Free Sophie & Carter by Chelsea Fine Page A

“This is way better than running away to Hollywood.”
    I laugh. “Totally.”
    I squeeze her hand to remind myself that I’m not dreaming. I love Sophie Hartman, and it doesn’t scare me at all.

SOPHIE
    Two days later, the dull morning sun falls quietly upon the blackened remains of Carter’s kitchen.
    Our graduation picnic seems like an eternity ago.
    I’m sitting cross-legged on the damaged kitchen floor praying the sound of my thudding heart doesn’t disturb the silence I know he needs right now.
    Carter’s sitting next to me, staring off into nothing, and I feel completely useless.
    I don’t know what to do so I scoot closer to him.
    A minute goes by.
    I tuck my hair behind my ear as I scoot even closer.
    Another minute passes and the room feels cold.
    I wiggle closer still until our knees are touching.
    Much better.
    I take a deep breath and wait out the silence.

CARTER
     
     
    On graduation night my mom lit the kitchen on fire.
    After Sophie and I finished our picnic we took her siblings to the school carnival. While we were there I got a phone call from the police and rushed to the hospital to find my mom with burn marks all over her body and stitches in her head.
    She burned down two walls of our kitchen and shattered the kitchen window by throwing herself against it in a delusional rage.
    She’s bandaged and bruised, but she’ll be okay.
    Physically, at least.
    The doctors insisted she be transferred to a mental healthcare hospital, undergo psychiatric evaluation, and be admitted as a resident….
    Indefinitely.
    The social workers were there also, assuring me she’d be happier and safer under the care of the state. I nodded because they wanted me to, but my stomach felt hollow.
    I had no words or fight left inside me.
    My mom seemed excited by the idea of leaving. Even yesterday, when they loaded her into the state van, she didn’t look afraid. She smiled like she was going on a tropical vacation.
    I didn’t cry, but my heart hurt.
    This is what the doctors have been saying would happen for years.
    I shouldn’t be surprised. I should be happy she’s finally surrounded by skilled individuals who can give her the kind of care she really needs.
    I should feel good about this.
    I should feel relieved.
    But instead I feel…numb.
    I’ve been sitting on the floor of my burned kitchen for three hours. In silence.
    Not mourning.
    Not wallowing.
    Just…shocked.
    It’s heavy in here.
    Sophie’s sitting next me, though, helping to shoulder the weight. She hasn’t said a word all morning. She doesn’t need to.
    I should be sad and full of despair. I should be black inside and empty. But I’m not.
    There’s no darkness inside me. Because Sophie is here.
    And I can feel her goodness seeping into me.
    It’s rolling across the glass-littered floor and floating up the charred walls. It’s drifting through the stale smoke and settling on my back, wrapping me in hope.
    Hope for a new life, a new beginning.
    For both me and my mother.
    Hope for the future and gratefulness for what I have now.
    Like Sophie.
    “I love you.” I say, not looking at her.
    “I know.” She shifts a little, her small knee brushing against mine. “I love you too.”
    I slowly smile and it feels real. I’m okay.
    I’m going to be okay.
    We both are.
    “I know,” I say and I reach out until my hand finds hers.
    We sit in silence for who knows how long, just like that.
    Knee-to-knee.
    Hand-in-hand.
    I hear Michael, Abram and Chloe’s laughter coming from next door. They’re messing around; oblivious, happy.
    I smile again. Because I know we’re all going to be okay.
    Today…tomorrow. Every day.
    I turn to Sophie, stare at her for a minute, and slowly ask, “Wanna just…get away? Start over?”
    She looks at me and slowly smiles.
    “Totally.”
    The heaviness in the room slowly lifts, filling the kitchen—and my chest—with…hope.

SOPHIE
    We’ll be okay, me and Carter. We don’t really have a plan but I know