Read Online The After Girls by Leah Konen - Free Book Online Page B

maybe someone would have thought that she was hurt, that she’d been attacked, but not here. She almost wished that she was hurt, really hurt, with a broken ankle or arm or even just a sprain. She wished that she could trip and fall and have a reason to scream and cry. She wanted concrete, physical pain, instead of this: the abstract, the questions, the guilt — hot and angry and empty and heavy all at once.
    Carter came up to her shortly after. He sat down next to her, about an inch away without touching. He didn’t say anything yet, but his presence, his tall lanky body and stupid curly hair, was almost comforting. Almost.
    When he finally spoke, his voice was honest. “Max can be kind of an ass sometimes.”
    “It’s not just Max,” she said, without looking over.
    “I know.”
    They didn’t say anything more for a minute. The sunset was more progressed now. Almost purple. A mosquito buzzed by and landed on her arm. She swatted it away.
    “I guess you want me to come back in there,” she said. “And learn to count.”
    Carter looked back towards Max, and she followed his gaze. He was hunched over his notebook, probably working out another damn chorus, his back facing them.
    “Max just doesn’t know what to do with you,” Carter said. “I know he feels bad about what happened, and he — ”
    “So that’s how he’s trying to help?” she asked. “By criticizing the hell out of me?”
    “It’s a lame tactic, I know,” he said. He crossed his arms in front of him, then let them go again and stretched out his legs. Carter was all angles. He never knew quite what to do with himself. “What I mean is that he’s scared,” he said.
    “Of what?”
    “Of you, of things that are real. You know.”
    “We broke up a year ago,” she said. “Why does it matter?”
    “He still cares about you,” Carter said. “And he knows that you need somebody, and he just gets freaked out and then starts shit and pushes you away.”
    She stared at Carter then, and he looked so open and honest and comforting. He was so good sometimes. Too good.
    After a minute, she put her hand on his shoulder and forced a smile. He was so tall, she almost had to stretch. “Carter, babe. I think you’ve been listening to too much talk radio.”
    “My mom puts it on in the car,” he said. “Not me. I only listen by proxy.”
    “Mmm hmm,” she said, laughing. “Sure.”
    “Well tell me I don’t have a good point, here,” he said. “Just trust me on this one.”
    Sydney crossed her arms in front of her. “So you want me to come back in?”
    He sighed. “Max will be Max,” he said. “Just try not to let it get to you.”
    She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on her palms. “Whatever,” she said. “Let’s go.”
    Carter jumped up immediately, but then he seemed to change his mind and squatted down so his face was level with hers. Close.
    “And Sydney,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
    “You didn’t do anything,” she said. “It’s all Max.”
    “I’m not talking about Max,” he said. “I mean, you know, everything else.”
    “Thanks,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
    “It’s not anyone’s,” he whispered, shaking his head. He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Come on,” he said, jumping up again, grabbing her hands and pulling her with him. “Let’s go.”
    “From the top!” Carter yelled, as they walked back into the garage. Sydney retrieved her bow quietly, avoiding Max’s eyes. She picked up her fiddle and waited.
    But Max caught her eyes. “From the top,” he echoed, looking straight at her. “I’ll try to be better with my cues this time.”
    And she knew that that was the only apology she’d get.
    • • •
    That night, she leaned against the back wall of The Grove with Max and Carter, adjusting her earplugs, pushing them in tighter, as the lead singer of Death Star let out a long piercing wail and strummed on an electric guitar