Carter's Big Break by Brent Crawford Page B

frustration. She pats my back and says, “Now, don’t beat yourself up, you made a mistake, but you’re lucky enough to have me pointing these things out for you. You’re learning the hard way, but you’re learning. Now, get over to her house and apologize, and then go home and help dad with that deck!”
    I raise my head and ask, “Why can’t you help him?”
    “Because I’m a girl and—”
    “Yes, I’d like a double standard with cheese, please. . . .”
    “And he didn’t ask me . . . He wants to bond with your dumb ass for some reason.”
    She heads back into the house, and I hear her bark at EJ, “Get off the table, idiot!” He’s spent so much time at our house that she feels obligated to straighten him out too. I think she reserves the more heartfelt tips for me, though. He just gets yelled at.
    I pass the liquor store on Merrian Lane and wave to C. B. as he’s loading the Ferrari with beer. He seems puzzled as to why I’m on the road, so I wave a kind of pre-apology for what my friends are about to do. He just gives me a nod.
    Drama camp has probably let out, and I’m closer to Abby’s house than school, so I bust a left onto her street. I wonder if she’s already forgiven me and is walking toward my house right now so that she can interrupt my dad’s construction project and ask me to go up to the bedroom so we can “talk” privately. And she’ll cry when I tell her how I confused her for a skank and how sorry I am and how I totally understand how she feels, and she’ll apologize for blowing it out of proportion and telling Nicky about it, and then she’ll slowly take off her clothes so that we can have make-up sex and there will be sunlight streaming into my windows so that I can clearly see her—
    “Whoooa!!!” I yell when I realize I’m riding through Abby’s yard and have just crushed a bush and row of flowers. I slam on the brakes and swerve to miss the mailbox before finally skidding to a stop. I look over my shoulder and lock eyes with Abby’s pissed-off mother . . . who was about to trim the bush I assassinated. I can see that she doesn’t appreciate the fact that I just saved her some work, and that she wouldn’t mind putting those clippers in her hand to use on me.
    “Sorry,” I yell, looking at the missing swatch of grass.
    She looks at my back tire for an explanation and asks, “Can I help you?”
    “Uhhhh, is Abby around?”
    She tells me that she’s still at drama camp and continues to glare at me. I nervously mutter, “S-S-She’s probably rehearsing for the audition, huh?”
    She explains, “No, Abby isn’t planning to audition anymore.”
    “What? Why?”
    “She doesn’t want to be in the same room with you.”
    I’m able to ignore her snotty tone because I’m so pissed about the fact that Abby might not do something that she really wants to because of me. This may be her only chance to audition for a movie, and she’ll regret it forever if she doesn’t, so I tell her mom very seriously, “You should make her.”
    She pointedly replies, “I don’t make Abby do anything, Carter.”
    I look away and think about defending myself with an explanation of the various techniques one might utilize when trying to elicit a blow job, and how I actually chose the method with the least amount of pressure, but I just let the guilt hang there until she sadly says, “You should be nicer to her.”
    I look down at the skid mark in her yard and think about what other damage I may have caused around this house in the past year. I don’t give any excuses. I just sigh, “I know,” and pedal off.
    I lean my bike against the brick wall of the drama department and walk inside. The usually deafening hallway is now a ghost town. The sound of Abby’s laughter floats out of the little theater and makes me smile. She may not be in such a bad mood after all. I’m making my way through the backstage curtains when a guy’s deep voice stops me in my tracks and sends a chill