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Flynn’s not sure what they’re expecting.
In the few months since school let out (since, really, Nick got unpossessed), Carrie and Julie have been hanging out a lot more. Carrie’s met the ghost boys. She’s jammed out with the band. She and her dad seem to be over for dinner at the Molinas’, like, every other night, though Flynn thinks that might have more to do with Ray’s interest in Trevor than anyone’s interest in Carrie.
And it’s not that Julie’s spent significantly less time with Flynn because of this development—well, okay, she has, but not so much less time that Flynn can justifiably be upset about it—it’s just that despite Carrie’s invaluable help with the whole “saving Nick and Willie and putting the fear of Julie Molina into one Caleb Covington” thing, Flynn’s not ready to forgive her.
But Julie is. Which means whenever Julie and Carrie hang out these days, Flynn finds herself frustratingly left out.
She did this to herself. They know this. Doesn't make them any happier about it.
Today, Flynn’s at the studio early, waiting for Julie to get back from apple picking with the Wilsons so that they can show her a new song they’ve been working on. While she waits, she’s been tidying up what looks to be the remnants of a fairly chaotic band rehearsal—empty soda cans and Luke’s clothes all over the floor, the couch cushions removed and set up into some kind of fort, and some kind of glitter-glue substance they’d rather not identify caked over the skin of Alex’s drums.
“It was quite the rager,” a voice drawls from the doorway.
Flynn spins around in surprise, a pair of jeans in one hand and a pillow in the other.
Immediately, their face falls. “Carrie. What are you doing here?”
Carrie leans in the doorway, arms crossed casually over her chest. Her outfit looks way too clean and expensive for her to have just come from an orchard—though Flynn’s sure the Wilsons have their own personal forklift or something so they have to touch neither a tree nor the ground. “Julie invited me,” she says with something in between a real smile and her teen-movie-villain one. “She’s just grabbing something from the house. Did she… know you’d be here?”
Flynn grits their teeth. “Yes.”
“Cool,” Carrie says, instead of the, Well, she must have forgotten Flynn was expecting, so they suppose that’s something.
“Oh, here.” Carrie pushes up off the door frame and starts dismantling the rest of the pillow fort, setting the cushions back in their rightful places. “Sorry about this, we all went to bed really late and got up early, or else we would’ve made the ghost boys clean up.”
Flynn stands frozen in place, swallows back a white-hot burst of jealousy. “You guys had some kind of party last night?”
“Oh, god, no,” Carrie scoffs, almost a laugh, almost genuine. “No, can you imagine? Three ex-ghosts and no Flynn Taylor? Be a pretty lame party.” She takes the pillow out of Flynn’s hand, returns it to the couch, then makes a face at Luke’s pants and gingerly tosses them under the loft. “No, Julie was just letting me watch them rehearse, and then Alex and guitar boy got into a fight about sleeves or something and it became a whole thing.”
She rolls her eyes at Flynn, like, Boys. What can you do?, and Flynn feels abruptly like they’ve stepped into an alternate dimension.
In the five minutes they’ve been standing there, Carrie has cleaned up the bulk of the studio without annoyance or complaint. It wasn’t even her mess, she was just there to see it get made, and yet she’s taking responsibility for it.
Who is she?
“Why would you help me?” Flynn says, dumbfounded.
Carrie looks up at her, and Flynn swears they can see the flicker of emotions changing in her eyes, can see as Carrie’s brain moves past the instinct to be mean and makes the choice to be genuine instead.
Carrie takes a deep breath and says, “I’m trying, Flynn, okay? I was giving you space cause I know you’re not as easily forgiving as Julie—and rightly so—but I would like to be your friend again. If you’ll let me.”
Flynn’s jaw drops. She doesn’t think Carrie’s ever said something that nice to her before. She definitely wasn’t expecting Carrie to say something that nice to her now.
Carrie’s right, Flynn’s never been one to just forgive and forget. But trying… that, they think they can do.
“Clean the glitter off the drumset and we’re even.”
Carrie’s face screws up in disgust, but after a moment of thought, she sighs and says, “Fine. Deal.”