Achieving Unbroken
Chapter Thirty Three

—

"Like a spotlight, the water hits me
Ran it extra cold to shake the words from my mouth
Though I know that no one's listening,
I nervously rehearse for when you're around"
The Other | Lauv

—

Jason
[Saturday, July 16th, 2018]

"Jason..." a muffled voice courses through my head. I automatically assume it's a dream, that it could be Joey — only the image in my head is pure darkness. "Jason!" The voice gets louder and clearer, and when I listen to it the second time I determine that it isn't Joey; the voice is too high. "JASON!"

My eyes fly open, heart racing.

Carl is standing above me, right next two my bed, staring down at me like he's expecting something.

"Jesus, Bud, you can't do that," I groan, arm flinging over my face to cover my eyes from my bedroom light that he turned on. I try to bury my face back into my pillow and see if I can just automatically fall back asleep, but Carl won't allow it. I feel his finger jab the bare skin of my back once, twice, and three times before I turn over again. "Okay, okay! I'm awake. What's up?" My hand raises to my eyes and I rub the drowsiness from them with the heel of my palm.

"Come to the library with me. You said you would last week."

Searching through my memory archives, a conversation with Carl awhile ago pops into my mind:

"Hey Kiddo! What's up? Why the long face?"

"I'm so bored! I read all of my books, what do I do now?"

"Well, we can take care of that! I'll take you to the library next weekend."

Fuck.

"Yes, I did! Just gimme a few minutes to get ready and eat breakfast. Have you eaten?" My voice is still scratchy from waking up, but at least I can sit up with my arms propped behind me.

"Yep! Dad made me a sandwich before he went to work."

"God, how long have you been up?" I check my phone on my nightstand, and the time reads 9:23 AM.

"Since 7:30," he shrugs, turning around to shuffle through my dresser.

"What're you doing?" I try to ask, but he doesn't answer until I feel a soft shirt collide with my face.

"Put a shirt on and come downstairs."

With that, he turns sharply and exits my room without another word. With one hand, I un-crumple the shirt that he threw at me, and see that it is a long sleeve crew neck that I had in my dresser drawer for a reason. It's summer, why do I need it? I've been sleeping in boxers and nothing else for over a month. If I didn't, I would loose two pounds in just sweat.

Instead of putting on the shirt, I find a pair of basketball shorts to put on and decide that it's good enough. Carl gives me a disapproving look when I walk into the kitchen.

"What happened to the shirt I gave you?"

"It's already 75 degrees, Kid. That shirt was long sleeve, so these shorts are gonna have to suffice." Huffing, he props himself on the counter while I fish a bowl from the cabinet and pour a mountain of cereal into it, followed by milk.

"Am I going to need to eat that much when I'm sixteen?" Carl inquires. I shrug; mouth full of food.

"Depends on if you're growing, if you're an athlete; lots of factors. You honestly never know." Seemingly satisfied with this answer, he nods thoughtfully, and makes no more comments as I ravenously finish up my breakfast. "When do you wanna leave, Bud?"

"Ten o'clock."

"On it."

I jog back upstairs, running into the bathroom and cleaning myself off. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I throw a short sleeve shirt over the basketball shorts (I changed my boxers, I'm not disgusting) and grab my wallet, keys and phone before running back down to leave with Carl.

"All set?" I check, but he's already at the door, holding it open. "Okay then."

We both get into the car, him sitting shotgun and me in the drivers seat. As we pull out of the driveway, my phone buzzes, and because I'm a responsible driver, I quickly gesture to the phone with my right hand.

"Can you see what that notification was for me?"

And, I know, what if he fucks around like Diamond and Sapphire?

Carl is Carl. No way in hell would he text someone from my phone.

... Unless it was Lilla.

Oh shit.

"It's a text from... Patrick," he draws out. I let out a relieved breath and nod for him to continue. "He says 'Dude, good news! You're definitely on Vinnie's invite list for the beach house, and he managed to get Lilla to go! Still waiting on Pipe tho,' and he finished the message with a frowny face." I grin a little when I listen to Carl's silly imitation of what he imagines Patrick sounds like. "Wait, what beach house? Where are you going? If Lilla's coming, can I?"

Well, now would be a good time to ask my parents about that, now that I'm invited.

"It's something that a friend of mine does every year," I vaguely explain. The words a friend of mine still feel unnatural to say, and Carl notices it too.

"A friend invited you to something?" He sounds happy, and hopeful. I don't take my eyes off of the road, but his tone of voice indicates that he's smiling.

"Yeah, he did." I smile a little, too, thinking about how nice it is to feel included again.

"Why is Lilla going?"

"'Cause she's friends with the guy hosting us."

"Why is it bad that 'Pipe' hasn't confirmed her attendance?"

"'Cause the guy who texted me, Patrick, is whipped."

"'Whipped'?"

I internally groan. I have so much to teach Carl. Sometimes, I forget that he's only ten. He acts so much older in some cases, and then he'll act his age in other situations.

"Patrick like-likes Pipe."

"Oooooooh," he hums, once I break it up in his language. It makes me chuckle a little, remembering the days of crushes and elementary school gossip. Things were simpler back then; before assholes were actually assholes and we all turned into people so different yet eerily similar to our young selves.

"And now, we are here!" I say cheerily, a small part of my hoping that he will stop interrogating me about the weekend at the beach house. Without a word, Carl is racing out of the car and up to the grand entrance of the library.

Sighing, I mentally prepare myself for three hours of searching for books and Carl's irritating indecisiveness.

—

"Jason?" I hear behind me as I lean against a bookshelf, just watching Carl sift through rows and rows of books. When I turn around, I see the last person I was expecting: Raquel.

"Oh, Raquel, hi." I can't even tell if it's on purpose or not, but I definitely sound less than excited to see her.

"Hi! What're you up to here?" I nod my head back to where Carl is crouched down.

"I'm with my little brother." She peeks behind me, face softening when she sees him.

"Oh, how precious. I didn't know you had other siblings! You must be such a fun big brother." Shifting myself so that my back is flat against the shelf, I angle my head to glance at Carl, who is sending me panicked looks.

"Yeah," I say through a highly forced smile. She's inching herself closer to me, and it's freaking me out.

"How cool. If you guys are almost done, we could go get something to eat after?"

Removing my weight from the shelf and standing up straight, I put my hands out in front of me to real her back in a little, because she's getting a little too ahead of herself. My head shakes adamantly.

"Oh, no, we can't do that. We just got here, and..." I lower my voice. "Carl isn't that good with strangers. He's... Bitten some people."

Her eyes bulge.

"B— Bitten?"

I nod, faking sadness.

"Yeah. He doesn't do it with everyone! But forcing new people on him too soon really just puts him in panic mode. I'm sure you'll get the opportunity to meet him formally soon, but now just really wouldn't be a good time."

Thank the good Lord above, she is already slowly backing herself away, a small smile on her lips.

"I totally understand, but another time?"

"Definitely."

She walks away so fast it takes her mere seconds to be out of the building, and the fake grin that I had pinned to my face falls. I turn around fully to see Carl glaring at me, a book in his hands.

"I've bitten people?"

"As far as she is concerned, you're the closest thing to a vampire the world has ever seen. Understood?" He hums some sort of agreement. We sit in silence for a few moments before he picks up a new book, speaking up as he looks it over.

"She was weird."

"I know."

"Does she like-like you?"

"Supposedly, yes."

"Do you like-like her?"

"Not at all."

"Do you like-like somebody else?"

I hesitate for a long pause. This has been a question I've been grappling with for awhile, and yet while I'm pretty sure of my answer, I can't help but always be second-guessing myself.

In the end, I respond with a nod. Carl seems okay with this answer, because he stares at me, a long time, like he is trying to read my mind. Something eventually clicks for him, I can tell because his head tilts back a little, like the idea just hit him; and without another word, he goes back to looking at books.

I consider, for a moment, the thought of him knowing that I'm thinking about Lilla. He's probably known for a long time.