Chapter 5: The Cantaloupe Oracle
Carter was a dead man walking.
"Hey, that’s my loudspeaker! Give it back!" the delivery guy chased after me.
I stormed straight to the boys’ dorm, loudspeaker in hand.
I hoisted the loudspeaker, channeling all my pent-up rage. "Carter, get down here and face me!"
A head popped out from a third-floor balcony. "Carter says he’s not here."
Coward!
I handed the loudspeaker back to the delivery guy. "Go ahead, let him have it!"
He cleared his throat and bellowed, "Carter, your ex-girlfriend asked me to bring you a message: What kind of man are you! What kind of man are you! What kind of…"
Carter finally stormed out, fuming.
"Brooke, just you wait!"
His footsteps thundered down the stairwell.
By the time I finished paying the delivery guy, Carter had already burst outside.
He moved like lightning…
I grabbed the first thing I could and hurled it!
Pia—
It smacked Carter right in the face, then clattered to the ground.
I felt something sharp under my foot.
I looked down.
Ah!
Only one slipper left. Classic.
Couldn’t walk straight, so I just took off the other one, too.
"Brooke, you dare!"
Carter’s face was so dark, you could see the outline of the slipper.
I know when to cut my losses.
"This pair of slippers is what you deserve. We’re even, goodbye!"
Run!
As long as I run fast enough, he’ll never catch up.
But nobody warned me—it rained last night and the ground was covered in little crabapples.
I stepped on a bunch at once and went down hard.
Wuwuwu~~~
Wanted to cry.
Just then, a handsome face appeared above me.
"Hey, are you okay?"
I blinked, dazed. Dang! Is there a cute guy at our school I haven’t met yet?
I squeezed out a tear for effect.
"Ouch, it hurts. I don’t think I can get up. Can you carry me to the infirmary? A princess carry would be best."
I looked at him expectantly.
Just as he bent down to help, someone swooped in and picked me up first.
Carter hoisted me onto his shoulder, then grabbed my stray slipper.
"Dylan still has class. I’ll take you to the infirmary!"
School infirmary.
The pretty school nurse checked me over, poking and prodding.
"Does it hurt here?"
"Yes!"
"Here?"
"Yes!"
"Here?"
"Hurts too!"
The nurse paused, deadpan.
"Pretty lady, what’s wrong with me?"
She glanced at Carter, then said, "Congratulations—comminuted fracture. You’re a medical marvel!"
I blinked. Did I look like I believed that?
She blinked back, totally unbothered.
In the end, she scribbled a note.
"Sprained foot. Put on some ointment and rest for a few days. You’ll be fine."
Whatever—big or small, an injury’s still an injury. As long as I could blame Carter, it was all good.
Leaving the infirmary, I started bickering with him.
"See? It’s all your fault. You owe me compensation for emotional distress!"
Carter sneered, "You don’t look emotionally distressed."
"Who says? I’m just really good at hiding my true feelings!"
He ignored me and stomped off.