Delivering pizzas is not the ideal job. If it's not the rude callers, it's the bad tippers. And, of course, there's always that dick who decides to order a pizza five minutes before closing time. However, the job does have a few perks - namely, getting to take home any orders that weren't picked up.

So I knocked on Carter's door and prayed that she liked Hawaiian pizza.

I heard the lock slide back on the other side of the door before it opened. Just a crack, like before. Carter's red hair spilled out and she looked me up and down again with her raccoon-makeuped eyes. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "Hey neighbor. Come to borrow a cup of flour? Because I don't remember ordering a pizza."

I shrugged and looked down at the greasy box. "Yeah, but I can't eat this by myself." A lie. I totally could.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at me and then at the pizza. "It's not hippie veggie pizza is it?"

"Hawaiian."

Carter eyed the pizza hungrily but I could see that she was fighting to maintain her cool. "I guess I could have a slice or two. But only because your efforts are so pathetic, they're endearing." She started heading out into the parking lot.

"Where are you going?"

She turned her head and grinned. "What, you thought a pizza would get you an invite inside? You'll have to try harder than that. Come on. We're headed to the park."

I hesitated. "The park" was really just a rundown slide/swingset behind the motel that had been put up back when the hotel was new. Lopsided and falling apart, it was more of a gathering spot for stoners than for children. I never took Stacey there, though she'd innocently asked several times.

Carter kept walking either ignorant of my hesitation or unconcerned. Finally, I just decided to follow her.

When we got there, Carter ran up the slide (the structure swaying dangerously) and plopped down underneath the monkey bars. I held my breath and followed her via the rickety ladder. The whole structure swayed again but somehow managed to hold our weight.

I tossed the pizza between the two of us and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to catch my breath. Carter was something else. "So, why here?" I finally asked, flipping the lid of the box open and grabbing a slice. I took a bite and thanked God above for the great man that is Papa John.

She ignored my question as she slid a slice out of the box. "What's your angle, Evans?"

"What do you mean?" I eyed the container of garlic sauce but thought better of it. It wasn't that I was expecting a kiss or anything but I didn't want to knock Carter out with rank breath.

She chewed slowly and seemed to consider her words. "Well, why so enamored with the girl next door? Is this some kind of misguided fantasy of yours?" She mockingly wiggled her eyebrows and her mouth turned up at the right corner.

I picked at a piece of pineapple and thought it over. What could I possibly say that she wouldn't twist into something sarcastic or cynical? "Because you're interesting," I finally blurted out. "You're different; out of the ordinary. And I like that."

What Carter had been expecting, it hadn't been that outright honesty. She blinked and said nothing for a moment. Finally, she regained her composure and grinned. "You kind of talk like you're in a movie."

I laughed and looked down, chagrinned. "Yeah, I guess that sounded a little cheesy."

"A valiant effort nonetheless." Her eyes sparkled and I realized they were a beautiful turquoise color.

"So, does that mean I get to learn a little bit about the mysterious Carter Rae?"

Again, she seemed to think it over. She absently twirled her long red hair around her fingers - an endearing quirk. "I guess. But only if I get to learn a little about you," she challenged. "Quid pro quo, Clarice." She winked.

That got a laugh out of me. "Alright. Sam Evans. Eighteen. I go to the local high school and my favorite color is blue."

"Carter Rae. Eighteen. And my favorite color is purple." Her guard was still up but I felt like I was getting somewhere.

We talked for hours. As the pizza slowly disappeared, we discussed everything from childhood pets to favorite bands. But one thing that we never touched on was Carter's expulsion or family life. Every time we skirted either topic, she would come up with a witty remark or sarcastic joke and the conversation would change directions.

As the sky grew darker, I could tell Carter was becoming more comfortable with me. Her smiles lasted longer and if I wasn't mistaken, she had moved slightly closer to me. She seemed less guarded and untrusting. And, much to my surprise, I was becoming more relaxed with her as well.

My watch read 10:23 and Carter lit a cigarette, taking a long drag from it.

"Those things will kill you, ya know." I pointed to the cigarette and raised an eyebrow at her.

She grinned and blew the smoke up at the sky. "So will greasy pizza."

"It's not the same thing."

Carter sighed and looked at me with a look of total seriousness. "You can do everything right. Exercise, do yoga, eat an apple a day...and you wake up one morning, step outside, and get hit by a bus. We're all headed for the grave. Might as well have a little fun on your way there.

I blinked in surprise. "That's true, I guess. But kind of morbid, don't you think?"

Carter shrugged and took another drag on her cigarette before answering. "Death is part of life. Choosing not to talk about it doesn't make it any less inevitable. Like taxes." She grinned and winked in my direction.

"You do that a lot," I observed.

She flicked some ash from her cigarette and looked at me closely. "Do what?"

"Say something serious and then follow it up with some sort of joke. Like you don't want people to realize that you actually care about anything."

"Getting all psychoanalyst on me, Evans?" She raised an eyebrow, with an amused look on her face.

"Are you saying it's not true?"

She blew cigarette smoke in my face and smiled. "Does it matter what I say?"

I looked at her for a long moment, not saying a word. Finally, I broke the silence with the question I'd been dying to ask. "Why the change, Carter? From the president of the chess club to drop out. I just don't get it."

Having finished her cigarette, she dropped it and crushed it out with her foot. "So you've been asking about me."

"Maybe."

She chuckled but there wasn't much humor in it. "Then I'm sure you've gotten plenty of information."

"Rumor mill garbage. I want to known what really happened."

Her eyes narrowed when she looked back at me. "Maybe I'll tell you. One day." She stood up and brushed her self off. "But not tonight." And with that, she winked and went backwards down the slide.

Before I had time to think, she was already on her feet again and heading back to her motel room. I watched her as she walked away, not sure what to think. That's when I heard her singing. It was a song I'd heard on the radio before but I couldn't think of the title. All I knew was that she was incredible. And that's how I got the idea that started it all.