H. A. Carter Read Online Free

her after today.
    My mother once had major potential in life.
She was a great student in high school, getting top grades in all
her classes. She was pretty and athletic, but then I came along and
took it all away. My mother got pregnant her senior year of high
school, which according to my grandmother was a complete shock to
everyone. Apparently to my real father as well because he never
showed his face once news of my existence surfaced.
    “He's no one.”
    That was all the response anyone ever got out
of her when asked about my real father. She always seemed bitter
and resentful about it, but reluctant to give any further details.
I pried further once and rued the day, giving in to the thought of
never knowing the other side of my genetic make up.
    Lost in thought, I failed to hear the door
open and close. My mother strolled in through the kitchen door
while I sat at the table. She tossed her keys on the counter absent
mindlessly and stood in front of the refrigerator. I lowered my
head and quickly cleared the table before she turned back around. I
needed to be heading back or it would be too late. This could
possibly be my only shot at accomplishing my goal. Lunch hour was
already half over. Why did I stop to eat? I cursed my damned
routine.
    I had begun eating my lunch at home my senior
year. It was my only escape during the day to be free of torment
aside from my English class, which I never missed. I thought, at
least this way, no one can bother me. I could sit quietly, eat my
food, and plot my escape from this hell. At least at home I
wouldn't be made fun of. I wouldn't be tortured. No more mashed
potatoes thrown in my hair, or green beans shoved down the back of
my shirt. That was always a favorite with JJ and his friends. The
vegetable sometimes varied with the day's menu, but it was always
the same stupid prank.
    “Hey, Carter, over here!”
    “Yeah?” I said quietly afraid to turn my
head, but did so anyway.
    Just then either JJ or one of his cronies
would come running up behind me, grab my shirt, yanking so hard I
would nearly choke every time, and toss left over greens down my
back. Sometimes they would stick to the inside of my shirt, and I
would have to spend my free time in the bathroom scraping squashed
peas out of my clothes before class. Other times, the slimy food
would make a cool trail down my spine and slip out of the bottom of
my shirt to the floor.
    I would stand, frozen with fear and
embarrassment as he would trot off smirking and high-fiving the
rest of the group. I can't fucking believe they did it to me again,
I'd tell myself. I'd stand there wanting to just lie down and
cry.
    I hate vegetables.
     
    *
     
    During those times I would still pick myself
up and go on about my day. Trying desperately not
    to make it a big deal. I tried to be strong
then. I didn't want them to see more weakness from me than they
already did. But, sometimes, even the strongest people can only
take so much shit.

 
10
     
    I walked out the door quickly to avoid any
confrontation from my prying mother. I wore my navy blue backpack
with, “Harvey Carter”, embroidered in fancy white cursive across
the back. It was a gift from my grandmother sent via UPS two years
ago. She lived only across town, but she and my mother stopped
speaking a couple of years back and things just weren't quite the
same between us. What once were monthly family outings and
thoughtful birthday hugs, turned into generic hallmark cards and
yearly phone calls to make sure no had died.
    My backpack hung loosely over my shoulder as
I walked. Normally it was weighted down with Chemistry books and
Shakespeare, but today was different. Today it was empty, but heavy
with fear. At times I even thought of letting it slip off
completely and fall to the ground. You won't be needing it anymore
anyway, I told myself. Yet, I kept hold of it as if it helped
steady my nerves. The tips of my fingers turning a murky white as I
clung tightly to the nylon straps.