Page 9

Chapter 9

The Carter Summer Ball

Three Years Earlier

Parker

“The ice sculpture has arrived”, I announce, from my vantage point overlooking Brandon’s driveway.

Driveway is a bit of an understatement, since it’s about a mile long, and filled with vans of caterers and decorators, all frantically preparing for the party formerly known as Brandon’s Graduation. “Carter, you might have a problem. What animal is it supposed to be?”

“A lion!” Brandon pokes his hand round the doorway, wet hair leaving droplets on bare shoulders. I’m getting ready at his place because Brandon owns tuxedos, plural, so I’m borrowing one. Plus it’s far more entertaining to mess with him in person. “Why, what does it look like?”

“Kind of like a woolly mammoth”, I crank my head 90 degrees. “Sunbathing”.

“A mammoth ?” Brandon joins me, pulling a crisp white towel around his waist. Everything in the Carter household is crisp and white. “It’s meant to be a lion. I was there when my mom ordered it. She specified a majestic one. She even sent them a copy of our family crest”.

“Remind me to mock you for that later”, I lean casually against his shoulder. “Who’d win in roar-off, Aslan or Mufasa?”

“Parker, this is serious”. Brandon pauses, “Mufasa, obviously. Pre-stampede”. He knocks the game controller out of my hand. “Finish getting ready. Millie’s gonna be here soon”.

I’m about to retaliate when I spot Brandon’s mother on the driveway. For a moment, I think she’s there to cuss out the caterers, but instead she’s deep in conversation with a suited guy I vaguely recognise.

He brushes the hair from her shoulder, and she catches his hand, smiling. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing”. I snap his blinds closed. I’m pretty much dressed, apart from the tie. “And don’t worry about Millie. She might not be coming. We had a fight this morning”.

“What about this time?”

“College. She thinks I’m not grasping the promise of opportunity with boundless enthusiasm”. Brandon raises his eyebrows. “It’s a quote from her valedictorian speech”.

“In your defence”, Brandon’s mouth twitches upwards, “You’re not really a boundless enthusiasm kinda guy. Have you tried grasping it with brooding indifference?”

“Funny. I gotta admit, most of her speech went over my head”.

“These things tend to be pretty high level”.

“So you understood it? The boundless enthusiasm part?”

“Sure”. I wait for him to elaborate. “I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

I throw a pillow at him. “You don’t have a clue either!”

“Okay, well things might have got a little hazy during that particular part of her speech”. Brandon grins. “Which you have to admit, went on a bit”.

“Not that you’re bitter”. I duck as the pillow comes hurtling back in my direction.

Brandon’s had his sights set on valedictorian since I met him. First I get Millie, then Millie gets the coveted valedictorian spot. In Brandon’s perfect world, this probably counts as a losing streak. “She also thinks I don’t pay her enough compliments”.

“I’d have a hard time complimenting that speech too”, he grins. I shoot him a look and he buttons it. For about a microsecond. “So, do you?”

“Do I, what?”

“Pay the girl enough compliments?”

“I don’t know”. I pull up my collar, grunting in frustration as the knot to my tie unravels. Again. Other guys had Dads to teach them this stuff. “What’s enough when it comes to compliments?”

“Enough to make her feel special”, Brandon fastens his belt around his black tuxedo pants, and takes his shirt off its hanger, “Not so many that they lose all meaning”.

I frown, thinking back. “I told her that I liked her car”.

Brandon stops. “What?”

“I do. I like the way it runs. Zero to sixty in less than - fuck sakes!” I snap as my tie comes apart limply in my hands. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

“Give it here”, Brandon takes it from me and begins straightening it out. He leans in, eyes narrowed in concentration. I’m very aware of just how close his face is to mine. “Patience is key. Oh, sorry Di Rossi. ‘Patience’ is a quality that some people possess, it’s basically when you don’t approach every situation like a bull in a—”

“Hilarious”. I nod towards the weight bench in the corner, which is a new feature since the last time I was here. “Those aren’t supposed to be ornamental, you know. You actually have to lift some weight in order to see results”. I suppress a grin. “Uh, Carter. Are you tensing right now?”

“No”, he says, slightly red in the face.

“You’re not as skinny as you were. You’re leaner”. His cologne suits him. I’ve never noticed it before.

His eyes catch mine. “Do I look good?”

“Different”.

“I’m starting to see Millie’s point”. He steps back to admire his handiwork. “There, all set”.

I take in my reflection, swallowing down the familiar pang in my chest. I wish my dad were here to see this . “Thanks. Now, as for that patience dig”, I advance on him, and he twists away, sensing an attack.

Two seconds later, I tackle him, forcing him onto the floor. He’s definitely getting buffer, but he’s no wrestler. “Tap”, I instruct, after submitting him easily. He squirms, but he’s laughing too hard to put up much of a fight.

Suddenly I catch sight of a shadow in Brandon’s mirror. It’s the Senator, watching us from across the landing. I shiver. Brandon’s dad has never liked me. He pauses just long enough for me to see him, before he turns and stalks down the stairs.

“I’m…tapping…” Brandon grunts, his face bright red. I release him hurriedly, and he scrambles back to his feet, sucking air. “Ow”, he says pointedly, holding his jaw.

“Keep going with those weights. We’ll have a rematch in a few weeks”. I slip on my borrowed shoes. After I finish tying the laces, I feel the weight of his gaze across my back. My eyes find his in the mirror. “What?”

“That hurt!” he shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement. “You never apologise, do you?”

The image of my father evaporates before my eyes, leaving me in a world that took everything I loved away. It’s not me who owes the apology. It never will be. “No, I don’t”.