Weeks following the outburst, Mark had managed to keep his promise. The night the watermelon hit the floor was the last time Mark went apeshit on either Grace or Carter. That night, or rather the morning after, was the first time anyone has had to go to the ER. Mark had never broken more than skin before, but that night he broke a tooth.
The house was quiet. Pleasant, even. And wildly unfamiliar terriroty to Carter. She initially found the change unsettling, she sat waiting for fists to fly, but it never came, and over time she began to adapt.
This calm atmosphere wouldn't last, Mark's happy attitude didn't last that night. But there was no harm in taking advantage of it, was there?
Carter went to Vee's nearly every day, then came home to a tolerable Mark and an abnormally upbeat Grace. Jonah came around three or four times a week, occasionally bringing coffee and donuts. The boys had even managed to replace the oven with one they found in Second Hand. Maybe the worst is over. Carter thought to herself and smiled. It was fun to humor the idea, at least.
She had been dreading summer break. As much as she hated school, it provided another excuse for Carter to leave the house. Though, for the first time since she can remember, she's enjoyed everything about her summer vacation following Mark's outburst.
Aside for Cole ignoring her, anyhow, as he's done for more than a month now. For the most part, Carter could brush it off. But sometimes when she went to Vee's it was hard not to notice Cole leaving the room at her presence.
It felt like there was a cold nail in Carter's knotted stomach whenever she thought about it. What had she done to make him so mad at her? It started that night at the park... was Carter too loud and obnoxious that day?
Would trying to pry make Cole more agitated? Carter played with an eraser between her thumbs. Vee had told her that Nadia said Cole was starting some new medication that might make him moody for a period. Was that all it was?
Carter pulled herself back into attention. Vee laid on a lab table, unable to talk or move for the next nine minutes. Admittedly, she wasn't doing a stellar job. Her legs fell over the edge of the surface and swayed in the air, making Carter prod her side, as if to say 'sit still'. Vee squealed.
Coach loudly set his pen down on his table; a nonverbal cue that the next several minutes would be dedicated to silence. Carter looked at her shoes, knowing full well that eye- contact with Vee would result in a laughing fit and a detention slip.
The two were ninth graders now: official high schoolers. They were adults now pretty much, there was no room for warnings when they misbehave.
Carter turned her focus to the blank lined paper in hand. Using her knee as a writing board she wrote: Subject refrained from talking for 6 minutes. Movement to a minimum.
Carter propped her head on her fist, her elbow on her leg. Being in the back of the room she could observe her peers. Some students were writing on their papers. Others were daydreaming, watching things far from view. The few remaining tapped furiously into their phones, careful to stay out of sight from the teacher.
Coach chirped his whistle, grabbing the attention of the students. "Partner A will now take Partner B's pulse." He instructed, consulting his watch, "You will be expected to turn your papers to the front in ten minutes; that's 13:45. Anything later will be docked three points for every one minute it's late."
Cracking her neck, Carter took Vee's wrist, jotting her pulse down on the sheet.
"You think Coach'll be impressed with that?" Vee asked doubtfully. The paper wasn't even a quarter of the way filled.
