Sara's in no danger when it comes to Mom.

Doesn't Bill know, even if it came down to that, I'd never let anything happen to Twig. If she drank with Sara home, I wouldn't let it slide.

"I worry about you too, Carter. It's not just Sara."

I nod because I know Bill cares in his own little way. He means well, but he still doesn't get my mom. I wonder if Dad did. If that's what made them so different. If that's what makes it so she can't get over him. That and the fact that he saved her from my asshole Grandfather. "I gotta go. Gonna take this in and then head to school."

Bill looks at me like he knows I'm trying to escape this conversation, but I go anyway. "See ya later."

With each step I walk away, my guilt shrinks. I'm sticking up for my family. It's the right thing to do. It has to be.

***

I struggle not to crush my coffee cup as I set it down. Instead, I flip the page in my English book like I'm supposed to, trying to figure out what it is I've been reading. It's a blur of names, places, and a whole lot of crap that feels like a waste of my time, but nothing jumps out at me. I don't even know what these people are supposed to be doing or what they're saying, so I shove the assignment in the book, and into my backpack it goes.

I already spent half the stupid morning at this coffee shop, trying to catch up, but I have crap to show for it. Math, I get. People actually use that stuff. But unless I plan on being the next Mrs. Z, which we can safely bet I don't, why does it matter if I can dissect every little thing in a book that I wouldn't even remember the name of if I didn't have to?

Half the morning has gone by and I'm no closer than I was last night. Fighting the urge to walk out, I pull some paper from my binder to start the two page essay I have to write. With the lure of practice calling to me, I have to get something done to pacify Mrs. Z.

Two and a half hours, two double shots, and a headache later, I shove the one and three quarter pages into my bag and bail. Lunch is almost over and skipping English would be a huge screw up on my part, no matter how much I want to. Remembering I need a note, I forge Mom's signature then head to the hell that is known as English.

Mel's standing by my locker when I get there, flicking her hair and giving me the evil eye. "About time you got here." Her arms are crossed in that pissed-off girl way.

"Sorry my mom will let me stay home once in a while and yours won't." It's times like these I feel bad for the lies because there really isn't a good reason not to tell her what I did. I'm not doing it to save Mom or to be there for Sara, but how lame is it to be failing English? To be that guy who pulls his hair out while trying to write a stupid paper? Not cool.

So I lean forward. Exit guilt, hello Melanie's lips. "Next time I'll bring you with me." Which we kind of need. She's right about the fact we won't see each other much once basketball and cheer start. I give her a quick kiss, which ends up being quicker than I planned because she pulls away.

"Yuck. Coffee breath."

My girl totally knows how to make a guy feel good about himself. Not.

"Take me instead. I don't care what your breath smells like." Travis steps up beside me, pretending to throw his arms around my neck, but stops at the last minute. We bump fists instead.

"I didn't mean... Whatever." Mel says and walks away.

Travis shakes his head. "Ever think life would be so much easier if we were single?"

I hold out my hand because his words deserve another bump. "For sure." It sucks, because things used to be so much easier with Mel. I needed that. Now, she spends half her pissed off at me, which means I spend half my time pissed off, too. But the alternative is a whole can of worms I flinch at the thought of opening.

"I think Mel and Trina get together every morning to decide if they want to be normal or psychotic. Today's definitely a psycho day. Thanks for leaving me alone with it."

I laugh as we round the corner into English. Mrs. Z's eyes are on me, burning a hole into my skull. I give her a quick nod, trying to convey that I got something done, though I'm not sure it's going to be enough for her.

Sliding my gaze away from her laser-beam glare, I spot Kira at her desk. Her braids are up in a knot-thing on her head, black and purple strands going in every different direction. Surprisingly, it doesn't look half bad. Weird, but not bad.

"I see you made it home safely yesterday," I say as I take my seat. "Didn't get accosted by any strangers?"

"None except for you." She's drawing little pictures on her notebook.

"Hey, you came up to me, not the other way around, remember?"

"Only because I was worried you were trying to kill yourself out there. I wanted to make sure you hadn't passed out. You know, in case I needed to call 911 or something."

Travis lingers at my side. He looks at me, then Kira, and at me again. "I'm feeling left out. Travis doesn't like to feel left out."

Kira laughs, making my gut tighten.

"I went to the court for a while yesterday and saw her." Thankfully, my excuse for why I was hanging around Kira just so happens to be the truth. Two points for Carter. Wait, why do I need an excuse?

"That's where you were? I was covering for you while Trina texted every five minutes because Mel kept texting her. I got to spend my whole afternoon hearing about how big a jerk you are and you got to play ball? Not cool."

"I'm a jerk?"

"Oh yeah. What kind of boyfriend doesn't text back? Poor Mel. She deserves so much better. Travis, if you ever treat me like that!"

I groan. "Sorry."

"Wow... What a terrible boyfriend you are." Kira smiles, so I think she's joking. I hope. But I'm starting to feel bad because we're bordering on talking crap about my girlfriend.

"I apologized to her; it was my fault. I did kind of bail on her."

The bell saves me from explaining further, and we all slide into our seats. As soon as Mrs. Z starts talking I zone out, thinking about Mom, Bill, Sara, Mel, basketball, English. My thoughts can't choose which one to concentrate on, until I make it pick Mel because she's the easiest. Things used to feel so easy with her, but the longer we go, the harder it gets. I need that easiness back which means I have to stop pulling stunts like I did yesterday. Though I'm still kind of lost on why it's such a huge deal to play ball without calling her, but whatever. I'll make it up to her. I'll do something with her after practice today.

Mrs. Z puts on a video about the relevance of classic British literature in current times, which gives me more time to think about things that aren't English. Before I know it, the bell rings and I’m sneaking my not-quite-two-page report onto her desk, and slipping out of class. The ache in my head tells me I wasn't as sneaky as I thought and laser eyes are x-raying my skull again, but at least I make it out without having to talk to her.

Kira sits across the room from me in art. We don't have assigned seats, so for some reason it annoys me a little. Not that I have a reason to be annoyed, but I am. Once the final bell rings, I forget all about her and everything else in my life as I head to the locker room. Might make me sound like a nutcase, but it's alive with electricity. Every guy on the team is excited for the season to start, making claims on which titles we'll get and how the whole conference will be owned by us.

"Do you even realize how much ass we're going to kick this year?" Jackson asks Travis and me.