TIME & TIED: DESTRUCTION

ARC 3.1 - With Chartreuse

PART 50b: CARRIE ON 2

"So. I heard you’re finally going out with him,” Frank said. "Carrie, is that wise?"

"We're going to the central cafe after school today,” Carrie answered, twirling the cafeteria's spaghetti around her fork. “Barely a date. Why? It’s not like you’ve seen him do anything weird during your little investigations this past week, have you?”

"Well, not as such..."

“Fine. Then meeting Glen this way will give me the chance to finally make up my mind about him,” Carrie concluded. She brought the noodles to her mouth.

"But what’s the rush? If he really likes you, he can wait," Frank insisted.

At first, Carrie could only lift an eyebrow, her mouth full of pasta. “The RUSH?” she said after swallowing. “Frank, it’s the cafe. We’re not making out behind the bleachers."

"Frank, sweetie, I love you to pieces, but give it a rest already," Luci sighed, having swallowed her own bite of sandwich. "There is NO evidence that Glen is anything more than what he claims to be, yeah?” She turned to Carrie. "So go. Enjoy yourself. And if Glen does anything uncomfortable, walk away!”

The young girl smiled, then pursed her lips. “Though, okay, maybe fish for more information from him too. Because... yeah. Just in case?”

“Um, okay,” Carrie agreed. “Will do.”

***

Glen swung the door of the cafe open and held it there for Carrie as she entered. "We can sit at the counter, if you like,” he offered. "This is meant to be informal, after all."

“Right,” Carrie agreed, moving to take a seat on one of the stools. Glen sat next to her as a waitress approached. Her nametag read 'Lita'; Carrie supposed Theresa had the day off.

"Can I take your orders?" the server asked brightly.

"Um, strawberry shake for me," Carrie replied.

“That’s it? Whatever you want, it's on me," Glen assured her.

"Yeah, a shake's fine. I'm not really hungry yet.”

"Make it two then," Glen concluded. Lita nodded and headed off.

There was a momentary silence. "So, a strawberry shake. You're not allergic to strawberries?"

Glen fired off a smile. "Of course not. Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, well, you know, around," Carrie said, reaching up to twist a few strands of hair about her finger.

"You shouldn't listen to rumours," Glen admonished. "Particularly with respect to me, since I've been spreading disinformation around the school."

Carrie blinked. "What? Why?”

Glen leaned his elbow on the counter. “Because I figure to really know a person, you should come out and speak with them, one on one. Word of mouth is not to be trusted. Heck, if I went by the rumours, I would have to believe that you're a self-centred individual who enjoys using guys and tossing them aside like last week's laundry. But that's not the case, is it?"

Carrie felt her cheeks growing warm. “No.” She turned her interest to the nearby napkin holder. “Not lately, anyway.”

"There you are then. Too often, rumours get way out of hand - for instance, I find it hard to believe that ANY girl could have slept with the entire football team."

"WHAT?! I've never even... who said THAT?”

“Nobody. I didn't say that was a rumour about you. Could you please let go of my shirt?"

"Oh, uh... yeah, sorry," Carrie said, releasing her grip on Glen and sinking back into her stool. He was doing this deliberately, right? Was he trying to be funny, or was it to keep her off balance? She studied the countertop.

Glen smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful when you're indignant?"

Having no idea how to reply to that at ALL, Carrie was thankful that Lita chose that moment to deliver their shakes. After thanking the waitress, she sipped in silence, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation around. "I think I see a problem with your philosophy."

"Oh? What might that be?"

“If you assume that everyone you speak to is merely passing on rumours, you'll never tell anyone the truth. Which means you get a legit reputation for being a liar.”

"Aha, but one can be honest about certain things, and it's the people who'd trust the liar reputation that I'd want to keep off balance,” Glen countered. “Still, I see your point. So how about this? I'll answer any ONE question you have completely, utterly, one hundred percent honestly. Fire away."

Carrie blinked at Glen in surprise before regarding her shake again. Only one question? Okay – then should she ask about where he came from? About his relatives? His most important memory? "All right," she said, turning back. "Why me? Why have you set your sights on me?"

“Oh.” For the first time since Carrie had met him, Glen finally seemed unsettled. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to know about my favourite sports celebrity or something instead?”

"No," Carrie said. "Me. Why me, Glen? The truth!”

Glen shifted his attention to behind the counter. “Fine. Here it is. The first time I saw you, I sensed something. Not love at first sight or anything so trite, but I sensed that you possessed some sort of... extraordinary ability. That was enough to get my attention.”

He turned to regard her again, leaning his cheek against his palm. “From there, I realized you’re a bit of a... paradox. Athletic but still studious. Reserved yet outspoken. Atypical, yet not someone who stands out. Rumours and history aside, I can't believe you don't have a steady boyfriend here. So I thought, what the heck, I'll try my luck." He raised an eyebrow. "Plus, I can't deny it, you have a sizeable chest. Which also counts in your favour.”

“You were doing so well.”

“Hey, I said I'd be one hundred percent honest. Feel free to smack me for-- okay then. Feel better now?"

"Much," Carrie said, shaking out her hand. He was still trying to keep her off balance. She took another sip from her shake, contemplating the first part of his answer. "You say you sensed an ability in me," she said. "What ability, exactly?"

"Aha, well, that's a second question, isn't it?" Glen remarked. "Though I must confess, I'm still trying to figure things out here. And it'll probably take me more than one date to do it accurately.”

“So you’re hoping that I let you..." Carrie’s voice trailed off. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Something wasn't right here. It was like deja vu. Something was...

Carrie leapt out of her seat. "Out! Everyone, get out of here,” she shouted.

As heads turned towards her, there was an explosion in the kitchen. Smoke began billowing out from the back room, along with a few licks of flame. People screamed as customers began to run for the doors.

"Okay, everyone stay calm, let's exit in an orderly fashion,” Glen called out, standing up next to Carrie. A cook stumbled out of the back, coughing, his face streaked with soot.

It was in the middle of the chaos that Carrie went numb. As she looked around her, all she could think was how she'd seen this before. In that vision she'd had with Chartreuse over a week ago. Except now, it was actually happening. What she’d seen was actually coming true. No, no, how could it possibly be so REAL?

"Carrie, come on,” Glen called out. The curtains near the kitchen had caught fire. Yet still, Carrie couldn’t move. Was she going to start seeing these sorts of things regularly? How could she possibly deal with that?

Glen marched back toward her. "Carrie, if you don't move right now, I'm going to carry your ass out myself,” he shouted.

His words finally broke through. Carrie began to run for the door. She and Glen were the last two to exit, the sound of approaching fire engines reaching their ears as they collapsed onto the ground outside.

Carrie knew she hadn't inhaled that much smoke, yet she felt sick to her stomach. Because she'd had a vision of the future. A terrible vision - that had come true.

"Well, ten out of ten for foresight, minus a few points on reflexes," Glen said, coughing next to her. "Are you all right, Carrie?"

"I need to go home now.”

Glen blinked. “Hey, I know this hasn't been the best way to end our first informal date, but..."

"It's not you," Carrie interrupted, fighting to keep the sensations of nausea and panic in check. “But I have to go home now. I'm sorry. I’m sorry!" She stumbled to her feet and began to run away, back to the safety of her house, as fast as she could go.

"Can we take another stab at this sometime in the future?" she heard Glen call out after her. Carrie didn't reply.

She managed to make it home before she threw up. She told her father she didn’t want dinner, and went to bed early.

She then stayed in her room all day Saturday. Ignoring attempts at communication by her friends. Fearing that another vision would happen. And worrying about what to do if it did.

On Sunday, she had a more persistent visitor.