.

"Hi."

Carter whipped his head to the side to find a pale, dark-haired, light-eyed boy staring at him. His whisper had been so quiet Carter wasn't even sure he'd even heard it. But those big blue eyes were definitely looking at him.

Carter let his own gaze sweep the length of the other boy. He wore a white button-down shirt, which was unusual on its own for a high school kid, but it was the slightly too-big head and the dopey smile that stirred Carter's memory. He had definitely seen him before.

"I'm Roy," the kid muttered, so low under his breath he was practically mouthing it. "Bella's friend." Right. "And Lauren's boyfriend," Roy saw fit to add. Proudly, too. "You have Spanish with her. First period."

Right. Bella's girl friend. Roy's girlfriend. Lauren Santiago. She always smiled politely at Carter when they saw each other in class, but lots of people did that every day. Many people knew him because of football, but Carter could never hope to know all the names and faces back.

"Yeah, I know," he said, nonetheless. The truth was he hadn't known right away, but no need to tell Roy that.

"Any questions, Mr Parrish?" Mr Thomas asked. When Carter turned to the front of the room, the teacher was still scribbling on the board, his back facing them.

"No, sir," Carter mumbled.

Of all the moments, Johnny chose that one to look to the back of the room and meet Carter's gaze. For some reason, Carter felt like he should wave or something. Say 'hi'. Smile. Johnny looked away all-too-quickly, before Carter could do any of that.

"If you do, please save them for the end of class. I don't like interruptions."

"Yes, sir."

Melanie looked back from the front row to give him a creased-eyebrow, lip-biting look that told Carter he probably wasn't expected to have answered that. Carter shrugged. He was a football player. Coach had taught him to always say 'yes, sir' after any indication. If they didn't, they got yelled at. And after that, they were expected to say 'yes, sir' in the end, or more yelling was sure to follow.

Determined to keep his head down and get through the rest of the class, Carter got out his notebook and pen. Just as he did, Mr Thomas grabbed the eraser and wiped the top half of the board. Great.

Carter looked around him, at the multiple heads of kids he didn't know that well, oscillating between board and page, their pens moving frantically in total quiet. With firm resignation—not quite resolve—he grabbed his pen and started copying what he could. Page and a half, twenty minutes and one hand cramp later, Mr Thomas instructed them to solve a few problems, telling them what was left in the end of class would be their homework.

That was the only moment Carter heard a little rustling as students shifted slightly. He saw Mel lean in towards the redhead to her right and Johnny turn to the kid with green dyed hair behind him.

"Psst."

Carter looked at Roy.

"We usually work in pairs," Roy told him, even though Carter was already starting to get that idea. "Everyone usually does, at least. We're an uneven number, so I normally end up working alone. I don't mind, actually. I often enjoy working on my own, but since you're here I don't mind partnering up."

Carter nodded slowly. Those were a lot of words for a single rambling breath. He smiled faintly. "Sure."

Roy grinned. "Alright, partner."

Carter bit back the smile. "To be honest, I'm not sure how useful I can be. Still a little lost."

"Oh, that's fine. I can send you my notes from the beginning of class if you want. And the ones from earlier in the year."

"That'd be great, Roy. Thanks."

Roy grinned. "Any time, partner." He swung his fist in front of his body. "I can send it to Bella and then she can give it to you."

"Or I could just give you my number at the end of class," Carter countered.

"Or that."

Carter swallowed a laugh. He had never truly spoken to Bella's friends before, but somehow this wasn't what he expected. Roy seemed like oil to Bella's water. Carter's stepsister was stubborn, brash and impatient. And Roy, well... wasn't.

Carter spent the next fifteen minutes watching his 'partner' solve problems he couldn't yet quite understand at first. He thought he caught onto the thought process, after Roy worked through them, but he was definitely going to need those notes.

When the bell rang, he gathered his stuff and rose from his seat. At the door, he bumped into someone, trying to walk through at the same time. Their shoulders clashed and Carter's arm hit the door frame before they both stepped back.

"Sorry."

Johnny's luminous brown eyes smiled back at him. The dull pain in Carter's arm faded.

"I'm starting to think you need to be labeled a high-class liability around doors."

Carter laughed self-consciously, scratching the back of his neck. "I just need to watch where I'm going better," he said.

Johnny cocked his head. "You'd think they'd teach you how to do that on your football practices. Having to run around with other people trying to tackle you and all."

Carter had to step to the side to let a girl leave, but he held Johnny's gaze as he did. "Guess I lose all my focus off the field," he finally said.

Johnny bit down on his lip and Carter's eyes followed the action. Johnny saw it. The corner of his lips twitched slightly and he looked at Carter's arm – which he hadn't noticed he'd been rubbing.

"Hope that wasn't the golden arm," he said.

Carter's eyebrows pinched in confusion.

"Your throwing arm," Johnny clarified. "My dad would disown me if I put Carter Parrish out of commission."

"Oh." Carter smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, it's fine. My bad, anyway."

Johnny's lips curved slightly as he nodded. "Well..." he mused, stepping toward the door. "See ya," he delivered easily, before taking off.

See ya, Carter answered, but only in his head and a second too late. He watched Johnny's back move away from him, chastising himself for being too slow.

"Later gator, partner," Roy called as he passed him on the door.

Carter offered him a clipped smiled before the kid darted out with his too-big backpack too tight around his shoulders. Carter walked off in the opposite direction. Mel caught up to him in the hallway, falling into step next to him.

"Hey."

"Hey," she echoed brightly.

"You headed for the gym?"

Melanie hummed in confirmation. "Cheer practice," she said.

Carter nodded knowingly. The varsity cheer squad practiced in the gym, while the football team trained outside. The respective coaches said it was good to keep the cheers secret for the game, for an extra motivation factor. Carter always thought they liked to keep them separated for practices, because the girls distracted the players.

"How's AP Calculus, in your humble opinion?" Mel asked conversationally.

"What if I'd like to keep my humble opinion to myself?"

Melanie laughed. "That bad, huh?"

"That teacher really didn't like me, did he?" He asked. They turned a right together.

Melanie seemed to actually ponder his question seriously. "He didn't dislike you," she trailed off. Carter shot her a pointed look. She laughed again. "No, really. He just didn't love you right away. That's why it might've felt weird to you." Her lips curved knowingly. "You're not used to people not falling head over heels for that handsome smile the second they meet you. Even teachers."

Carter frowned, despite the light teasing note on her tone. "That doesn't happen."

Except, did it?

It was Melanie's turn to give him a look.

The truth was people generally liked him. He thought back to how his peers greeted him eagerly in the hallways, teachers smiled at him and praised his performance in the latest games in class, or even other students' parents came to him after games to congratulate him. He was liked. Did that mean he did not know how to be disliked?

One particular face came to his mind. A tanned, brown-eyed face, framed by thick dark Santoro hair.

Bella hadn't really liked him straight away. And the truth was, despite hating her animosity, Carter had never quite gone out of his way to make her like him either. It just wasn't what he did. He had never had to. He thought back to the first dinner joining the two families, before the engagement. Carter, his mother and the Santoros. Bella hadn't ostracized him then. She hadn't asked eager questions about school, the football team or his life in general, like her father and brothers, but she hadn't been the current bitter delight she was these days either.

"Don't get like that," Mel said with an eye roll. There was a fond smile on her lips, though. "I'm sure Mr Thomas will warm up to you eventually."

Carter wasn't so sure. It didn't help when Mel tilted her head pensively and added through a grin, "And if he doesn't, you'll live too."

Carter sighed loudly. "I have a lot of studying to do if I want to catch up with you guys." There was a certain dreadful defeat in his tone.

He wasn't a slack-off by far, but he wasn't exactly the kind of student that studied excessively either. It wasn't like he was lazy, but football did keep a lot of his time and dedication. After practice, he didn't have a lot of energy to study for long hours. He couldn't really go to bed too late either, or he'd be too tired the next day. So that left him with weekends to study, which required a good sense of time management. He had to prioritize and, seen as those were the classes he had less trouble with, he didn't usually lost too much time with math, focusing instead on more problematic subjects, like Physics or English.

"Can I help?"

Carter looked at Melanie, unsurprised. Mel had always been a helper. It was one of the things he was attracted to, when he met her. She was pretty, sure. With thick, curly brown hair, full lips, golden-brown eyes and a smooth caramel complexion. She was curvy, and slim, and stunning. But a lot of girls were pretty. Carter had come to the conclusion, over the years, that he didn't really care about that.

When he met Mel, though, she was nice. Genuinely and effortlessly. Sweet, and kind, with an availability and willingness to help. She was never unpolite, always correct. Didn't keep grudges, didn't rush to conclusions, didn't offer unwarranted intrusive opinions. Seth was Carter's best friend since childhood, but Mel had started to feel like a close second, when they started dating sophomore year.

Carter smiled gratefully. "Can you can cram into my head everything you've done since the beginning of the year?"

Mel shrugged. "I could try. You're a quick learner. How's tomorrow?"

Carter raised his eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"Yup. Can't do today, because of class president duties after practice, but tomorrow after four I'm all yours."

"Thanks, Mel. You're the best."

She smiled at him, as they reached the corridor that led to the gym. She stopped in front of the girls' locker room. Two girls in ponytails, clad in white and green uniforms, passed them to go in. Carter stepped aside to let them and one of them smiled at him.

Melanie bit back a grin.

"You just can't turn off the charm, even when you don't notice it," she taunted playfully.

Carter rolled his eyes dismissively.

"Some people would take it as a compliment," Mel noted.

"Do I meet you out here after practice tomorrow?" He asked, deliberately ignoring her second try at a jab.

"Sure. We can go to the library," she said.

Carter frowned. "Our school has a library?" He smiled when he saw Mel laugh at his cheesy attempt at a joke.

"Stick to being pretty. We can't all be comics."

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