“You can’t go to Hawaii.”
“I . . .” Abbie swallowed. “I have to go.”
“No you don’t.”
“But my mom—”
“Your mom will be fine.”
“But Lance and everyone here—”
“That’s why you want to go?” Chris said. “To get away from Lance and anyone who might disapprove?”
“I guess.” Abbie fussed with her necklace. “It just sounds good, you know? Getting away.”
“Leaving won’t solve anything,” I said. How hypocritical. As if I hadn’t been fantasizing about running off to Hawaii as well.
“Mom’ll be really mad if I back out.” Abbie offered Chris a sweet smile, her eyelashes fluttering, and adjusted his boutonniere with her free hand.
I knew then Abbie would stay.
“How cute are they?”
Connor followed my gaze to the gymnasium bleachers, where Chris and Abbie sat. She had her legs tossed onto his lap, and he smiled at her like she was a prize of some sort. It made me want to squeeze him with gratefulness.
“Looks like things will work out well for them.”
I beamed and rewarded his words with a kiss. “And for us.”
Connor spun me away from him, then yanked me back close. This appeared to be his signature dance move. He’d already done it about four times and seemed to thrive on surprising me. “You did much better that time. No stumbling.”
“I’d like to see you stay on your feet in three-inch heels.”
His nose wrinkled. “No thank you.”
I smiled as he drew me against him.
The dance had been going for about an hour. Lance brought that trampy gossip Marie Green, but Abbie hadn’t seemed to notice. I’d seen Madison dancing happily enough with a guy she’d invited from her work. As for the Lisa-John-Alexis triangle, Lisa had danced at least once with John, but I’d also seen her chatting up one of the German foreign exchange students.
“Uh-oh. Incoming,” Connor muttered into my ear.
I barely had time to say, “What?” when I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Eli standing there.
“Hey, guys. How’s it going?” He grinned at me, his white teeth gleaming. “We’re starting the after party a little early out at John’s. You two wanna come?”
“No thanks.” Connor gripped me tighter. Or maybe his fingers just adjusted, I couldn’t be sure.
“Suit yourselves.” Eli winked at me. “Lookin’ good, Skylar.”
He swaggered away, maybe already a little drunk.
Connor rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with him? Saying that kind of stuff right in front of me?”
Unlike Jodi, who had the class to say it when I was gone?
But I bit the words back. Tonight things had felt normal between us, and it was oh so nice.
“At least they’re all leaving.” I nodded toward the door where Eli helped Jodi into her coat. She laughed at something he said.
“She’s going with them?” Connor groaned. “I thought she’d given all that up.”
I didn’t know what to say. I felt a little proud to be proven right, though I wished I didn’t.
As if sensing this, Connor smiled at me, gentle and appreciative. “I guess you’re not surprised.”
“But maybe you planted some seeds with her.” I snuggled closer. “Her going out tonight doesn’t mean it’s all lost.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He continued to look doubtful.
I grabbed his hand and spun him away from me, then pulled him back in. Connor stumbled, and we knocked into another couple, both of us laughing so hard we could barely apologize.
“Nice move, Hoyt.” He matched his forehead to mine, and when he looked in my eyes, I knew Hawaii couldn’t offer a thing that came close to this.
20
“Skylar, the baby’s coming.”
I jolted out of sleep to find Abbie perched on the edge of my bed, one hand clutching her belly. In her braided pigtails and cartoon pj’s, she looked even more like a kid. Her voice wobbled as she said, “I’m having contractions.”
“Have you been timing them? The book says they should be four minutes apart.” I thanked God that I’d read that part the day before.
“I want to go to the hospital.”
I looked at the clock—2:42. I’d been asleep for maybe an hour. My brain had been too abuzz with thoughts of the dance for me to doze off.
I flipped on my bedside lamp. “Where’s the pregnancy book?”
“I don’t know.” Abbie shielded her eyes. “Who cares about the book? Let’s just go.”
I spotted it on my desk and threw back the covers. “Take deep breaths or lie down or something.”
“I want to go to the hospital.”
“I know,” I said, maybe a little sharper than necessary. “But lie down, okay? I want to see what else the book says. We don’t want to go to the hospital if we don’t need to.”
“We need to. The baby’s coming.” But she curled up under my blankets. “Skylar, I don’t have a name.”
“You’ll come up with one.”
“We don’t have a crib. Or diapers. Or clothes.”
“Yes we do.”
“We do?”
“In the guest bedroom. Everything’s still in the packaging, but it’s in there.”
“You did that for me?” Abbie asked through a yawn.
“Quiet, I’m trying to read.” I scanned the page. “Okay, you’re supposed to have contractions every four minutes, lasting for a minute or longer, for one hour. Then we go to the hospital.”
“When does my water break?”
“When does my “It doesn’t say.”
Another yawn. “Did you buy a car seat? We have to have one to bring her home.”
“The safest one they make.”
“Okay, good.” Long pause. I thought she’d dozed off, but then she said, “She needs a name.”
“She’ll have one. Just relax.”
“I want to go to the hospital.”
By now I’d stopped looking through the book. I just sat there watching her. Sure enough, within a couple minutes, Abbie’s breathing deepened as she dozed off.
I tugged on slippers and relocated to the living room. Unlike my last three a.m. trek downstairs, I found the place dark and isolated. Using the moonlight and my memory, I groped my way to the couch and collapsed. My heart still thundered from Abbie’s words—“The baby’s coming.”
What a terrifying sentence.
I didn’t know how to change a diaper, calm a fussy baby, give a bath, use the car seat . . . and the list went on and on. Yet why should I be scared? She wasn’t my baby. Abbie would be doing all those things.
I remembered standing in Babies R Us, overwhelmed by the choices of cribs and car seats and strollers. Where’d Abbie been while I agonized over these decisions? Seeing a movie with her friends? Parked in front of the TV? Doing anything and everything to avoid thinking that she had no idea what her life looked like after March 10?
A new thought chilled me—what did my life look like after March 10?
I’d offered to help, but we’d never defined what that meant. Running to the store for diapers? Watching her while Abbie went to school? Midnight feedings?
My head throbbed with the possibilities of what this baby meant for me. It wasn’t fair. I’d been good. I’d abstained. Why should I have to deal with Abbie’s consequences? All I wanted to do this summer was lounge by the pool with Connor. Maybe eat some ice cream. But could I ever feel good about leaving the house, about continuing with my life, while the baby had Abbie chained at home? With Mom in Hawaii and Dad working, she’d really only have me.
I buried my face in the scratchy throw pillow. It was too late—or too early—for these kinds of thoughts. I should think about Connor instead, about the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d kissed me good night. With that happy thought, I snuggled into the couch as best I could and fell asleep.
The black-a
nd-white bathing suit.
I’m in a house, a little house. It’s Grammy and Papa’s, but they’re nowhere around. It’s just me here in the paneled living room. The doors and windows are all open, allowing in the salty breeze, the sounds of rustling foliage. I want to go outside but can’t move. That stuff I bought at Babies R Us for Abbie—the bathtub, the cloth diapers, everything—is scattered at my feet. But Abbie and the baby aren’t here. They’re back in Kansas. Nothing around me says it, it’s just one of those things I know.
Mom walks into the room and surveys all the baby junk. “Look at this mess you made, Skylar. Clean this up.”
Look at this mess you made, Skylar. Clean this I look around. “I don’t know where to start.”
She opens her mouth and says . . .
“Something wrong with your bed upstairs?”
I cracked open my eyelids to find Mom standing in front of the couch. She appeared to have slept much better than me. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose but mess-free ponytail, and her expensive cotton jammies were wrinkle-free.
“Abbie’s in it.” I stretched. “She freaked out that the baby was coming, said she was having contractions, but then she fell asleep.”
“Mmm, Braxton Hicks.” Mom sipped at her coffee. “I had those all the time with you.”
“What are they?”
“Braxton Hicks contractions. They’re like mini contractions getting your body ready for labor.” Mom took a seat in the wingback chair. “Hard to believe there’s going to be a baby around.”
I sat up and finger-combed my hair into the best ponytail I could. I always felt uncomfortable around Mom if I hadn’t groomed myself.
She looked at me with big, round eyes. “I so wish you’d come to Kapaa with us, Sky-baby.”
Tears blinded me. Mom hadn’t called me that for years. It reminded me of the little house, back when Mom giggled with Abbie and me and seemed to delight in us. Could it ever be like that again, or was it time to cut my losses with Mom?
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
Her face brightened ever so slightly. “Have you been thinking about it?”
I nodded. “I have these dreams . . .”
But did the dreams mean I was supposed to be in Hawaii or that it would be a disaster? Or did they mean anything at all? Were they just a result of me dwelling on Hawaii?
“I think it’d be good for you to get away from all this.” Mom fluttered her hand, as if to indicate this house, this life. As if it wasn’t something she’d helped create. “Try it just for the summer. You can always come back.”
I wound the drawstring of my pants around my finger, then unwound it. I thought of last night at the dance, Connor spinning me away and pulling me close. “I might come for a week or two, but no more than that. Connor . . .”
I couldn’t finish. I knew Mom would think me stupid for imagining myself in love at this age. Maybe I was stupid, though I couldn’t shake this feeling that ultimately Connor was who I’d be with. But marriage was a long way off. What about the in-between time?
“Connor is nobody to base your life plans on,” Mom said. “I know you care about him a great deal, but don’t let him hold you back. Don’t give up anything for him.”
Could I trust Mom, or did she speak from that angry place inside of her, the place that said she’d given up her life for my father and he’d cheated on her?
I’d spent enough time at the Ross house to see everything Amy gave up. Surely she’d rather do stuff besides cook and fold laundry, but she did it for Brian, for her kids. She saw it as a worthy sacrifice. But would she still think so if Brian up and left her?
If it weren’t for Connor, I’d have hopped at the chance to go to Hawaii. If I truly loved him, like I knew I did, was the experience an acceptable thing to give up? I didn’t know. “Let’s just say I’m still thinking about it,” I said to Mom in a crisp, end-of-discussion kind of voice.
She tuned the TV in to a political show. I went upstairs to boot Abbie out of my room and get dressed for church.
21
“I have to tell you something.” Lisa had a skittish look about her, like a puppy who’d peed on the rug.
I sighed and closed my locker door. “Did you get back together with John?”
She looked me in the eye. “No! I told you it was over with him.”
“You’ve said that before.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I’m changing. I told you.”
“Who isn’t these days?” I said, then grimaced. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Lisa to change. Or Jodi. I just didn’t want her grabbing onto my boyfriend in the process.
“That’s kinda what I need to talk to you about.” Lisa glanced around the emptying hallway. The bell could ring any second, but I had study hall and didn’t care. Whatever class Lisa had next, she didn’t seem in any hurry to get there. Or to get to her point.
I hitched my bag up on my shoulder. “Where are you headed? I’ll walk with you.”
“I think it’d be best to do this somewhere hidden,” Lisa said. “Certain people might see.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Certain people whose names begin with J and A? Why do you care what they think?”
Lisa’s jaw clenched. “You know, maybe I don’t have anything to say after all. Maybe I just imagined Jodi leaving the party Saturday night with Connor.”
“What do you mean?”
My mind ticked through Saturday night’s events. We’d stayed until the end of the dance—a first for Abbie and me. Connor and Chris took us home. Abbie fell asleep in the car. Connor kissed me good night. I lugged Abbie upstairs. I looked at the clock as I fell into bed—12:14.
Lisa gave me a wary look. “Will you stop being a snot?” I swallowed the nasty response waiting on the end of my tongue. “Yes.”
“Here’s what I know.” Lisa dropped her voice, as if the lockers might be bugged. “Jodi was wasted. I mean, toilet-hugging drunk. She made a phone call, and ten minutes later I saw Connor helping her out of the party. They sat in his car for, like, fifteen minutes, and then he drove off.”
She evaluated me, as if expecting a barrage of questions. I could barely process this information, much less think of a response.
“I don’t know who all saw,” Lisa continued. “I know Eli didn’t. He was upstairs with some trampy girl when Jodi called Connor.”
“I don’t think it means anything.” I tried to sound sure of this. To not think about yesterday at church. Or our phone conversation yesterday afternoon. Or this morning when he brought Abbie and me to school. All those opportunities to tell me.
Lisa shrugged. “Maybe not.” But I could tell she doubted.
“I’m sure he was just giving her a ride home. She probably didn’t have anyone else to call.”
“I’m sure that’s all it was.”
But those fifteen minutes that she’d seen them sitting in the car . . .
“And how much had you been drinking? Maybe it seemed like they sat out there for a long time, but they really didn’t.”
“I only had a beer or two. And I’m pretty sure I looked at the clock. But . . .” She shrugged again. “Maybe it really was just a couple minutes.”
“Or maybe it was longer, but it’s because Jodi threw up or something.”
“Certainly wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Certainly wouldn’t “And maybe—”
“Maybe there’s someone else you should be talking to.” Lisa gave me a pointed look. “He will actually have answers.”
I forced myself to think about Connor, about what his answers might be. Giving Jodi a ride home, I could rationalize. Him not telling me, I couldn’t. That meant something, didn’t it?
“You’re right,” I said to Lisa. I took a couple steps back, toward Connor’s English class. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Good luck,” she called after me.
Halfway to Connor’s class, the tears came and couldn’t be stopped. I ducked into a bathroom, grateful to
find it vacant. As I bawled on the dingy bathroom floor, I tallied my losses.
Since putting my life back in God’s hands, Abbie had gotten pregnant, my parents’ marriage teetered on the edge of failure, I’d lost all my friends and my first boyfriend, and I was about to lose my second.
Maybe it wasn’t right to blame God. Maybe it would’ve happened anyway, and he was the only reason for my survival.
“Do you have answers?” I asked. “Can you fix this? Hawaii, Connor, my ready-to-pop sister?”
Like my dad, I’d never been good at praying. I had a rough time converting my thoughts into words. The same trouble I had with people. But luckily, unlike people, God was bigger than my loss for words.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Because I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know.”
I once thought I’d had it all figured out. But now I knew I didn’t. With a certainty I’d never before felt, I knew I was clueless. Should I stay with Connor? Was this a losing battle with him and Jodi? Should my parents stay together? Should I go to Hawaii? I didn’t know any of it.
“I just want whatever’s best,” I whispered. “I just want you to take all these decisions and make them for me.”
He didn’t seem to be answering. Should I be able to hear him? Did it mean I’d prayed wrong if I didn’t feel peaceful or have clear direction?
I heard voices approaching the bathroom and scurried off the floor.
I didn’t make eye contact with either of the entering girls, couldn’t have described anything about them other than their poor taste in shoes.
But they knew me.
“Can you believe the administration’s still letting her sister come to school?” one said to the other as the door swung closed. “She’s so pregnant, it’s gross.”
“I bet her dad paid them off,” the second girl said.
Their words burned, as did the surge of fresh tears. The old me would’ve marched back into that bathroom and given those girls a piece of my mind. The old me would’ve defended Abbie, even if we weren’t that close.
For the first time, I liked the old Skylar much better. The new one just hung her head and slunk away.
Just how long did Connor plan on waiting before telling me about Jodi? Surely he knew it couldn’t be kept a secret. Even if he and Jodi swore to take it to the grave, wouldn’t he suspect someone might have seen him hauling her drunk butt out of John’s house?
Out with the In Crowd Page 15