I’m expecting Carly to laugh along, but she’s mostly silent, nodding before heading straight for the kitchen. All three of our heads—mine, Ali, and Vinny—follow her as she reaches inside the fridge, grabs a mango, and heads towards the utensils, where she grabs a knife.
“That’s not a good sign,” Ali whispers. “She won’t do this unless she’s mentally exhausted herself.”
She gets to work scoring the mango before cutting the mango in half. After placing the knife in the sink, she grabs a spoon and makes her way to the couch. Ali and Vinny get back to organizing the cards, while I ignore them and observe Carly.
I have never seen someone eat a mango like that
I’ve also never seen Carly like this. Normally, she’s filled with energy—usually anxious and excited, probably a mix of both—but now, it’s like her sparks died out and she’s barely making it through.
“I think I’ll sit out on this round,” I tell Vinny passively before heading towards the couch, sitting down on the cushion next to Carly.
As she shoves one spoonful of mango after another, I lean closer and ask, “You okay, Firecracker?”
“Just peachy,” she grumbles before taking another spoonful of mango.
“But you’re eating a mango.”
The spoon is halfway to her mouth when she turns, and the harshness on her face begins to disappear. “Did you just make a joke?”
“No,” I answer, pretending to be clueless. “Just stating the obvious.”
“Crew, you’re not that good of an actor.” Another bite. Wow, she is demolishing that mango.
“Because I’m not one anymore.” There’s so much more to it. I’m not the Crew she first heard about in the tabloids, and she knows that. But anytime someone brings it up, this little ball of fury inside me grows.
Kind of like what happened when I last talked to my father, and Carly came to my aid by bringing me somewhere to collect my thoughts and take my mind off it. She must be stewing over what happened at brunch.
Which gives me an idea. It may not work, but I've got to try for her. Because, for some reason, I miss seeing Carly’s smile. Her energy is contagious, no matter how she’s feeling.
“Do you have anything else planned for today?”
Carly’s curious gaze meets my eyes, and she shakes her head. “Why?”
“How do you feel about driving?”
I can’t understand what it is about Carly. When she’s around, the energy in the room shifts. From my studies, I know that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Science has proven thatCarly’s positive, sun-like brightness has been converted to dark, depressing matter that needs to be reversed. Immediately.
“But my car,” she groans.
“Then I’ll drive,” I offer, which perks her up instantly.
“Where are we going?” She asks. “And can I bring my mango?”
I nod, chuckling. “It’s a surprise, and yes, you can bring your mango with you while we drive.”
Carly studies my face for a minute, trying to decipher anything that could possibly give away where we’re going. I don’t keep track of how much time passes because I’m just staring blankly.
My face may look neutral, but my brain is working overtime.
“You are so lucky, I enjoy surprises.” After taking one last bite, she grabs a napkin and wipes her lips before standing up. “Let’s go.”
Okay, I’ll admit: my eyes linger on her lips for a little longer than they should have, which is not at all, before clearing my throat as quietly as possible and gesturing to the door. “Right behind you.”
As we make our way to my car, once again, I’m itching to ask what’s wrong.
“Was the brunch that bad?”
She shrugs. “Honestly, it could have been worse. At least she wasn’t insulting my career choice this time.”
