Heart and Soul - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

When Carter and Luca left the house together, teeth brushed and reeking cologne in Luca's case, Seth's BMW was parked right out front. The car was unlocked, though Seth didn't seem to notice them until they were inside. He set his phone down, while Carter and Luca fastened their seat belts, and roared the ignition to life.
Chaz Wheeler, their party host, lived in a large, three-story, ivory mansion with a broad portion of land surrounding it, which included a faux-stone cabin-turned-gameroom, a kidney shaped pool that went six feet deep and a small orchard.
The guy was rich.
Or, rather, his parents were. And they also went out of town a lot, to a luxury condo they had in Palm Beach. Because, sometimes, they needed a weekend's rest from their luxury mansion at home, in Miami – Carter imagined.
This year, though, for the first time, they hadn't taken Chaz's little brother with them. And, for the first time since Chaz was an underclassman himself, there were as many freshmen and sophomores in the party as upperclassmen. The place was absolutely packed. Some people definitely didn't even go to their school.
The crowd didn't seem to intimidate Carter's stepbrother, though. Luca Santoro was off with Brad Wheeler and other JV kids before Carter really had time to tell him to be good – or whatever he was supposed to say.
It was Scott Myers, their lean, darkly-tanned center – a senior – who spotted Carter and Seth first. Scott yelled out their names, draping one heavy arm around each of them to drag them around the house to the back, where the party was. Chaz never actually let people inside, because then he would have to clean it before his parents got home. And his parties could get messy, to say the least.
Scott was completely naked from the waste up, his Calvin Klein briefs peaking out from the waistline of his grey shorts. Judging by his breath and the red hue around his eyes, Carter imagined he was also already wasted.
Scott told them about a couple of senior girls that had left the bikinis at home and decided to simply go for a swim in just their underwear. The look Scott gave them made Carter think he should feel more excited to see that than he actually did. The enthusiasm in Scott's tone only grew as he hauled them along to the pool, where he promised there would be beer kegs.
Bobby Gonzalez, their hulking, loud offensive tackle, greeted Carter and Seth with characteristic brashness. He torso was also bared. His shirt was a soggy mass, loosely hanging around his neck like a limp, under-inflated neck pillow.
Chaz Wheeler sat on a long, cushioned pool chair, with a big grin on his face and a pink flush on his cheeks. Jenna Torres was half-leaning into him, wearing waist-high skin-clad black shorts and a green bikini top. Joey Ashley was in the pool, fully clothed, two different bottles in each hand.
Drinking and swimming. What could possibly go wrong?
Something recent and upbeat thundered from monstrous, expensive speakers spread across the property. Carter didn't know the song, though. Or maybe he did, but it was too loud to tell.
The music made it hard to talk to people, but Carter still tried. He indulged two of his second string teammates with light, football-themed conversation before Chaz Wheeler came to fill his hands with a full red solo cup each, dragging him away and forcing him to down everything in front of him. Carter didn't like the wobbly feeling that came afterwards, so he sat next to Jenna on the pool chair.
Jenna told him Melanie had bailed on the party without excuse and Carter talked to her for a while, passing every glass, shot or beer can anyone put in his hands onto hers. She was glad to rid him of his many burdens.
At some point, Seth had disappeared and Joey had come out of the water to be held up over a keg, feet up and mouth on a hose. People cheered and whooped, until Joey coughed and beer spurted all over his face before they put him down. Someone tried to pull Carter in next, but he slithered away. Thankfully, Chaz Wheeler volunteered himself as a willing tribute, providing the perfect opportunity for Carter to sneak away while everyone cheered their party host.
His first time attempting a keg stand, in freshmen year, was also at the first of Chaz's parties Carter had attended. He had ended up running off to a corner where he could hurl his guts out and let Seth take him home after he was done with the hurling. It wasn't one of his happiest or proudest memories.
Most of the underclassmen that night were around the gameroom cabin, where yet more bulky speakers blasted music. Carter spotted Luca with Brad Wheeler and a bunch of other kids in a cluster inside, around the game set – laughing, and playing, and drinking. Luca didn't even see him for the entirety of the five minutes Carter stood there watching, fully aware of the few underclassmen watching him.
Carter had planned to grab Luca, text Seth – wherever he might have gone off to – and go for a swift exit. But looking at his stepbrother, he just didn't have the courage to go over and tell him they had to go. Despite all the hurling and inexperienced, reckless mistakes he had made, Carter still remembered freshmen year as his best party year. It was, after all, the one where he was allowed to be inexperienced, and reckless, and make mistakes. The first year of high school was the one when the parties had still felt fresh, new, and exciting.
He crossed the cabin, leaving through the door on the opposite end from which he had come in. He knew this one led to the Wheelers' orchard — and, thus, away from the pool and the kegs.
The door was left ajar, so he had to push it open, nearly crashing into two girls' as they walked in. They both stared, in open-mouthed surprise, as he walked past them with a sheepish, urgent apology. Once they shut the door behind them, Carter felt a breath he didn't know he was holding evading him.
Relief. Finally alone. He thought.
"You see, now I don't feel special."
Carter whipped around with a bit of an undignified jump, toward the unexpected voice.
Johnny Mason sat in the white garden bench pushed against the cabin's outer wall. He smiled at Carter's shock, before his eyebrows pinched together. "I thought doors were our thing. Turns out you're just clumsy," he said.
Carter laughed, scratching the back of his neck. He wasn't sweating, but it was a hot and humid September night and his skin was a little clammy.
"I never took anyone to the infirmary," he offered tentatively.
Johnny's face fell neutral for a moment before his eyes crinkled with a smile. "So, I am special," he joked.
"You're definitely unique," Carter confirmed with a matching smile, sitting next to Johnny on the bench.
"Now, that's a thought to keep me going," the other boy mused, adjusting in his seat a little bit to face Carter. The warm light from the garden lamp above them swam in his eyes and Carter had a stupid mental image of honey being stirred under the sun; soft and mellow, warm and sweet. He shook it off.
"I didn't take you for the party type," Carter said after a few beats of silence. Johnny raised both eyebrows and Carter sat up a little. "I mean—What with, uh, spending all your waking hours in the library," he tried awkwardly.
The slow smile that formed on Johnny's lips – and his eyes – was a breath of fresh relief. "Yeah, you're right." He nodded solemnly. "I don't have much time left for parties. But luckily I sleepwalk."
Carter snorted a laugh. "Seriously?"
Johnny grinned, the amused glimmer in his eyes brighter than the lamp above their heads.
"About sleepwalking? No," he confessed, shaking his head. Carter chuckled. "My brother did, though. Used to scare the hell out of me, when I was little," Johnny offered in follow-up.
"Really? Why?"
Johnny's teeth scraped over his lip as though he was biting back the words his mind had prepared for him to say. Carter didn't even feel himself lean just the slightest bit forward; he only noticed he had, when Johnny released the lip trapped between his teeth to smile a little.
"He would walk into my room and stand next to my bed," Johnny started. "Like, right to my face." He emphasized that by holding his palm an inch away from his face. "It was so creepy. I wasn't even allowed to wake him up, because my parents said it's dangerous. So I just had to lie in the dark waiting for him to wake up on his own or leave."
"That does sound creepy," Carter agreed.
"Of course. I don't just throw away that term lightly," Johnny told him. It took Carter a second to identify the sarcastic lilt in his voice. He smiled, when he did. Johnny's lips curled slightly upward at that.
"If you didn't sleepwalk your way to this party," Carter made an attempt to continue the conversation, "why hide away back here?"
Johnny's smile softened – or maybe it faltered. "My little sister's in there." Johnny jerked his head towards the cabin behind them, filled with underclassmen. "She begged my dad to be here, but he wouldn't let her come alone."
"How old is she?"
"Fifteen. Freshly made," Johnny answered. "So, naturally, she feels like she deserves unlimited trust in her ability to take care of herself."
Carter laughed lightly. "Naturally." He nodded.
Johnny bit back a smile. "It just so happens, though, that I'm really not 'the party type'," Johnny added, making air quotes as he cited Carter's expression. "Hence, the hiding away and waiting out the party until a decently late hour to take a freshman home from her first party, without permanently damaging our relationship with life-long resentment."
Carter laughed. Johnny's eyes brightened with something akin to proud satisfaction.
"If you hate it so much, why come?" Carter asked.
Johnny shrugged. "Gives me cool big brother credit and some good son points as well," he said. "The latter will come in handy when I ask for my Christmas drone." He shot Carter a sly smile. Carter grinned, glancing down to his feet as he remembered his interaction with Coach Mason in the nurse's office.
"And what are you doing here?" Johnny asked. Carter looked up at him. "Back here, I mean. Not in the party," Johnny added, like an obvious side note. "Shouldn't you be out there, being the life of the party or something?"
"Oh," Carter said lamely. "I'm actually kind of in the same boat as you." The look Johnny gave him demanded Carter to explain, so he did. "I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on Luca Santoro. I wasn't really in the mood to come either, though."
He could have left it at that. It was a perfectly coherent sequence of thoughts. But, for some reason, he kept talking.
"The keg stands kinda triggered the hiding," he mumbled on.
Idiot.
Johnny shot him an inquisitive look.
"I hate keg stands," Carter clarified.
Johnny bit back an obvious smile. "Don't like being upside down or you don't like beer?"
That, Carter could tell, was meant to be teasing. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it, though.
With a self-conscious smile, Carter said, "I don't mind being upside down and I'm okay with beer. I don't really care for how the two work together." He joined his hands together with interlaced fingers to make his point, then dropped them on his lap, feeling a little awkward.
Johnny snorted, laughter crinkling the skin around his eyes. Carter gave into the contagious urge to join in.
"It's really dumb, isn't it?" He asked, between laughs.
Johnny shook his head, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Wouldn't know. Never tried it."
"Beer or keg stands?"
"Both," Johnny replied.
"You never tried beer?"
Johnny shrugged, unapologetically. "Not a fan of carbonated drinks," he said.
"I don't think you're really missing out," Carter confessed. "It kinda tastes like tar. With bubbles. And in these parties it's usually warm." He scrunched up his face. "It's kind of shit, actually."
Johnny cocked his head, curiously. "If you don't like it, why drink it?" He asked, like it was truly the simplest of thoughts.
"That," Carter mused slowly, "is a really good question."
Carter had never really thought about it. People were always nice enough to offer him beer and he was always nice enough to take it. But thinking about it now, it did feel dumb. Johnny could add it to the list of dumb things about Carter he could undoubtedly make up, at this point.
Johnny laughed softly, leaning his head against the faux-stone wall behind them and watching Carter from the corner of his eye. His next words were voiced like a reflective thought, "You're a strange guy, Carter Parrish. Anyone ever told you that?"
In all honesty, no.
No one had ever accused him of being strange. He was the varsity football team quarterback. Co-captain, as of this year. A reliable B-plus student. A committed member of the school community. He was a role model to most of his classmates and a friend to only a very restricted group of people. What he had never been was the strange kid.
"So... like a good strange or a bad strange?" He found himself asking.
Johnny grinned slowly. He narrowed his eyes playfully, staring at him like he was considering his question. "Good strange," he finally said. "I would know. Kind of the school's unofficial expert on all things weird."
Carter wanted to ask why he said that. Before he could, though, the door to the cabin opened behind him and Johnny's eyes darted over Carter's shoulder to take a look at who had just come out. As soon as he did, his eyes shot down and he turned his head away.