I gave Connor a faux smile. “Connor and I often see situations differently.”
Connor paused his eating to give me an exasperated look.
“What’s your favorite subject?” Brian continued as if he didn’t notice.
“I don’t know.” I turned my attention to stirring my soup. “I’m not really a great student.”
Dad passed me the basket of cornbread. “They don’t teach classes on makeup or accessorizing, huh?” He winked as if we’d just shared a bonding moment.
Amy, having a brain and therefore realizing this comment offended me, jumped in with, “I wish I had a fraction of your style and creativity, Skylar.”
“We just bought her a sewing machine, and she’s making a lot of her own clothes now,” Mom said.
Amy’s eyes widened. “How impressive.”
There were five other kids at this table—couldn’t they harass one of them? “I don’t make a lot of my clothes.”
“You made that skirt,” Connor said.
I glowered at him. “Skirts are easy.”
“I can’t sew at all,” Amy said with a laugh. “My mother tried teaching me thousands of times, but I never could get it. I’m too impatient.”
Mom pressed her napkin to her mouth so as not to smudge her lipstick. “Skylar is completely self-taught.”
Okay, enough about me. “Isn’t Abbie’s hair shiny?”
Amy gave a knowing smile, then indulged me by turning to Abbie. “You do have very shiny hair. Is it from a special conditioner?”
After dinner, I helped Amy with dishes. That’s how badly I wanted to avoid Connor—I would rather do housework than be in the same room with him.
“So, you and Brian were high school sweethearts?” I asked as I dried Amy’s well-used kitchenware.
“I met him first period of freshman year.” Amy smiled into the soapy water. “I knew my life would never be the same.”
“And you guys were together until you got married? You never took a break or anything?”
“We had our share of disagreements, but nothing worthy of calling it quits.” Amy evaluated the pan she’d just rinsed and plunged it back into the water.
“I can’t even imagine you guys fighting,” I said. “You seem so perfect.”
She frowned at my word choice. “Brian and I have our rough days—we’re human—but we try to learn and improve from every argument.” Amy examined the pan again. This time it passed inspection. “Every day in marriage, you either grow together or grow apart. There’s no standing still.”
I thought of my parents at the dinner table, two rocks sitting across from each other.
Amy noted my silence. “Why don’t you go watch the movie with everyone else? You’ll have plenty of years of drying dishes.”
“I’m happy to help.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s nice for me when you and Connor fight.”
I flushed. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.”
“I caught him sneaking back in the house last night. Or should I say this morning?” Amy returned her eyes to her task. “I’m aware it’s more than nothing.”
I didn’t answer, just fell into my own thoughts.
Finally Amy unplugged the sink, signaling the end. “This will pass,” she assured me, wiping food splatters from the counter. “You two need each other.”
15
Sadly, I couldn’t lift Connor out of my life like I wished. I avoided him with ease during the school days, only to find myself sitting alone in my car with him at the end of Wednesday. I glanced his direction and caught him zoning out.
I sighed. “Five more minutes, then I say we leave.”
Connor shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re so impatient. School has hardly been out ten minutes.”
I leaned back and stared at the characterless building. “I like to spend as little time here as possible. Your brother is cutting into my ‘me’ time.”
“My brother? What about your sister?”
I shook my head. “Abbie’s finishing up some English project. Her friend Jenna is giving her a ride home.”
“Has she told your parents yet?”
“About what?”
Connor gave me a look. “You know what.”
The muscles of my jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. That’s something I only discuss with friends.”
Connor looked about to say something when Chris arrived, short of breath and red faced.
“What’s wrong with you?” Connor asked as Chris climbed into the backseat. Chris responded with a glare and Connor didn’t push.
Strange. Connor and Chris never fought.
On the road, Connor poked at my radio buttons, dissatisfied with everything. “Did you know we’re having Thanksgiving together? Our moms arranged it on Sunday.”
My grip on the wheel tightened. “Like it’s not bad enough being your chauffeur. Now I have to spend holidays with you as well?”
Connor sighed and stopped trying to talk to me.
At home, I found Mom in the kitchen, standing in front of the open freezer. She closed the door with her foot because each of her hands contained a carton of ice cream. “Hi, Skylar, how was school?”
Usually when I came home, I found Mom napping or preoccupied with rearranging furniture. My school day and rumbling stomach never occupied her thoughts. “Fine,” I said, trying to sound as casual as she did.
“Vanilla or chocolate?”
I placed two bowls on the counter. “A little of both.”
She scooped from the chocolate. “Do you think black or stainless steel?”
“For what?”
“The new range and cooktop. I just can’t decide.” She pushed my bowl to me. “There you are.”
I looked into the bowl. “Can I have a scoop of vanilla too?”
“Oh. Sure.”
“Do we need a new range and cooktop?”
“I’m not going to pay all this money to redo the kitchen only to have an out-of-place appliance glaring at me.”
I didn’t say anything, just unloaded my backpack on the kitchen counter, where I normally studied. Eventually Mom sighed, as if no one understood her burdens, and carried her ice cream upstairs to eat before her afternoon nap. I ate mine slowly and stared at the pile of books I’d brought home. While none of my classes had formal midterm exams, most of my teachers scheduled a big test for the following week.
I’d barely cracked open my history book when the front door slammed shut, followed by Abbie shouting, “Skylar!”
I jumped at the sound and banged my knee against the counter. “Ouch!”
Abbie stomped into the kitchen. “What”—she threw her backpack to the floor—“is wrong with you?”
The pain in my knee vanished. “What are you talking about?”
“What possible reason could you have for telling Connor I’m pregnant?”
“I . . .” But I had nothing to say. She had me backed against a wall.
“That was not yours to tell.” Abbie moved toward me and I scrambled off my seat, not sure how physical this might get. Abbie’s temper had the nature of a tsunami—devastating large areas, indiscriminate of who felt the wrath.
I backed away from her. “I didn’t mean to tell him. He overheard me. I made him swear he wouldn’t say anything.”
“Well, he told Chris,” Abbie said as she closed in on me. “Did you notice how he’s been avoiding me since Sunday? Finally today I’d had enough. I began pressing him. It turns out Connor had a little talk with his brother, letting him know I was in a ‘delicate condition’ and not the best girl to date.”
“Shh,” I warned. “Mom’s upstairs.”
“I don’t care if Mom’s upstairs!” She came at me with swinging arms, desperate to hurt me in any way she could. “How could you tell the Rosses? You think people like them, so perfect, so together, understand messes like you and me?”
“Abbie, stop.” I grabbed her wrists and restrained her
as long as I could, but one arm broke free and she knocked me in the jaw.
“You’re so selfish,” Abbie somehow screamed and sobbed at the same time. “All you ever think about are your needs. Did you tell him just to get closer? So he would comfort you? So he’d know you occasionally care about things other than eye shadow and miniskirts?”
“Calm down. You’re not making any sense.”
“Well, we can’t all be as rational as you.” Abbie spat out “rational” like a cuss word. “Some of us actually feel things for other people. We can’t just bury our emotions.”
I crushed her wrists with my hands. “Maybe I can be too rational, but at least I’m not running around getting pregnant.”
A noise interrupted us. We looked to the doorway where Mom stood, her hair rumpled from sleep. “You’re pregnant?” she whispered.
Abbie nodded.
Mom’s face drained of color. She blinked rapidly, processing, and then she exploded.
Mom had many faults, but she’d never been a screamer. I froze as Mom yelled phrases like, “knew you were trouble,” and, “grounded for life.” Had she directed these comments at me, I’d have broken into tears and curled into a ball, but this was Abbie’s language.
“Well, maybe I would have told you sooner if I thought you’d be the least bit understanding!”
“Understanding! My fifteen-year-old daughter gets pregnant and I’m supposed to be understanding? You’re not supposed to be dating, let alone—”
“Are you aware of how stupid that rule is? All of my friends can date, and—”
“I made that rule for your safety so something like this wouldn’t happen.”
“You made that rule so you could control us.”
“It really doesn’t matter why I made the rule. The fact is that I’m your mother, and I can make any rule I want for any reason.”
Abbie responded, but I couldn’t hear what she said through the garage door as I fled the house.
Two minutes later, I turned onto the Rosses’ street. Connor and Chris were outside playing basketball, apparently having patched things up. Connor stopped dribbling as I pulled into their driveway. Both of them stared as I parked. My car jutted halfway into the road, but I didn’t care.
“Hey.” Connor spun the ball on his index finger. “You come to play a little b-ball?”
I glared at him. “Chris, would you give me a moment alone with your moron brother?”
Smart enough to recognize the short amount of time between his conversation with Abbie and my appearing at his house, Chris turned a shade paler. He looked to Connor, who nodded and tossed him the basketball.
Even when Chris disappeared through the front door, Connor and I only stared at each other.
“Go ahead,” he said, voice crisp. As if he had any right to be crisp with me.
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Then I’ll start. I had to tell him. If you’d learned the same thing about Chris, wouldn’t you have warned Abbie? Put yourself in my place.”
I stomped my foot. “No, you put yourself in my place. It’s bad enough I was forced to share it with you, but you said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I know I did, but—”
“I said, ‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ and you said, ‘I won’t.’”
“And believe me, Skylar, that was my intention—”
“Then I said, ‘Even Jodi,’ and you said, ‘I promise.’ I didn’t know I needed to list everyone you’re acquainted with and verify that they too were on that list.”
Connor hesitated. “When I made that promise, I didn’t know we were talking about a girl my brother would soon like.”
“It doesn’t matter. You promised!” Hot tears built behind my eyes. How could I explain this to him? He let me down. The one person I’d come to count on, the one person I could trust, and he’d let me down.
“Skylar.” Connor’s voice was soft, as if in pain on my behalf. “I didn’t like telling Chris about Abbie. I didn’t plan to, but after your party, he was talking about her in a way that . . . Well, I just couldn’t handle him believing it could work.”
“If Abbie wanted him to know, she would have told him. It wasn’t your place to get involved.”
Connor pushed a hand through his coarse hair and released a shaky breath. “Whether or not Abbie wanted him to know is irrelevant at this point. I hate to say that, but she’s over three months pregnant, Skylar. She needs to tell your parents. She needs to go to the doctor—”
“That’s not for you to decide!”
“It is when it involves my little brother.”
I looked at him, stumped. Clearly, I couldn’t change his feelings, and he couldn’t change mine. “Fine.” I fumbled for my car keys. “I can’t force you to acknowledge that you broke a promise and in the process turned my sister against me.”
“I’m sorry it has to be this way. I shouldn’t have made a promise on so little information.” Connor scuffed his shoe along the pavement. “That was my fault.”
I yanked open the door to my car, irritated that I was angrier now than when I’d arrived. “But you’re not sorry you told your brother?”
Connor shook his head. “I’d do it again.”
How could I have ever thought I might be in love with him? “Do you remember what you said to me at Sheridan’s? That I don’t really like Eli, just the idea of him?”
Connor nodded.
“When you told me why you broke up with Jodi, I thought, ‘This is a guy who’s different, a guy I can respect.’” Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t have much time before I collapsed. “I was wrong. I see now you’re just like every other guy I’ve known. I loved the idea of you, but not who you really are.”
Connor didn’t answer. He just stood there and watched me back out of the driveway.
I didn’t want to return home, I couldn’t trust my girlfriends to keep quiet, and now that I’d learned Connor couldn’t keep a secret, that left me Eli.
He answered the door with a confused look. “What are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth to explain but instead burst into tears.
“Skylar, what’s wrong?” Eli opened his arms to me and I fell against him.
“I love you,” I sobbed.
He’d kept my secret all these months, and he was here now when nobody else was. Did I need any more of a reason?
16
I didn’t return home until a few hours later, when I could be sure the screaming had stopped. Still, I pressed my ear against the door before opening it.
“I’m home,” I said to the eerie silence. “Hello? Abbie? Mom?”
No one answered. I paused there in the doorway, awaiting sound of any kind. I’d nearly given up when I heard shuffling upstairs.
I moved to the base of the staircase. “Hello?”
The sound stopped. “Skylar?” Mom answered.
I started up the stairs. “I don’t know if you tried to call. I accidentally left my purse here. It’s a good thing I didn’t get pulled over, because—” As I stood in her doorway, whatever I’d been saying slipped from my memory. “What are you doing?”
She didn’t look at me, just continued her task. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Understand what?” I tried to say, but the words caught in the lump in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “Understand what?”
Mom ignored me and pushed a final stack of clothes into her suitcase. The big one. The one she bought for two weeks in Europe with my aunt.
“Mom?”
“I can’t do this anymore.” She looked up, but instead of meeting my eyes, her gaze went beyond me, as if she was already gone. She zipped her suitcase and stood it upright.
“You can’t do what anymore?” I asked as she wheeled it passed me. “What do you mean?”
“It means I need some time.” She started down the stairs, the suitcase clunking behind her. “I’ve never been the type who had to be perfect at every
thing. I long ago resigned myself to being a lousy cook, a lousy mother—”
“You’re not a lousy mother.” But hadn’t I been thinking the same thing only a few short weeks ago?
“I am,” she said. “I never knew what to do with you girls. Paul kept saying lots of women weren’t natural mothers, that I would grow into it, but that never happened. So I thought, ‘Okay, I won’t be a great mother, but I can at least keep them safe. Keep them from making the mistakes I made.’ And it turns out I can’t even manage that.”
I trotted alongside her now that we’d reached the main floor. “Abbie getting pregnant is not your fault. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine. I’m the one who drove her to Lance’s all those months. I knew what was going on, but still I did it.”
Mom opened the garage door. “If you need me, call my cell.”
“I need you,” I said. She kept going. “Mom, I need you.” I squawked it over and over, like a six-year-old. “I need you. I need you.” But still she backed out of the driveway and left me there.
“Can I talk to Abbie?” I asked when Jenna answered her phone.
“She’s not here.”
I ran my free hand through my hair. I’d done that so many times in the last few hours, grease now slicked my hair. “I know she’s there. Put her on the phone.”
“Who’s this? Skylar?”
“There’s no use covering for her. I’ll just come over.”
“I’m serious, she isn’t here.”
I hesitated. “If you’re lying to me, Jenna . . .”
“I’m not.”
I chewed on my lower lip a moment. She sounded truthful. “Have you talked to her?”
“Not since I dropped her off,” Jenna said. “What’s this about?”
My throat ached from holding in emotion, and I could feel my left eye throbbing. I reached for Eli’s hand and wove my fingers through his.
“Skylar?” Jenna asked.
I mustered up the strength to speak without crying. “If you talk to her, will you ask her to call me?”
“What’s going on?”
I hung up.
Eli gazed at me. “No luck?”
I shook my head. “And that was my best guess too. Abbie always runs to Jenna’s when she’s in trouble.”
Me, Just Different Page 13