"If you touch me there one more time, so help me God you'll be picking your balls out of a cheese grater for the next five years."
"Whoa woman." Isaac backed up and put his hands in front of him. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"
"Gee, lemme think. My dad's laid off, my guitar strings are freyed, I have no money to fix them. Our toilet keeps over flowing. Which is why Melissa and I keep running back over here to pee. In case you haven't noticed. I got a bad haircut, I look like shit, I'm supposed to sing tonight. I have no clean clothes or anything appropriate because it's supposedly a really dressy thing that I'm supposed to sing at so I need a nice dress so I don't even think I can go and I really want too. And Melissa thinks that my shittiness is amusing, so I had to take care of her. And I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to oxygen. Do you think that qualifies as me waking up on the wrong side of the bed? Hmm. I dunno. What do you think?"
Isaac took another small step back and laughed.
"DON'T YOU LAUGH AT ME!"
"God, I didn't even do anything to you, you just walk in, I walk by you, and you jump all over me."
"YOU TOUCHED ME BOOB!"
"I did not. My elbow brushed against your ribs. Now lighten up."
Carter growled. "Where's Zac."
"Upstairs, but should I warn him you're coming, cause I don't think he's ready for this."
"Shut up." Carter stomped up the steps.
Zac jumped up when he heard a loud thud outside of his door, followed by a "SON OF A BITCH!".
"Uhm? Come in?"
Carter threw the door open and ran over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a muffled scream. "This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Do you know how much this sucks?"
Zac laughed. "Toilet still not working?"
"That, and now my guitar is screwed up. My hair sucks, and I don't have the right kind of clothes to sing at that thing tonight."
Zac put his hand on the top of her head and examined her now, chin length, layed hair. "I like it. I really do."
"Fuck you."
Zac laughed again. "Oookay. Somebody needs a nap."
"You think?"
Carter sat on Zac's bed and complained for about 2 hours before she finally looked down at her watch and muttered something about an "uncle fucker".
"What's that?"
"I guess I gotta go. So I can call that place and tell them I'm sick and I can't show up."
"I guess so. Can I at least have a friendly kiss before you leave?"
"I'll be back. I just have to go home and inform my dad and stuff."
"So is that a no?"
Carter smiled and kissed the top of his nose. "That's all for now. Be back in a bit." And with that, she was out of his room. He could hear the doors to the balcony and her bedroom slam.
Carter went downstairs for a snack and soon fell asleep on the couch. She dreamed about showing up to the "place" and screwing up. Her guitar strings popping off, and her baggy jeans clashing with the atmosphere. She dreamed about trying to do laundry and having the washing machine blow up. And having the toilet overflow all over her shoes. But when she woke up an hour later, she was glad it was all a dream. She sighed in relief and went upstairs to her room so she could call the "place".
She stopped dead in her tracks when she looked down at her bed. There was a long black skirt that seemed to have at least three layers of dark red mesh fabric over the black opague layer on the bottom. And sitting on top of it was a dark red, shimmery tanktop. Carter stared at it. She picked up the tanktop to get a closer look and there were a package of new guitar strings and two small red butterfly clips for her hair, something to smooth down the effects of the new cut. "Holy shit." She laughed, not believing that Zac went out and bought all of this for her. It was the prettiest outfit she had ever laid eyes on and she wondered how Zac had picked it out. "Pretty good taste."
She picked up the skirt and held it up to her waist. Then she noticed the little note that had been under it. She unfolded it quickly, smiling from ear to ear and she read it.
Carter, I know you've been having a really hard time lately, so I thought this would help. Think of it as an apology for "touching your boob". Kick some ass tonight. Love, Isaac.
His name was scribbled on the bottom, like he wrote it in a hurry, but it was his name. As clear as day to her. And she had no idea what to do about the gift.
Isaac put his glass of orange juice down as a thought occurred to him. "Did she say, she 'took care of Melissa?'"