Untouchable (Untouchables, #1)

by Sam Mariano

stop in front of his car—a pricey, deep red Mustang with two black stripes running down the center. It looks like something a spoiled asshole would drive, so of course this is his car.

Maybe if people see he’s takin’ your side, they’ll stop givin’ us all such a hard time about your dust-up with Jake.” She is so transparent. I hate that she cares so much what other people think that she’s willing to turn a blind eye to my problems if Carter can make them all go away. As a kid, I followed in her footsteps and worried endlessly over what other people thought of me, too. As I’ve grown up, I realized that putting the opinions of others in such high regard is a shortcut to misery, and I don’t want to take that path. My mom never found her way to that conclusion.

“Are they still bothering you?” she asks, her voice low. “Something like that,” I mutter vaguely. “Well, you just keep your head up and don’t let them get you down. No one can dull your light unless you let them.” Rather than respond to her unsolicited platitude, I glance back at the doors to make sure Carter didn’t follow me inside to terrorize me some more. He didn’t, so I push out a breath of relief.

There’s clearly something wrong with him, but why? Did something make him this way, or was he born with something off in his head? Is he pure evil, or is there anything more underneath?

“What were you drawing?” I ask him. Carter cocks a questioning eyebrow and looks over at me. “Excuse me?” “In class. It looked like you were sketching something.” Amusement tugs at the corners of his lips. “Ellis, were you spying on me?” My face flushes faintly, but I refuse to be cowed right now, in relative safety. “I keep an eye on the predators in my immediate vicinity,” I inform him. “Likely story,” he replies with an effortless charm. “How’d you like the notes I took for you yesterday?” “Those were not notes. That was written porn.” “Erotica, then. Don’t be basic and pretend you don’t know there’s a difference.”

“You really are a spoiled little rich boy, aren’t you? You should try actually workin’ for something for once in your life. Not resolving to take it if your efforts aren’t good enough, but open yourself up to actually failing. Give yourself some real stakes. You might find it strangely exciting.” Carter smiles at me like I’ve just tipped my hand. “You want me to find you exciting, Zoey Ellis?” “I was not talking about me,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Sure you were.” He finally drops his arm from around my shoulder, just before backing away. “I’ll think about it, how’s that?” I nod my head. “You do that. Consider bein’ a decent person. See if you can figure out how to do it.” Flashing me a grin, he tells me, “I’m a straight-A student, remember? I think I can manage.”

Tales of Ordinary Madness. Carter seems like a Bukowoski kind of guy. Not the kind who buys it just to put on their bookshelf so they’ll seem edgy and interesting, but the kind who would actually consume every page and appreciate the madness, relate to the filth. The first time I tried to read Bukowski, I ended up red-faced and grimy with such a thick coat of shame, I felt like people could see it on me. Carter doesn’t know shame, though. He would be able to enjoy Bukowski the first time through. I realize my own thoughts sound a lot like admiration. Like there’s some part of me that revels in his brazen depravity.

Beaming up at me, she puts down her phone. “Have you had many blessings this week?” Have I? If I didn’t have to explain, I would probably count my bookstore gift card a random blessing that I appreciate, but the deliverer poses a moral dilemma, and I don’t want to lie. “Here’s a quandary for you,” I tell her. “Hypothetically, say the devil sent me a blessing. Would that still count? Would I be ethically compelled to forfeit said blessing?”

From the looks of Carter’s profile, he’s a typical golden boy. I almost choke on some of the bullshit captions, envisioning him choking on laughter as he types them out. “Such a privilege to have the governor show up for my team tonight. #GoLonghorns #Longhornlife #blessed” “Oh, my God, you are so full of it,” I say to no one, shaking my head. I’m lying tummy down on my bed with my feet in the air, perusing this stream of lies. A picture of him eating fries with Jake, Shayne, Erika, and some other girl whose name I can’t recall is captioned “Good food, good friends, good times.” “How long did it take you to come up with that one, Kerouac?” I mutter.

“So, where do you sit for lunch? I noticed yesterday I never see you. Not that I expect you’d be sitting with the cheerleaders, but I took a quick look around the cafeteria and didn’t see you anywhere else, either.” “I don’t eat in the cafeteria. Not since all this… stupid Jake stuff started. People stare and make disparaging comments. Your cheerleader friends can be real bitches, and I don’t even know why they care. They should be offended on my behalf, not taking his side. They need their girl cards suspended until they take a remedial class on girl power or something, I swear.”

“I’m not going on a date with you, Carter,” I tell him, plainly. “Why not?” I stare at him for a long moment, then sigh and shake my head. “You are relentless.” “Yep,” he agrees, before popping a salty French fry into his mouth. “You know why I won’t go out with you,” I tell him. “You can ask 20 more times, the answer isn’t going to change. If you wanted to date me, you should have started there, not… where you started.” “Well, I didn’t know I wanted to date you then,” he states, somehow reasonably. “I just thought you were some shy, boring nerd who grossly overreacted to Jake wanting to bang you. It took a couple interactions before I noticed what he must have noticed first. Now I see it. Now I want you. I’m much more persistent than Jake Parsons, I’ll tell you that now.” “See, that sounds like a warning,” I point out. “I don’t go out on dates with guys who exude such willingness to do harm. My type is ‘not a dangerous sociopath’ and I’m not convinced you fit the bill.” Carter smiles like that amuses rather than offends him. “I’m not a sociopath.” I press my lips together with exaggerated firmness. “That’s just what a sociopath would say.” “I’m aggressive when I’m going after something I want, that’s all. That doesn’t make me a sociopath.” I tick off fingers. “Superficial charm, intelligence, grandiose sense of self, ability to harm others without any apparent remorse, relentless pursuit of your own desires at the expense of others, liar liar pants on fire…”

Before I can continue my list, Carter laughs. “Was that last one a technical term, Dr. Ellis?” “It was,” I say with a nod. “I haven’t lied to you,” he says. “You lie to everyone,” I state. “From what I can tell, your whole entire life is a lie.” “I didn’t say I don’t lie to anyone, I said I haven’t lied to you,” he repeats meaningfully.

“We aren’t what is done to us,” I tell him. “People are going to hurt us, and it’s going to be hard, and sometimes we might never get closure. We might never understand why. But that’s the reason I asked. Maybe deserve isn’t the right word. People don’t get what they deserve, people just get what they get, and then they have to make the best of it.” He’s still standing there, watching me, but there’s a little less malice painted across his handsome features. “But I want that closure, and you could give it to me. I don’t need it from Jake, so I don’t know why I need it from you. I guess Jake just feels simple and generic, and I can’t help—I can’t help feeling like there’s more to you.” He stares at me for a long moment, and I’m struck by the thought that his mind is like an exclusive, secret club I desperately want access to. I want to know who he is, how he thinks. Maybe he’s simpler than I want him to be, and I would be disappointed, but one way or the other, I could stop wondering. One way or the other, I would have my answers. Instead of giving me any, Carter turns back around, pulls open the entry door, and says a little mockingly, “Come on, Ellis. Can’t be late to that next class.”

“If you were tryin’ to make my life less pleasant, congratulations, you’ve done that. The cashier you ‘babed’ me in front of yesterday? His younger brother. Now their whole family is going to be prayin’ for my soul.” Carter grins, like this brings him pleasure instead of embarrassment. “Happy to help, princess.”

Keeping my eyes on the French fry I’m breaking apart, I ask Carter, “What do you think my weaknesses are?” “What?” I glance up at him, but he looks genuinely confused by my question. “My weaknesses. When you look at me, when you appraise me the way I’ve seen you do other people, you sum me up and slide my traits and tendencies into boxes. We all do it, it’s how we process people. In your opinion, what are my weaknesses?” This question makes him uncomfortable. I see it in the way he shifts his position and breaks my gaze. Uncomfortable because he wants to get into my pants and figures offending me isn’t the best way to get there, or uncomfortable because he’s using my weaknesses to his advantage, and doesn’t want to tip his hand? If it’s the latter, he’ll lie. Try to misdirect my attention to some weakness he doesn’t find useful, maybe something that isn’t even a weakness at all. “I don’t think you’re weak. I told you, I think you’re strong as hell.” “I know. I believe you. But every person, no matter how strong, has weaknesses. That’s part of being human. People are imperfect. What do you think mine are?” “You don’t like football.” I slant him a mildly unamused look. “I’m serious.” “You steal all the flat wings and leave me with the drumsticks,” he states. “That’s what you get for making me share. Come on, something real.” He ignores me, as is his way. “Why are they called drumsticks, anyway? Drumsticks are long and skinny, they don’t look a thing like chicken legs.” “I wi...

“Are Brianna and Cartwright a thing?” Carter shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee. “Not really. Only when they’re bored or lonely. Sometimes when they’re both single, they hook up.” “Was that how it was when you guys…?” “More or less.” He smiles faintly. “We’re not as sexually reserved as you are.” “Yes, I noticed,” I agree. “Does that bother you?” he asks. “No. It’s just not what I’m used to, that’s all.”

“Has telling someone ‘you’re overreacting’ ever stopped someone from overreacting?” I ask him. “In my experience, it only makes it worse.”

“The natural reaction to me yellin’ at you about possible pregnancy and blamin’ you for potentially ruining my life does not seem like placidity—especially mere hours into a brand-new relationship. You should be runnin’ for the hills right now.” Shrugging, Carter takes a sip of his drink, then says, “Getting yelled at sometimes is part of the girlfriend package. I knew what I was signing up for. To be honest, I’ve given you more reasons than most to yell at me, so it was probably past due.” He puts his drink cup down and glances up at me. “You’re scared. I’m not gonna get mad at you for getting scared.” “I am not scared,” I shoot back, on instinct. Missing a beat, I ask for clarification, “What do you mean, I’m scared?” “You freaked out about the test, but that’s not what you started yelling at me about. That was just the thing that decimated your composure. You’ve told me everything that scares you about me in tiny increments. I think I might finally have the whole picture.” He grabs a fry and points it at me. “Curiously, the event responsible for you bombing that test isn’t even on the list anymore. If it is, it’s the last item, and only added on because you’re already mad at me and looking for reasons. That’s odd, but cool. Works out well for me. I can snip the wires of all the things that do have you freaked out, but if I had to cut that one, you’d be just like any other girl. You’re not, so you’re worth more to me, and you should relax. I’m in no hurry to get rid of y...

Every part of what he just said is fodder for some intense dissection, but I am stuck on the absolute hilarity of the first part. “Did you just say, Columbia Law?” His brown eyes sparkle with a hint of shared amusement. “I did.” “You’re going to law school,” I repeat, dumbstruck. “You are going to law school?” Flashing me a grin, he says, “That’s right. I’m going to be a trial lawyer. Not what you expected?” I throw my head back and laugh. It’s probably an inappropriate response for a lot of reasons, but I can’t help myself. When I catch my breath, I bring my gaze back to him. Seeing he’s not offended by my laughter, I ask, “Are you at least going to be gettin’ the bad guys off, or are you the one puttin’ them away? I have to know how deep your hypocrisy runs.” “Does it really count as hypocrisy if I’m well-aware of it?” he shoots back. “Most hypocrites are in denial, fumbling around with bullshit justifications and empty reasons why they’re special and breaking the rules doesn’t make them a bad person. People who do bad things but need to believe they’re still good—that’s a hypocrite. That’s not me. I don’t lie to myself like that. I don’t have to justify my actions in order to sleep at night. I don’t blame anyone else for the way I behave, or pretend I’m being fair when I’m not. I know I’m fucked up, I just don’t care.” Sighing, I tell him, “You’re shameless. I think that’s one of the reasons I like you, though.” “Probably. One of the many,” he half-jokes. “Oh, so many,”...

The rest of the group-hang is uneventful. Carter gets more attention here and there, and Cartwright and Brianna behave as if I have always been part of their crew. It becomes pretty clear to me that Carter is shifting his favor to these two now because of their easy acceptance of me, their willingness to turn on a dime and welcome me into the fold after happily hating me before. Partially to reward behavior he likes, and therefore encourage more of it, but also to show the friends of his he’s currently leaving out how they need to behave if they want back on the inside. It’s appealing, his ability to subtly shift the world and take what he wants from whomever he wants. I know I’m one of those things he subtly shifts from time to time, and I know it would be extremely unpleasant to fall from Carter’s good graces and suddenly be on the outside looking in, but that’s just who Carter is. High risk, high reward. I can’t pick and choose the pieces and parts of him I like and leave the rest. He is who he is. It makes him scary, though. Carter isn’t going to be an easy man to trust, and he isn’t going to be an easy man to control. On one hand, I tell myself I should be glad I’m only dealing with the high school version of him, because all grown up, he will be a force of nature for whoever has the bad luck of falling in love with him.

“Are you close to your mom?” I ask, since he hasn’t told me much about her. “We have a touchy relationship. We’re family, but we’re polar opposite people with polar opposite views of the world. I love her because she’s my mother, but I don’t always like her, if that makes sense.” “That does make sense,” I murmur, following him up the stairs. “I always felt like my mom had more potential, but she was limited by her own upbringing, and she never pushed past that to grow into her own. I wondered what she might have been like if she had taken a different path, made different choices. It’s the same with anyone, though, you know? Our paths curve, and who we become isn’t always who we thought we would be.”

Glancing back at me as he leads me up the stairs, he asks, “Who do you want to be?” Good question. “Still trying to figure it out, I guess. I have a few different destinations in mind, but I’m trying to be realistic. I know my ultimate destination depends on a lot of different things, so I’m making a few different plans that I could be happy with.” His tone amused, he remarks, “You’re always prepared, aren’t you, Ellis?” “No one can be prepared for every eventuality, but I do my best.” “Throw out the conditions. If you could be anything, if the world would just open up and let you have anything—what do you want?” I ponder that as I follow him to his room, trying on different lives, sifting through all the daydreams I’ve had about my future to see where they lead. “Well, I want to live somewhere with a cool, colorful fall, as we discussed before. Snow at Christmas. The whole nine yards.” Nodding briefly, he says, “That’s a given.” “I’ll probably want to get married and have a child or two. To play in the fall leaf piles,” I add. “A solid reason for procreation, if I ever heard one.” I crack a smile as he turns on the light in his bedroom, then I go over and climb onto his bed. “I want a job in a field I’m interested in, something I can continue to study so I’ll never get bored, but I also want to make a positive difference in other people’s lives. Ideally, I would like to be a professor or maybe a psychologist. Then I could study what interests me, and also apply what I lea...

Pushing me back on the bed and climbing on top of me, he says, “Might want to change my name to protect my identity. Otherwise, it will be pretty awkward when I’m sitting at the dinner table next to you.” My heart kicks up as he prowls over me, but not in the bad way. “Why are you sitting next to me in this scenario? Are you stalking me? Do we have a bad break-up and you just can’t let go? I cheat on you with Erika, don’t I?” Cocking his head, he says, “I’d watch that.” I roll my eyes and shove him in the shoulder. “Ew.” “Anyway, no, I’m not stalking you. We’re married.” Laughter bubbles up and I can’t quite keep it in. “We are?” Offering a confident nod only he could pull off when saying something so crazy, one single day into our relationship, he says, “Yep. You’re the one who stalked me, remember? Followed me to Columbia so you could chase off all my potential wives.” “Ah, right. How could I forget? And that led to marriage? Clingy exes ’round the world are going to be really excited to hear this works.” “It worked for you,” he verifies. “I didn’t want to leave you behind, anyway, so I was happy to see you peeking around pillars on campus. In fact, I flirted with a couple of ...

Carter’s little sister is wearing a crown, a princess dress over her clothing, and blue sparkly eye shadow that has been smeared clear up to her tiny, dark eyebrows. “Don’t I look pretty?” she demands. Dutifully, Carter looks her over. “Looking sharp, kiddo. What are you all dressed up for?” “Breakfast. My princess in the book Mama read me last night dresses up before she goes down to breakfast, so I did, too. Come on, it’s time to eat. Hi, bookstore lady,” she adds, an apparent afterthought.

“My fears have nothin’ to do with my father, Dr. Mahoney,” I say, dryly. “My fears have everything to do with what I know about you as a person, your life goals, and men just like you. Selfish people can’t be relied on, and a relationship is not a life plan. It’s important to do your own thing, that way you never come to a point where you’ve built your whole life around someone else and then they decide to leave and your whole world crumbles. A romantic relationship can be the icing on the life-cake, not the flour in the batter.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you,” he informs me, apparently immovable. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m not trying to close you out or hurt your feelings, but I don’t want to talk about this, and I need you to respect that.” Launching up off the couch, wide-eyed, I tell him, “And I didn’t want to blow you in front of your douchebag teammates or give you my virginity in Cartwright’s basement. Sometimes you don’t get what you want, and all you can do is fucking deal with it.” That should be the truth, that should be the winning hand. As much as I’ve overlooked for him, I really feel like he owes me a few minutes of discomfort. Telling me about some hook-up he impregnated is not even close to the level of what I’ve had to process and put away. I don’t have a problem making risky emotional investments in him, but if he can’t occasionally repay the favor… well, fuck that. That’s not a relationship, it’s emotional charity, and I’m not here for that. I’m just about to say that, too. I swear to God, I am, but before I can, Carter grabs me by the throat. Not hard, not to hurt me, just enough to startle me. Then he takes advantage of my shock to guide me until my back is pressed against a wall. The alarm coursing through me steals my words for a moment. I’m just about to open my mouth and tell him to get his hands off me when his hand falls away from my throat. I swallow and take in his expression, his energy, to gauge potential danger now that he’s not a moment away ...

“I had a fish, actually. A goldfish named Juniper. Unfortunately, it didn’t live for much longer than a year. I wouldn’t mind having fish again as an adult, if I had an actual aquarium with a filtration system and all that. Colorful gravel in the bottom, some of those cute coral things for them to play hide and seek in when I’m trying to find them in the tank.” Curling his hand around my hip, he says, “See, you even make fish sound like fun. I always imagined it floating in the tank all bug-eyed and getting bored with it in ten minutes.” I crack a smile. “You probably would. My fish would be my reading buddy. I’d set up a comfy chair in the corner by its aquarium and read it some of my favorite passages. When I’m so tired of studying for classes that I wanna die, I would turn to my fish for moral support. My fish would feel very important, and it would like me a lot more than yours would like you.”

I shake my head, stopping and running my fingers down spines until I find what I’m looking for. “I have a hunch the real world is going to be quite an adjustment for you.” He turns to watch me peruse the shelves, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I have a feeling you’re the one who will be disillusioned, not me. You and I don’t have the same ‘real world,’ princess. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” I drop my hand, momentarily abandoning my search. “That’s only because we’re in high school and you get to be Mr. Popularity. After high school is over—” “After high school is over, I’ll be Mr. Whatever I Have to be Next,” he interrupts, looking almost sympathetic. “The world’s not gonna change, Zo. What, you think we’ll swap positions of power? After graduation, you’ll be on top just because you work harder? Because you deserve it more? Because you’re a better person? It doesn’t mean anything, babe. I mean, it does to you, it’s who you are, but that’s not the world. I’ll be on top long after high school has ended. Not because I’ll deserve it any more then than I do now, but because I’ll bring the right toolbox. That’s it. It’s that simple.” Given I like Carter, my stomach shouldn’t feel so unsettled, but I hate the possibility that he’s right. My mind and heart both reject his version of reality, stubbornly insisting it means something to be a good person. Someday, somehow… it will matter that I do the right thing and he does the wrong thing. I don’t like making us c...

I almost hate thinking about it—not because I have a grudge against breakfast, but because I feel crazy to even consider it a possibility. It’s tempting, not only because I like Carter, but because I like the life I could see us having together. I really do enjoy him as a person. He’s spoiled, devious, and the mirror opposite of me in many ways, but we connect on a lot of levels, too. I would have never envisioned myself feeling genuine friendship with Carter Mahoney, but I genuinely like him, even when I think he’s a pain in the ass. I don’t want to get carried away daydreaming about a future that will never exist, though. A future he’s not at all serious about, despite the things he says that lead me to believe maybe he is. I don’t know why it feels like things have to move so fast with Carter. Maybe it’s because he is a lot to handle, he is a big gamble, and he moves fast. He blows past normal relationship checkpoints like they’re made for other people, not for him. It’s so easy to get swept up in his lightning speed, to fly as high as he does while he shares his powers, but I’m all too aware of how hard I’ll fall if he suddenly lets go and I go plummeting back to earth.

“I don’t care what you think of me, Erika.” Pointing to a random spot across the hall, away from me, I add, “Just judge me from way over there. Honestly, your opinion of me is not my business and I couldn’t be less interested.”

“I still care about you,” I offer, carefully. “I just can’t be with you. Whether you intended to or not, you damaged my ability to trust you. Knowing you’re unscrupulous with other people is one thing, but you’re right, in order for me to accept all your baggage, I needed to be the exception. I needed to be the one you treated like a teammate, like I was in on the joke you’re playing on the world, not the one you’re lying to and plotting against. That’s a deal-breaker for me, Carter. I liked feeling that you respected me and had my back. I would’ve had yours, too. But I didn’t sign up for this. I didn’t sign up to be like every other inconsequential girl you didn’t care about. And if that’s all I am, that’s fine. I can’t dictate how you feel about me. I’m not sayin’ I am special, but if I’m just like all the others, then I’m not interested. You can’t make me interested again, because I never wanted that in the first place.” Carter’s hot gaze burns into me. “You are not just another girl to me, Zoey. Can’t you see that? In a world full of phony bullshit, you’re the only thing that’s real. I do respect you immensely. What happened with her was before we officially got together. I know that’s a technicality, I know it still fucking sucks, and I’m sorry for that. But this is not something you and I break up over. I don’t care about Erika. She’s dead to me. I’ll never be alone with her again, you have my word on that. I care about you, I care about us, I care about the future I...

Looking over at him, I feel a strange stab of sadness for him. In so many ways, he is so spoiled, but in the most basic ways, I think he might be starving. Like he said to me once before, I am the first real thing Carter has ever encountered. To have gone this many years never believing a single person likes who he is… I can’t imagine how lonely he must be, despite his superficial fans and his army of minions. My own thoughts make it even harder to stick to my guns. I yearn to wrap my arms around Carter and give him a big hug. To tell him even when I’m so angry at him I want to scream, I still like him. I always like him—and not the shiny, perfect side of him, either. I like the filth and the sadness and the darkness. I do crave his depravity, because I know it’s inside him whether he has somewhere to put it or not. I love being the place he puts his darkness. I love being the keeper of the secret of who Carter really is. I love him, dammit. I didn’t entirely mean it when the words slipped out that night in a post-orgasmic bliss bubble, but God help me, I do. I love Carter Mahoney, and that means I am well and truly fucked.

“I don’t actually care about being a nice girl, Jake,” I tell him. “I am who I am, and if people like it, cool. If they don’t, fuck ’em. You want me to be someone I’m not, that’s the problem. You want to vilify me. You want to see me as shallow and meaner than I am, you want me to like Carter for his money, and you want him to have cheated, because wouldn’t that just serve me right? You wish ill on me, but it’s not for anything I’ve done, it’s just what you need to see in order to be the good guy in your own narrative. Here’s the problem. You’re not the good guy. You’d be a much better guy if you just admitted to your fuckups and imperfections. If you want to be the good guy, act like one, don’t try to warp everyone else to make yourself look better. That’s not just lazy, it’s cowardly and pathetic.”

“Look, what do you and I have in common, Jake? What do I like to do in my free time? What’s my favorite subject in school? Why is it my favorite? What do I want more than anything else in the world? What is it about a guy that really turns me on? Why do I come to my boyfriend’s football game, then spend half the time studying? Am I just an asshole? What matters to me? For that matter, what is your favorite thing about me? Not physical, something else.” He blinks vacantly, completely unprepared for any of those questions. I nod my head knowingly. “Exactly. You don’t know. Carter does. He knows the answers to all those questions and more. He gives me answers to questions I didn’t even have. Carter gets me, and he likes what’s really there. I’m an idea to you, that’s all. Being infatuated with an idea might feel nice, but it isn’t real. I am not the girl you have in your mind. If I were, you wouldn’t be so constantly agitated by my reality. Carter and I see each other, the real shit, the dark and dirty stuff, not just the nice stuff. We know each other well, and the more we learn, the more we like. We just fit better. That is the explanation. That is why he and I are good together, and you and I never could be.”

I’m not sure funny is the word, but it’s certainly remarkable how different things are from how they were before Carter. When I was nobody, when I reported Jake’s behavior, not a single person sprang to my defense. Not even my own parents. Now, Jake is a little unpleasant to me and I have cheerleaders and parents running to my rescue, all because now that I’m Carter’s, I matter. Now, I have a voice worth listening to—because I belong to Carter. It’s kind of annoying, but I guess I’m not going to change the world all at once. I’ll take the reprieve, and maybe someday my voice will matter, even when he’s no longer around to make it count. Or maybe not. Who knows?

“Well, do yourself a favor and don’t tell him no just yet. Think it over, Zoey. Think long and hard. If you love him, maybe the small sacrifice is worth it. He can give you a beautiful life. Chances like this don’t come around a lot in one lifetime.” Neither does the chance to go to college, I want to tell her, but I don’t want to fight, so I keep my mouth shut and flash her a faint smile. “I’m gonna go upstairs so I can call him.”