The Anima App (Part Two)

It only takes a moment for Carson to dash out of his last class of the day, slamming right into me. I don't even notice him as I stare at the frost-covered ground. Winter's ending soon. How am I almost already done with the school year?

“Sorry,” he amends, barely sounding it. Typical. “I need to get home right away; homework, you know”

I arch an eyebrow. “What about tonight?”

“Yeah,” Carson spreads his palms, exasperated. “Tonight. As in... at night”

He’s hiding something.

“Why’re you so distracted?” I ask him as we hop off the sidewalk. A car blares its horn at me, so I flip it off. Karma.

“What?” Carson tries to weasel his way out of my gaze, but I have him strapped down by now. He won’t be able to lie to me if he stared into my eyes. “I’m not trying to hide anything.

“I’ll tell you later,” he huffs, catching wind of my current mood. “Tonight”

“At night,” I crack a smile.

“At night,” he reports back.

His grey hoodie trails off behind the matching clouds, shrouded by the dirty bushes adorning his house's spacious yard, leaving me alone in the street.

Another car honks at me, so I give it the same treatment as before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"If I find you in my room," Carson's aunt points her gnarled finger at us. "I'll kill you. Understand?"

I swallow uncomfortably, her steely eyes staring pointedly past Carson. For some reason, she's spent half the time I've been here giving me furtive glances. The other is taken up by her sneers.

"Yes, Mayweather," he turns back to me, already dismissing his aunt. "Go have fun at your meeting, or whatever,"

"My business will never be understood by insolent children like you," Mayweather pulls her scarf over her pale face. "Don't burn the house down while I'm gone"

Carson just stares at her as she leaves. "What's her deal?" I ask, but Carson waves it off.

"I don't want to talk about it"

Wow. I guess my normal Carson exited stage left. Enter Broody Carson. The boy of half baked cookie disasters and shared eye rolls during homeroom gets replaced by the man whose family shared the same fate as my own. Of course, Carson had someone else to go to.

Carson swears Mayweather had a hand in the death of his family. She swears it was just a normal gas leak. I just try to ignore it all.

"So," he tries to shake it all off. "Where do you wanna go? I'd rather get out of here; I don't think she'd mind if I don't come home tonight"

A suspicious smile snakes its way across my face. "Obviously. Dinner at Mc Donalds, of course. And then 'Olympus'"

He nods, already approving of a plan that's invaded his life at least twenty times before. 'Olympus' is the space above the foster home, a section of the roof Ms. Trachard gave to me. String lights slash across its perimeter in twinkling x's, peeling paint chips gathered in an abstract mosaic we made for art class. For some reason, Carson seems to hang out there more than he does here, inside Mayweather's hulking mansion. Before his parents died, Mayweather was deemed an unsuitable godmother. Somehow, she'd take the title- and about a million dollars. The woman who used to spread conspiracy theories and waste time on her 'experiments' in some foreign country became Carson's new mother quickly. It didn't take long for us to realize something was up.

Still, we're kids, living in a kid world. Maybe just for tonight, we won't have to worry about all the other fucked up shit in the world. Maybe the environment will get better. Maybe a politician won't lie. What if the thousands of wishes we make on dandelions become true?

We race out of the house, sliding down the sleek banister, streaks of grey replacing the mundane walls and dusty furniture. Carson trips at the last second, giving me one last advantage.

"I call driver!" I lean against his cherry red car, one of the only perks of Mayweather's money. She won't notice if I put some scratches on the side of her third car, would she?

"You can't call driver," Carson huffs, crossing his arms. "You don't even have a drivers license"

"Fine," I moan. "Then I'll take shotgun"

"We're the only people in the car," Carson nods as he clambers into the driver's seat, shoving his copy of the key in. "You have to take shotgun"

"I could sit in the back"

"Then I'd be lonely!" he pouts, feigning puppy eyes.

See? This is the Carson I want. Not some lovesick loser. Not some broody batman type. Just my friend.

Why do people have to change?

He takes a jolting left turn, catapulting our bodies against the side of the car. For someone who's so good at building cars, Carson isn't exactly the best at driving. Each second, he changes between slamming on the brakes and fumbling with the turn signal, trying to shut it off. I've never sat in that seat, but I could drive better than this.

Somehow, we end up at Mc Donalds in one piece. "We should have gone to Wendy's" Carson shuts off the car, leaving the crisp dusk air behind as the scent of new fries wafts into my nose.

"Wendy's is shit," I tell him, snatching a booth seat from a few snotty kids and a tired-looking mom. I don't have any money (or advice) to give her, so I try a smile. She returns it, only to lose sight of her youngest daughter.

Okay, so maybe I feel bad for rushing her out of her seat. Still, she had the one in front of the fish tank. I think I deserve that today.

Carson's finger traces a stray fish, it's yellow stripes peeking out from behind a rock as it splashes away.

"Go order for me," I tell him. So he does. Such a good friend.

"What do you want?" Carson asks, just offbeat. He winces at the very end. Everything Carson does is awkward; I love it.

"Just fries," I stare at the same fish as it tries to hide from me. Bitch. "Large"

"Same here," he rushes off to the nonexistent line, talking as fast as humanly possible to the girl at the register as if she really cares how he looks, or how he sounds. If I don't care enough about what people think about me, Carson cares too much. She hands him our order without even looking up from her phone. She's so distanced from Carson that he wouldn't even be able to tell if she goes to our school.

"Come to momma," I snatch it from his hands, wolfing down a few fries from his box.

"Hey!" he protests, digging his own hand into mine. "Don't steal!"

"Let's compromise," I take his tray and place it on mine, dumping the fries onto it, creating a salty mess. We take turns grabbing a handful. Of course, Carson has to gingerly dunk them into ketchup, almost deliberately slow.

"You're stalling," I point out between mouthfuls. He looks almost scared before he puts on his poker face.

"You're angry," he notices. "What's your deal?"

Oh, Carson. Why do you have to be so stupid sometimes? The shitty (yet catchy) pop song gets replaced with something moody, stripped guitar. The sunset outside faded to a dull pink only a few moments ago, deserting us along with the other patrons of this fine restaurant.

"What's this?" I pull out the paper he dropped earlier today. Instead of freaking out as I thought, Carson just sighs.

"Why did you grab it?" Carson ponders aloud.

"Would you rather I just left it?"

"I dropped it?" he sounds actually concerned for a moment. Too bad it's all about him right now.

"Yeah," I snort. "You should be happy I found this before someone else did"

"No one would know I wrote it"

"It wouldn't take a genius to find out," I growl. "I mean... what were you thinking? What are you thinking?"

"I just..." he falters for a second. "No. Nevermind. It's stupi-"

"No... I want to know"

Even I'm surprised by my interruption. Carson just coughs and moves on. "Can we talk about it later?"

"It's night," I point out. "You promised"

"Shit," he mumbles. "I guess... I just like you, Caddy. You're my closest friend. And I wanted to be closer than that.

"We've spent so much time together. We've been together for longer than most of the couples at school!"

"And you want to change that?"

"No! I just want to love you, Caddy"

"You can't say that"

"What do you mean?"

I sigh, folding my hand over my face. "You can't say you want to love me. Because you already do"

He doesn't respond, only nodding, staring at the fries. "Why can't I just be friends with you?"

I want to ask him the same question. We spend so long in those positions, him hunched down, face right next to his little capsule of ketchup. Me sitting over him.

For once not knowing what to do.

The fish flit around us. I want to submerge my head into that tank. For the first time in my life, I know what it is to be suicidal. Is it hopelessness? Is it nothing? Am I just dead already?"

No. I have to push it away. Why can't we just move on? I pull Carson's head up, watching as he squints at me.

"You have ketchup on your face," I tell him because that's what friends are for. He dutifully makes quick work of the stain, sighing as he finishes.

"I can't love you," Carson realizes, mumbling the words. A thousand little fairies spring from him, all the romance he thought was still left.

Well, I don't have to feel bad for him.

"You can't," I confirm. "Carson... there are thousands of girls that would like you"

"No," he shakes his head. "You're only saying that"

Shit. he's seeing straight through me. I guess I'm losing my touch. "Well, I just want you to feel better"

"Why?" he explodes, shifting up. All the fish propel away from him, their bright colors flitting away like the sunset in the distance. "Why do I have to feel better?"

"Because I want you to," I repeat. "I don't like seeing you like this"

"Well, you'll have to fucking deal with it," Carson storms out of the room. "I don't know what we're going to do, Caddy"

"I'll see you on Monday," I sigh, leaning back into the ripped fabric of my chair.

"Whatever," Carson drifts off through the doors. "Find your own way home"

"Excuse me?" I catch his hood, snatching it. His mouth releases a painful choking noise that makes me immediately let go. Carson rips the hoodie out of my hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't want you to go," I try to keep composure, but I'm practically melting before his eyes. I'm just unable to stay up.

"Well, you don't get to control me"

"Why?" I shout, only realizing my mistake one second too late.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Carson shouts back as he jumps into the driver's seat. I make a move to get in beside him, but Carson pushes me back. "Don't"

"Why is this romance shit so important to you anyway?" I yell back.

"Why is this friendship shit so important to you? You won't let me out of it. Did it ever occur to you that I don't have many other friends?"

"Because you're antisocial?"

"No! Because I had to devote all my time to you! I never even got to live!"

"Oh, drop it!" I shout. "Your poor little white boy act isn't going to scare me"

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Why are we even arguing?"

"Because you can't change!" Carson turns on the engine so that he has to scream for me to hear me. People rush past us, trying to stay out of our way. "Every day, Caddy... I wonder why you don't change.

"I heard that you rejected those people today. Why can't you just find a home?"

"Because I don't belong to a home," I answer back. "And... I wanted to be with you. I would have had to move"

"Yeah," Carson sneers. "I wonder how that's working out. You want to know what I think?"

"Not really," I admit begrudgingly.

"You're too self-centered to change. You don't think you have to. Everyone else has to change for you to even consider it. You'll say it's a new fad, and then fucking join it! You're exactly like those mindless girls you make fun of in school!"

"Fuck you," I tell him, my mind completely devoid of any real insults. When I first told him that, Carson wouldn't talk to me for days; he was insulted that I would ever tell him that.

I guess we're going back to that. At least this time, he doesn't even seem fazed; his eyes just latch onto the street as he swerves onto it, nearly smashing the side of Mayweather's car on a pole.

There aren't any stars to wish on tonight, are there? Only satellites, pretending to be tiny miracles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're late," Ms. Trachard points out. "It's one in the morning"

"I really don't care," I tell her, shrugging my shoulders as I throw myself onto the stuffy couches in the waiting room. I don't want to be here. I barely even want to be alive. "Why do you?"

"I honestly don't give a shit," Ms. Trachard admits. "You just look depressed"

"Yep," I pull out my phone, scrolling back and forth between the two pages, alternating between my home screen and lock screen. Off, on, off, on.

"Tell me what's wrong"

"People," I tell her, my noncommital answer barely even registering on her iron face.

"Sure," she sips her tea, eyes cloudy. "Well, I'm going to bed. Don't play your music too loudly"

"I will," I promise back as she gets up to desert me. Traitor.

My shoes clop against the linoleum as I run to the stairwell, jumping two steps at a time. Who needs time.

Fuck. Love.

Before I know it, I'm back at Olympus, each fairy light streaming together through my tears.

Am I going to do it?

Will I become a statistic? A tiny fucking number on their charts?

No. I can't do it. I can't jump. I never wanted to die.

I just wanted to be numb.

There are so many ways to do it. I guess I'll try all of them.

Nothing is clear anymore. Why did my love turn itself upside down?

Why am I still here?

My parents are dead. For the thousandth time, it sinks in. I don't need them though. I don't even need Quinn.

I don't need friends.

I don't even need Carson.

I just need a story. I would kill for Quinn's story. I want to feel like the hero again.

Who knew I never had a chance?

I am the ice queen.