Heart and Soul - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

"Oh, my God," Carter repeated, eyes wide. "Are you okay?" He asked, letting go of the door and sliding his phone into his jeans' pocket. He dropped to his knees, next to the boy spread out on the floor.
"I'm fine," the kid spat dryly.
Carter bit his lip, overcome with guilt. "Shit, I'm really sorry. I should've been looking—Shit. Let me see, is that blood?"
Carter tried reaching for the guy's face, but he jerked away from his touch. Carter pulled away, holding his hand at a respectful distance, as the boy turned his head to face him. There was a bleeding cut on the left side of his forehead, near the hairline, and his lip was busted.
Brown eyes widened as the kid got a look at Carter's face. "Shit, you're—", he cut himself off, wincing. His fingers moved to his torn lip.
"You should go to the nurse," Carter blurted. The fresh cut and the swollen lip were making him queasy. Carter had never been comfortable with the sight of blood. He had seen his fair share of nasty bruises in football, but blood just made his stomach twist and turn.
"I told you I'm fine," the guy snapped impatiently, sitting up straighter. "This wasn't you." He pointed dismissively at his own face.
Carter raised both eyebrows. "You expect me to believe your face was already bleeding, before I assaulted you with a door?"
To Carter's surprise, the guy snorted a laugh and looked at him with a little smirk. "Would you believe it if I said yes?"
Carter laughed a little too. "No."
The other boy bit his lip, making the purplish injury bleed a little as well. Carter's eyes zeroed in on the bright red blood... on pink, swollen lips.
"Let me take you to the nurse," he said, meeting the boy's eyes again.
"I said I'm fine."
"Then let's just check."
"Will you manhandle me if I refuse?" The kid asked, in a scornful tone.
Carter's lips parted, a bit taken aback. "I—Sure. If I have to." He gave the boy a meaningful look to let him know he wasn't backing down.
Carter pulled up onto his feet, extending one hand downward. The kid rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face as he took Carter's hand, accepting his help to stand.
The nurse's office was empty when they got there, except for the plump dark-haired woman who worked there. Carter was surprised to note the familiarity in her voice as she received them.
"Johnny. Did you fall down the stairs again?" She asked with a skeptical look of disapproval.
Johnny, the dark-eyed boy with darker hair, smiled humorlessly. "This time, it was a door," he answered matter-of-factly. "Ran straight into it."
The nurse shook her head with a chastising tsk, completely disregarding Carter's less familiar presence. She pushed Johnny down on a chair, non-too-gently, to take a look at the cut on his forehead. He winced at her touch.
"A door, huh?" The nurse – Carter could not remember her name, or even whether he'd ever learned it – mused. She reached for an old clam-shell Nokia model in her coat's pocket.
"Do you have to tell my father?" Johnny asked as he saw her thumbs pressing the keys on her phone. She merely shot him a hard, knowing look before stepping outside.
A strange silence settled in the room then. The boy leaned back on his chair, lazily, with the ease of someone who was not a stranger to this office. Carter simply stood in the middle of the room, hands in his jeans pockets, feeling a thread of awkwardness slither through his body. The silence stretched across several minutes – or so it felt.
"I'm Carter, by the way," he offered tentatively.
The boy raised both eyebrows and the action looked painful to Carter, because of the bloody gash.
"I know."
Just as Carter was about to stupidly ask how, the door opened. But it wasn't the nurse who came in first. Carter frowned in confusion, as Coach Mason stomped right in, with his whistle hanging from his neck and a determined look on his face.
"Dad."
Oh, shit.
"What happened to you, this time?" Coach demanded. He didn't even seem to notice Carter.
Johnny sat up a little bit. "It was an accident with a door."
Carter shifted uncomfortably. Had he seriously accidentally assaulted Coach Mason's son? The man's head turned slowly to where Carter was standing, for a fleeting glance, then did a double take. His eyebrows practically knitted together.
"Parrish? Why are you here?"
"Uhm, it was my fault, sir." Carter pursed his lips nervously, as Coach's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I was texting and walking. Didn't see him standing there, so I opened the door in his face. Uhm... literally."
The coach looked between him and Johnny. "Is this true?"
Johnny nodded with a shrug. It was strange seeing someone act so carelessly around Coach Mason. Usually, even the cockiest of football players would lower their eyes around the man.
Coach granted each of them one final glance. He appeared to deem their story plausible, after one longer look at Carter. His stance eased slightly.
"Don't text while walking, Parrish." He pointed a warning finger at him.
"Yes, sir."
Coach lowered his hand, giving way to the more relaxed front he usually reserved for private post-practice conversations. "Did you see Queens today? I heard from some of his teachers that he wasn't in his morning classes."
"Oh, uhm... I think he had a family emergency," Carter said. It probably wasn't a lie.
"Will he be here for practice?"
"I can ask, sir."
"Do that. I need to run some new plays by my co-captains. Need both of you for that." Coach turned to his son, after Carter's answering nod. "And you," he pointed, "might wanna ask for a helmet on Christmas."
Johnny smirked, cocking his head coyly. "Does that mean no to the drone?"
Coach Mason scoffed gruffly. "Why ask for something that you'll dismantle anyway? I could buy you a box of electronic waste from the start. That'd be cheaper."
Johnny snorted and Coach Mason made it to the door, as the bell sounded outside. He held it open, looking at Carter.
"You coming, Parrish?"
Carter hesitated.
"Don't you have classes?" Coach raised his eyebrows.
Carter looked between father and son. The nurse, who had been gathering gauze and alcohol, glanced over her shoulder at him. "I should be done with him in a second. He'll be right behind you."
And that was that.
Carter followed Coach Mason out, walking in the opposite direction once they left. He took out his phone on the way to class, re-reading the two sentences he had on the text box. He added one more and pressed SEND.
Seth was just as responsive to the text as he had been to the calls.
Turned out he was coming to practice, although he only showed up halfway through, without his gear. Carter watched him talk to Coach Mason from the field, waiting to see if the man would yell or get mad. Instead, Coach just nodded and gestured to the bleachers, where Seth took a seat.
When they sat in Seth's car, over an hour later, Carter held on asking if his best friend was okay. They drove in silence, until Seth turned off the radio a couple of turns before Carter's street.
"Can I crash at yours tonight?" He asked.
Carter met his stoic gaze. "Of course, I'll text my mom."
Seth pulled over into the Santoro driveway and they both slid out of the car in silence. Carter got his answer from his mom as they stepped on the porch.
"So," Seth smirked at Carter as they went inside. "This is the beasts' layer?"
Carter laughed, opening the front door. Seth followed him to the kitchen, but Tony wasn't there, so Carter assumed it was his stepfather's turn to work the dinner shift at his family-owned restaurant. He beckoned Seth to follow him to his bedroom, where they dumped their stuff. From an open breach in the window, they heard the sound of voices and the bouncing of a basketball.
The uproar increased volume as they made their way downstairs, to the door in the kitchen that lead to the back yard. Luca's voice could be clearly heard, even before Carter opened the door.
"And Frank passes to Mike Butterhands – Mikey loses the ball, honoring his title – Santoro recovers the ball – she ignores her teammate shamelessly and dribbles to the mid-field line – she shoots for a three-pointer – it hits the rim, and—Will it bounce off? In! It goes in! The audience goes wild – whoah!"
Carter arrived in time to see Bella perform some sort of victory dance in front of a cheering blonde girl. Carter recognized the girl and the dark-haired boy sprawled on her legs with his nose in a book. They were with Bella in the cafeteria, and they had also been at the wedding as family friends.
"We love you, Bee!" The girl cheered.
"This is so fucking unfair!" Frankie whined. "Mike's the worst ball player the world ever produced."
"Next time, you should choose your teammates more wisely," Luca advised knowingly. He high-fived Bella, taking her in a side hug.
"I never choose, though. You two always team up and leave me with Mike, the Muppet!"
Mike only arched an eyebrow at that, before noticing Carter and Seth standing to the side. He offered them a friendly smile. Like his siblings, his hair was damp with sweat and his face red with heat. He lifted the hem of his shirt to fan himself with it, revealing in the process the kind of toned torso one would expect from someone who was, in fact, athletically well-versed.
"Tell you what, now that Carter's here, he can take my spot," Mike said, looking back at the others.
Four grins turned to where Carter stood, but only one fell into a frown at the sight.
"C-man! Awesome," Frankie cheered, as Mike walked past them and disappeared into the house.
"You guys know Seth?" Carter asked, pointing at his best friend beside him.
The rumble of laughter that ensued was answer enough. Seth had been at the wedding, so they would have seen him there if never before.
Despite that, Seth's eyes lit with a special recognition as he looked at Frankie. "You played JV football last year, didn't you? Wide receiver," he recalled. Frankie's lips stretched into a proud smile. Seth nodded approvingly. "You were good. Could easily replace Joey's backup in the team this year. Why did you stop playing?"
"I also failed half my classes, last year," Frankie answered.
Seth's gaze glinted in silent amusement. "You should try out next year. If you get your school stuff sorted, meanwhile."
"Definitely planning to," Frankie said. "By the way, the dork with the girlfriend way out of his league back there is Roy, and the bomb is Lauren." He pointed brazenly.
The blonde girl smiled and the pale boy on her legs lifted his head from the book abruptly, like a cat that was woken with a start. Lauren, 'the bomb', ran her hand through his short hair soothingly, also not unlike what one would do to calm a startled cat.
"If Carter's playing, I call for team re-arrangement," Luca announced. "I want Frankie."
"Fuck no," Bella snapped, taking the basketball from him. "He's not playing." The ball shot out from her hands in a bounce pass aiming for Seth's chest. He caught it between his hands. Bella smiled slyly. "Can you shoot, pretty boy?"
"It's Seth," he corrected. He adjusted the basketball in his hands, before aiming for the basket. It hit the backboard and swooshed in.
Frankie whistled and Luca hooted. Bella looked remarkably unimpressed, though.
"I might wanna call for another team re-arrangement."
"Fuck off, Luca."
Carter watched Seth and Bella mercilessly beat Frankie and Luca. Repeatedly. When they decided to play best of five, Carter tentatively moved to the other side of the back yard, where Bella's friends were sitting by the garden swing. Lauren smiled at him encouragingly as he sat next to them. Roy barely seemed to notice him, though, still nose-deep in his book.
After Seth and Bella won their fourth game – it had moved on to best of seven, at that point – Tony's car pulled into the garage through the back gate. Charlie came int he backseat, along with piles of pizza boxes from his restaurant.
Mike, showered and changed, came down at that point to help his father set order. 'Order' in the Santoro style, that is. Bella, Frankie and Luca were dispatched to go take a shower. Seth, who was only slightly flushed, recovered his leather jacket from Carter, who had been holding on to it during the basketball matches.
Bella's friends helped Mike set the table, while Carter and Seth helped Tony unload the pizzas from his car. Charlie pretended to help too. When everything was done, with a certain unavoidable degree of chaos in the midst, Tony announced he had to go back to the restaurant, but Carter's mom should be home soon. He looked straight at Frankie and Luca as he reminded them all to save her some food.
Before Tony could leave, Carter called his attention. "Uhm, I already talked to my mom. But I wanted to ask if it's okay for Seth to crash tonight?"
Tony looked surprised. "Did your mother say it was okay?" He asked. Carter nodded. Tony shrugged. "Then, sure."
"If pretty boy can stay on a fucking school night, so can Roy and Lauren," Bella chimed in.
Tony snorted. "If their parents agree. I have to work." He moved to the door. "Swear Jar, by the way."
Bella rolled her eyes, but Luca had already slid the fat cookie glass jar, half filled in dollar bills, in front of her.
"If I gotta put a dollar for the Swear Jar, Frankie needs to put one in the Stupidity Jar," she retorted, pushing one dollar in.
"Stupidity Jar?" Seth echoed, like he wasn't sure he should take that as a joke. In a normal household, he definitely should. No such thing as a Stupidity Jar. Even the idea of a Swear Jar, as an educational method, sounded somewhat ludicrous. Or, so Carter thought when he first moved in with this less than orthodox family.
"It's like a swear jar for stupid comments," Carter parroted the explanation Mike had given him on his first week. Apparently, Frankie put in for the Stupidity Jar as much as Bella pitched in for the Swear Jar. Carter was yet to find out what the money was used for.
"What did I say?" Frankie demanded, sounding outraged.
"Today you asked me if butterflies made butter like bees make honey, Frank," Luca shared.
Frankie scoffed. "Bella wasn't there, though!"
"No, but I knew there had to be some shit, if I just brought it up." She smiled sweetly.
"Swear Jar," Mike and Charlie called at the same time.
Bella rolled her eyes.
"I'll pardon your debt if you pardon mine," Frankie offered.
"You can't make that deal. You two aren't the authority here," Mike countered.
"Neither are you, Butterhands," Bella spat.
"I'm taking the egg and sausage pizza all to myself just for that," Mike said.
Bella's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."
"Hands off the tuna," Luca called.
"Nobody likes tuna on pizza," Frankie shot back.
"I do," Bella's friend, Lauren, chimed in.
"Me too," Bella said.
"You can't have egg and sausage and tuna, Bella. You'll get fat and the family will starve," Frankie chided mockingly.
"I already said the egg and sausage one is mine."
"While you discuss this, I'll just take the pepperoni."
"Don't you dare!"
"Hey, come back!"
"Don't lick the pizza, Luca! It won't work and it's gross."
"You're disgusting!"
"Ew, I can't believe you just ate the slice he licked."
"Fuck off."
"Swear Jar!"
Amidst the chaos, Carter heard Seth's low chuckle, next to him. He took in the small glimmer of amusement in his best friend's pale green eyes. It looked like a significant change from the glum, dull glow they held when they left school earlier that day. And, for the first time, despite the headache creeping in, Carter didn't mind the distracting chaos of his full, loud new house.