Chapter Thirty-Six

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*There is use of homophobic slurs and crude language in this chapter*

Walking home, Carter shoved his closed fists in his pockets, locking his jaw with cementing tension. His brain felt like a still iceberg in the dark night, floating heavy and frozen, waiting for the catastrophic crash to erupt. 

The crash only came when he got to his room, though.

His mom greeted him as she left her car, and Carter passed her without acknowledgement, rushing inside. He nearly knocked into Frankie on his way up the stairs, and shut his door with an audible bang right in Bella's face. 

The jittery panic settled in as soon as he dropped his bags on the floor. When he finally sat down on his bed, his head was spinning.

A wave of cold, paralyzing anxiety rushed down his body, looping around his ribcage and slithering its way inside, around his heart, gripping with crippling force. He sunk his head into his open hands, elbows propped onto his knees, holding his breath for a couple of seconds. When that only increased the sensation of dizziness, Carter kneaded his fingers through his hair and pulled. He kept pulling as his mind worked through the latest thread of events.

Johnny was hurt. Somebody had hurt him. He was worried. He wanted Johnny to let him help. And then Coach walked in.

Coach saw them.

Coach knew.

Somebody knew.

There was a knock on his door.

"May I?" Mike's voice asked, opening a little when Carter didn't answer. "Dinner is ready. Wanna come down?"

Carter stood up then, looking at the time on his phone. It was past nine. He hadn't noticed time go by. He walked to his door and opened it.

"Actually, I haven't showered yet," he said in a low voice.

Mike nodded. "Okay. I'll let them know you'll be coming down after."

Carter tried to convey a grateful smile, but it came off feeble-like. Mike left him nonetheless, to join his family downstairs for dinner. Carter slipped into the bathroom.

The shower did nothing to ease his mind. And he lost track of time again. When he finally came down, only his plate and Tony's tuna lasagna were on the table. Frankie and Luca were sitting on the couch with little Charlie between them.

"Your mom's in the kitchen helping Bella with the dishes," Frankie said over his shoulder. "My dad's outside with Mike, trying to fix the reclining lever on the passenger seat."

"We left you a full dose though," Luca added, referring to the sizable corner piece of lasagna left on the tray.

Carter wasn't very hungry though. Or hungry at all. His stomach felt like a rock-hard bundle of intricate knots.

He grabbed his tableware in one hand and the lasagna tray in the other and walked into the kitchen, just in time to see his mother and Bella laugh at something. The sight sent another pulse of dull discomfort through his body. 

They both turned to look at him, as he set everything he was carrying on the table. Bella's cheerful expression fell completely and she turned back around to the open dishwasher with an eye roll. His mother watched him get a Tupperware box from a cupboard on the side and use his clean fork and knife to accommodate the leftover lasagna inside.

"You're not eating, honey?" She asked softly, as he closed the box and moved to store it inside the fridge.

Carter shook his head as way of answer and Abby tilted her head to the side.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Carter muttered.

His mom walked over to him regardless, resting her palm on his forehead. She put one hand on each side of his face next, pulling him down so she could press her lips to the top of his forehead as well. 

She pulled back with a grin, keeping her hands where they were. "No fever," she declared. "But you do look a little drained."

Carter shrugged. "Just tired."

His mom nodded. "Maybe you should go get some rest," she said. Carter nodded back. "Call me if you need anything."

He hummed agreeably in response.

He didn't get any rest, though. He didn't even bother taking off his clothes or pulling back his sheets. He spent the night turning from side to side, feeling the pull of an overly charged mind resist the weight of physical exhaustion.

He couldn't focus on any of his classes on Tuesday morning. At lunch, Seth looked at Carter stoically as he took his usual seat next to him. Neither of them spoke a word to each other, and Carter avoided eye contact the whole period. 

If anyone noticed tension, they didn't comment on it. The rest of the table fell into their regular noisy rhythm and Carter toned it mostly all off to background rumble.

He eyed Bobby Gonzalez and Scott Meyers as the first threw a piece of bread in the air for the other to catch with his open mouth, eliciting a round of boisterous cheering and applause from those surrounding them. Bobby noticed Carter's staring and smiled cockily.

"What're you staring at, Parrish?" He asked loudly.

Carter didn't answer, averting his eyes down at his tray.

"What's got you so fucking dark and gloomy today?" Bobby asked tactlessly.

"Nancy Mason on your mind?" Scott snickered.

Carter's head snapped up then and he took in the matching arrogant sneers on his teammates face.

"What did you just say?" He asked quietly and some of the volume of conversation around the table seemed to decrease.

"What was that?" Bobby shot back, unbothered.

Carter only shook his head, despite the horrible lump swelling in his throat, and stood up to leave.

He waited for the bell to ring inside Mr Thomas's classroom, accompanied only by the teacher and the green-haired kid, just like the day before. When class started, Johnny wasn't there again. When class ended, Carter was already ready to leave. 

He changed at light-speed, finishing getting ready just as Seth entered the locker room with Joey in tow. Carter noticed them both approach, before shutting his locker and taking off to the field.

Despite the lack of sleep and the hurricane wreaking havoc inside his head, Carter's body was able to take over on muscle memory alone during practice. As soon as Coach blew the final whistle, Carter stood back, letting his teammates scatter toward the locker room before he approached the coach.

He swallowed his pride and told himself he had nothing to be ashamed of, before clearing his throat. Coach Mason looked up from his clipboard.

"Is Johnny okay, sir? He wasn't in class today again."

Coach nodded. "Johnny stayed home today," he said. "He hit his head pretty hard yesterday. Diane and I thought it would be better to keep him under close observation for the day. At home."

"Oh. Good."

"Can I ask you something now, Parrish?"

Carter's blood ran cold and he felt a little light-headed. "Yes, sir," he rasped.

"Do you know who's doing this to him?"

It wasn't the question Carter expected. He didn't know what question he expected, in full honesty.

After a beat of silence, Carter shook his head. "I don't know anything for sure."

"But you think you might know."

Carter gulped. "I have my suspicions," he said slowly, surprising himself a little. "But I'm not sure. And it's a big accusation, sir."

Coach nodded emphatically. "I know, I know. I was just hoping he would've told you something."

Carter shook his head again. "He doesn't tell me anything. I tried asking, but—"

"Yeah, I know. Same with me," Coach cut him off. He eyed Carter warily, without dissolving the concerned parent front. "Listen, about you and Johnny—"

"We're friends," Carter blurted, before Coach could say anything more.

The man looked a bit taken aback. The concerned parent gave way to the neutral expression Carter had met the night before, after Coach caught him in Johnny's room.

"I see." It was flat and unrevealing.

"I was just... We're friends," Carter stuttered, looking down at the ground. "What you saw wasn't what it looked like, I—"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Parrish, because of the respect I have for you, which I would hate losing today," Coach interrupted tensely. Carter lifted his eyes slowly to meet the man's pale blue eyes. He didn't know how to read that expression "My son never hid who he is from me and I never had a problem with it. What I might have a problem with is when somebody makes him feel like he has to hide himself. Understood?"

Carter gulped.

"Yes, sir."

————

The remaining few weeks leading up to Christmas break seemed to speed by in a hazy flash of placid days.

The final week crept up on them without waiting for anyone, past end of semester tests and assignments which Carter slugged his way through. He woke every morning to open his text conversation with Johnny as usual, only to stare at the old message string before he closed it again. 

Seth stopped sitting next to Carter at lunch at some point, taking a seat on the other end of the table with the seniors instead. On the days he came to school, that is.

Mike drove Carter to school every day, with Frankie and Luca in the backseats. Mel's parents or Jenna would drive him home at the end of the day. Mel, Jenna and Joey tried to invite Carter to join them on social contexts, but he declined repeatedly. 

He spent a lot of his time off school lying in bed and replaying the most recent events of his life. Finding Seth and Bella together, Johnny's anxious look when Carter talked to him in his bedroom, the conversation with Coach.

He replayed every moment he could remember in which Johnny had been around his teammates in front of him too. And the more he did it, the surer he felt regarding his growing suspicions.

"I'm definitely failing Biology," Joey declared by Carter's side.

They were in the locker room, before practice, even though the season was over. Because there were no more games to play, they would be doing physical conditioning in the gym. It was still a mandatory period on their schedule, but Coach wasn't so obsessed with punctuality, which meant the players stopped caring about it at all.

"Yeah," Carter mumbled absently.

Joey laughed. "Thanks for the support," he retorted, swatting Carter's chest with his gym shirt.

Carter blinked at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

Joey laughed again. "You were not paying attention to anything I said," he concluded, shaking his head before he pulled his t-shirt off, messing up his sandy hair. "You're just like Jen."

Carter didn't respond to that. He pulled off his own shirt, while Joey squeezed into his tighter gym lycra. 

"I was saying I think I'm failing Biology. Mrs Dent hates me."

"Thought you hated Mrs Dent too."

"Well, yeah. But she has to grade me. Which is a really unfair power dynamic if you think about it," Joey argued. He looked at Carter with a smile. "And, again, you don't care."

Carter met his gaze. "No, I'm listening."

"You look off," Joey pointed out.

Carter shrugged. It was an awkward, inadequate response. But it was kind of unlike Joey to make that sort of remark. He was the kind of friend who spoke a mile an hour, about everything and nothing. Short, to-the-point, observational comments weren't exactly his thing.

"Did anything happen between you and Seth?"

Carter looked at Joey. None of his friends had said a single word about the environment between the two of them. Carter imagined they had to have noticed, as soon as Seth stopped shadowing Carter every second they were in school. But he didn't really expect anyone to observe on it.

"We're good."

Joey nodded. "I mean, don't tell me if you don't wanna, but don't lie to me," he said with a little laugh. "Seriously, I don't have to know. But you two should probably know that it's really obvious. Just in case you didn't already."

Carter nodded silently.

"Same thing for whatever's making you look so off lately," Joey added.

That was the last he said about it, before going back to his dramatic feud with Mrs Dent from Biology. He even allowed Carter to tune off through most of it, as they walked to the gym room for practice. After conditioning started though, there wasn't much talking. 

For the final exercise, Carter spotted Joey on the bench press. Bobby Gonzalez, Scott Meyers and Chaz Wheeler sat directly in front, on a long bench, flexing their arms in a repetitive motion while holding onto dumbbells. Carter watched them somberly, while Joey pushed through the last couple of reps.

When Coach told them they could move along to the locker room, Carter told Joey to go ahead. He followed Bobby, Scott and Chaz as they walked to store the dumbbells back on the rack. When they turned around, wiping the sweat off their necks and faces with their towels, Carter crossed his arms over his chest.

"Can I have a word?"

Bobby and Scott exchanged an unfazed look, whereas Chaz shifted nervously from foot to foot, eyes on his shoes.

"Sure," Bobby said.

Carter swept his eyes past the three of them. Scott and Bobby's dark eyes stared back at him. Only Chaz refused to meet his gaze.

"Have you been messing with Johnny Mason?"

Chaz's eyes lifted then, but his head was still slightly cast down. In contrast, Bobby's eyebrows arched and he crossed his muscular arms, bared by his tank top, over his chest.

"Everybody messes with Nancy Mason," Scott delivered nonchalantly. "Kid is weird as fuck."

"I'm serious," Carter stated, letting his tone convey just that.

"Geez, Parrish. Calm down," Chaz muttered, a little nervously. His eyes moved away to something over Carter's shoulder, as soon as Carter met his gaze.

"I asked you a very straight-forward question," Carter said, before he repeated evenly. "Have you been messing with Johnny Mason?"

"We've always had a little fun with the weirdo," Bobby answered flippantly. "Why are you getting your panties in a twist now?"

"Did you hurt him?"

Chaz pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest and lowering his head. It felt like a shielding reflex. Carter let his gaze burn into him for a couple of seconds. He seemed to be the only one of the three in which Carter's words were having a significant effect. 

Scott and Bobby's expression appeared to be growing annoyed. Not quite angry yet, just irritated.

"We barely touched him. It was just for fun," Scott said

"Why?" Bobby added almost immediately. "Did he go crying to his hero?"

Carter's eyebrows drew in, incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He scoffed. "He walks around with bruises on his face and God knows where else. Do you think that's fun?"

"For fuck's sake, Parrish. Relax."

That was the worst thing Bobby could have probably said to Carter in that moment.

"Coach knows somebody at school has been messing with his son," he told them. "Once he finds out, you'll definitely get suspended. Maybe even expelled."

"What?" Chaz's head whipped up fully for the first time.

"Relax," Bobby said, laying a beefy hand on Chaz's shoulder. At first glance, it could look like a steadying reassuring gesture, but Chaz didn't look steadied or reassured by it. "No one's getting expelled because there's no need for Coach to find out," Bobby cooed.

"Why wouldn't I tell him?" Carter shot back.

"What is this, Parrish?" Bobby asked, ignoring Carter's own question. "Did Coach's Nancy boy suck your dick in exchange for protection or something?"

"Bet the little faggot loved it too," Scott spat with a sneer. "He probably had a secret hard-on for you all along."

Those words made Carter stumble back a bit and his resolve wavered slightly. Hearing Scott's slur had felt like someone was trying to shove a pebble down Carter's throat. He no longer really felt like a captain confronting his teammates for something they'd done wrong, but like a kid cornered in the playground.

"Is that what this is?" He asked weakly. "You beat him because he's gay?"

"No," Chaz blurted instantly. He looked genuinely worried. Carter couldn't tell whether it was about what he had said or about fear of the consequences of this conversation.

"What if we do?" Scott said impatiently. "You haven't said a word for the past two years. Why do you suddenly care?"

Carter shook his head. "I didn't know until now," he answered.

"Because you didn't care," Bobby scoffed. "Do you think we're the only ones who give little Johnny a hard time? If you're only noticing it now, it's because you didn't care to see it before."

The pebble from before came back up and stuck painfully to Carter's throat. He wanted to counter that. He wanted to spit in Bobby's face that he had always cared. But like Johnny himself had said once, it was hard to know anything about someone you had never noticed before.

"Don't ever lay a hand on him again," Carter said instead.

Bobby snorted. "Or what?" That sounded like a challenge. One Carter really wanted to rise to.

Or Carter would tell Coach.

Or Carter would beat them up too.

Or... Carter would do something. Anything to keep them away from Johnny.

"Just don't," he said firmly. "Consider it a serious warning."

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