- 6 -
Rings
In Art, Mary sat at the same table with Sienna and David.
"I saw Carter following you in the hall," Sienna said. "Did he talk to you?"
"A little," Mary said.
"What did he say?" Sienna asked.
David rolled his eyes. "C'mon, babe. Give her a break. She just got back. Besides, who cares about what Carter Maxwell does or doesn't do?"
"But this is big!" Sienna said. "She's got to be the first one he's really talked to. Did he say how he got out of the hospital? Or how come his parents made him go back to school so fast?"
Mary suddenly recalled why she didn't consider Sienna a friend. She was an unimaginable gossip. But those were actually good questions, even though Mary didn't have the answers. Thankfully, the bell rang, and Mr. Edwards started class before Sienna could prod more.
Even though Art was Mary's favorite class, she was preoccupied with Carter. How was she going to thank him? Just saying "Thank you" seemed weak. Borderline ingratitude. "Thank you for saving my life. I'm eternally grateful. I pledge to thee my firstborn child" seemed excessive. Maybe she could get him a gift? That would also be an understatement, but it would be better than just "Thank you." But what would she get him? She didn't know what he liked.
With the other half of her brain, Mary started sketches for a new painting. Since she couldn't do the mobile, she decided to make a space painting instead, so she had poked around the interwebs on Sunday and found a cool picture of Saturn and its rings. She drafted several different angles to see which one she liked best.
Mary worked on her sketches through lunch. She didn't normally eat in the cafeteria, and Mr. Edwards didn't mind her bringing her sandwich into the Art room. She was the only one who did that, after all. She also wanted to avoid people, especially today if more questions came up that she wasn't prepared to answer. Maybe that's why Carter had avoided the cafeteria when he returned last week.
The lead in her mechanical pencil suddenly broke. Mary gently blew it away and examined her sketch. It wasn't looking like she imagined. She'd have to see the picture again and, for that, she needed to go to the computer lab. She gathered her things and tossed her sandwich wrapper into the trashcan. When she stepped out of the classroom, she jumped and nearly dropped her stuff.
"Gah!" she cried.
Carter was in the hall. "Hello, Mary. I am sorry. I frightened you."
Duh, Captain Obvious. And why was he talking like that? He didn't use contractions. Maybe another side effect from the accident.
"No. It's all right," she said. "Have you been standing out here all this time?"
He cocked his head to the side and repeated, "All this time?"
"I mean, how long have you been here? Outside this room?" she asked.
"Class was dismissed fourteen minutes ago," he said.
"So that's how long you've been here?" she asked. "For fourteen minutes?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I was waiting for you."
Mary wrinkled her brow. "Um okay. Listen, there's something I've been wanting to say to you."
His face lit up. "There is?"
"Yeah" she said. "I know it's kinda late, but…thank you. For saving me. That was very brave." Sweet mother of pearl! That was the sorriest "thank you" in the history of the universe.
Carter smiled. "You are welcome."
"Really?" she asked. "You're not, like, mad at me?"
"Should I be?"
That was actually a good question. "I don't know," she said. "I mean, that whole bus thing was my fault. And you are—"
"—fine," he said. "I appreciate your gratitude. But you owe me nothing."
Mary stared at him. He had just answered the most important question that she hadn't thought to ask. "I don't?"
He shook his head. Like his lunge-walk, he did it in a deliberate way. She thought his head would fly off for a moment.
Mary didn't know what to say to that. Except, "Thank you." And she really meant it.
"You are welcome. Again," he said.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Mary started picking at a stray thread on the seam of her bag. "Um, so, any news on your car?" she asked.
"News?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. Is it going to be fixed?"
"Oh. No. My…dad…said it was totaled." The way he said "dad" just then seemed like it was a foreign word to him.
"Your parents are back in town?" Mary asked. At the hospital, Mr. Romero had said they were out of the country.
Carter nodded. Again, deliberately. "They came when they heard what happened."
Mary was glad for that. She could only imagine what a wreck Mom would have been if she were on the other side of the world and something had happened to Mary. Then, she realized what he had said, and she felt even more miserable. Cars weren't cheap, and she knew that his red sportster was a big loss. "I'm so sorry."
"For what?" he asked.
"Your car," she said.
"It was just a car."
Did he say it was just a car? Sophomore year, Carter went ballistic when Katie Peterson accidentally nicked his back bumper with her Jeep. Mary normally ignored other people's drama, but Carter wouldn't shut up about it for days, and he only became remotely human again when it was fixed. But now that his precious ride was beyond repair, he didn't seem to care at all.
He looked at the sketchbook in her hands. "What is that?"
"Oh," she said, coming back to the present. "Just some sketches. I was going to the computer lab to look something up."
"I see," he said. "May I accompany you?"
"Huh?" she asked.
"To the computer lab," he said. "If you do not mind."
She did, actually. But she didn't want to be ungrateful anymore, so she said, "Sure. I don't mind."
He didn't speak as they walked. Or, she walked and he lunged.
Mary cleared her throat lightly. "So, Carter."
"Yes?"
"You got back to school kinda quick. Doesn't that seem a little rushed?"
"I wanted to come," he said. "Back. I chose to come back."
"Really?"
"My…dad…spoke with a specialist," he said. "He suggested to not change my routines. That it may help with my recov—oof!" One of Carter's lunges turned into a trip, and he fell forward.
"Carter!" Mary grabbed his arm to help him up. He felt pretty warm through his black sweater. "Are you all right?"
"I am, thank you," he said as he stood up again. "I am learning how to walk and talk at the same time. Again."
"I see," Mary said. "Well, take it easy. We don't have to walk fast. Are you sure its okay for you to be at school?"
"Yes."
She waited for him to explain more, but he didn't. They were quiet for a bit, since Mary didn't want him to trip and fall again. But the silence was also starting to make things more awkward, so she asked, "So, um, how's Laci doing?"
"Who?"
"Your girlfriend," she said.
"Oh." He looked as if he was trying to remember who she was. Like when he said "dad" earlier. "She is well."
"Have you been out since you left the hospital?" she asked.
He cocked his head to the side. "Out?"
"Yeah. You know. Out on a date?" she asked.
"Oh," he said again. "A date. No. I have not been out on a date."
"I see," she said.
"And you?" he asked. "Have you been out on a date?"
"Huh?"
"Have you been out on a date?" he repeated.
"Oh, no. I heard you the first time." What an odd question, she thought. "I don't date. I don't have a boyfriend."
"A boyfriend," he pondered aloud. "Like Laci is my…girlfriend."
This was getting weirder.
"Why do you not have a boyfriend?" he asked
"I just don't, you know?" she said. "Some people date, and I don't."
"What do you do?" he asked.
"Like in my free time?" she asked. "I don't know. I paint, I guess."
"Is painting the same as dating?" he asked.
What the heck? Mary looked to see if he was messing with her. But he seemed like he genuinely didn't know the difference between the two.
"No. But I prefer it," she said.
"Why?"
"I just do."
"But why?"
She blurted out, "Because paints and brushes don't have expectations of you."
He was silent.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said it like that."
"It is all right."
They were both quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I wanna ask you something now."
"Okay."
"Why are you talking to me?"
"Is there a reason I should not?"
This answering her questions with more questions thing was starting to get on her nerves. "Several, as a matter of fact," she said.
"Like what?" he asked.
"Well," she said sarcastically, "you've never spoken to me other than to insult me."
He looked at her, surprised. "I have insulted you?"
Apparently, he forgot about the time he called her a "damn chink." During freshman year once, they were in the lunch line together and she accidentally spilled apple juice on his Jordans. He should've known better anyway, that wearing non-school shoes might mean they would get messed up or confiscated by a teacher. Anyway, he hadn't even enough sense to use the correct derogatory for her. After that, she started bringing lunch from home and eating in the Art room.
But she answered, "You just haven't talked to me much before."
He looked like he was trying to remember something. At last, he said, "I apologize that I insulted you. There is no excuse for that. Will you forgive me?"
Mary stared at him. She wasn't expecting an apology, and she didn't really know how to respond.
"You do not have to answer if you do not want to," he said.
Good, she thought. Then, she stopped walking.
He stopped lunging. "Is there something wrong?"
"Not really," she said. "But people say you've been different since you came back. I can see what they mean."
His half-smile disappeared. "You can?"
She nodded. "You're polite. It's weird."
"Polite is weird?"
She shook her head. "No, no. It's not. It's just weird for you. You always seemed kinda rude before."
"Oh," he said. "Would you prefer that I were rude?"
"No!" she said quickly. "That's not what I meant. Polite is good. I like polite."
He smiled again. "I like polite, too."
Glad that's established, she thought. They finally arrived at the computer lab, and Mary found the picture she wanted on NASA's website. When Carter asked what she was doing, she told him about her plans for a Saturn painting.
"You like the celestial bodies?" he asked.
"The what?"
"The celestial bodies," he repeated. "Things in space. Like stars, moons, and planets."
"Oh, yeah," she said. "That's pretty much all I paint when I'm not working on something for school."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I think they're pretty. I like looking at the sky. Especially at night."
"The Earth is more interesting to look at," he said.
"Why do you say that?" she asked.
"It is where all the life is," he said.
Mary waited for him to explain further, but he didn't. Instead, he asked, "May I see your painting when you have finished it?"
She hesitated. Mary hardly showed anyone her unfinished work. She hardly showed her finished work, for that matter. But she still felt like she owed him despite him saying that she didn't. "Okay," she said. "It'll be a few days though."
The bell rang, marking the end of the lunch period.
Carter stood. "I will look forward to it."
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