by Amelia Gates
I smiled at her, but half of my attention was on the stairs. What was taking Daisy so long? She never primped before breakfast unless she had to be somewhere important right after, and as far as I knew, she had nowhere to be that day. Just as I was going to shout up at her again, I heard her on the stairs.
“What are your plans today?” Sandy asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to decide,” I said. “I finished the table I was building. The creation video is edited, and as soon as I post it I’ll put the table up for auction. Now I need a new project. Usually inspiration just sort of strikes, but I’ve got nothing.”
Daisy sidled up behind me and draped her arms around my shoulders. “I have an idea,” she said. “How about a cradle?”
I frowned, considering, then shook my head. “Not without a personal commission. People who spend that kind of money on baby beds usually want them customized. I saw someone carve a set of bowls out of colored pencils. I could do something like that, I guess, but the other guy’s video is still pretty new. Wouldn’t want to be accused of ripping him off.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good,” Daisy said, but there was a bubble of laughter in her voice. She sat down beside me and piled her own plate with food. “Oh, how about a play yard? A little one for little babies with an umbrella over the top and netting around the bottom so they can be outside even if they can’t roll over yet?”
I shook my head. “People can buy stuff like that off the shelf. It’s a little too functional. I like the outdoor angle, though. Maybe a garden box that’s also a sun catcher?”
I slowly tuned in to the fact that Daisy and Sandy were having a conversation with their eyes. I started to get the feeling that they were amused at my expense, but I assumed it was just because I was having so much trouble deciding.
“Maybe a high chair,” Daisy said. “A really intricate one with dolphins carved into it, maybe?”
Sandy snorted into her coffee and her eyes twinkled.
“A high chair—like for a baby?” I clarified.
“Mm-hm. Oh, or a playpen! Or a pair of playpens, one for inside and one for outside.”
“Um…”
“Oh! Better yet, a changing table. A really good changing table, with shelves and things to organize all the baby stuff so everything’s right there in reach.”
My heart was beating fast and my mind was working in slow motion. “A cradle, a crib, a playpen—”
“Two playpens.”
“—a high chair, a changing table—Daisy? Is there something you want to tell me?”
A bright grin spread across her face as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. It was wrapped around something. I thought I knew what it was, but my mind refused to jump to conclusions. She laid it on the table and unfolded it carefully. I stared. Two dark pink lines stared back at me.
“We’re going to have a baby,” she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “Congratulations, daddy.”
I sat, stunned into silence for nearly a minute. Daisy and her mother exchanged a worried glance half a second before I exploded with excitement. “A baby! You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” she said, laughing with relief. “Is that okay?”
“Okay? It’s amazing!” I leapt from my chair and scooped her up out of hers, spinning her in my arms and kissing all over her face. A spike of fear ripped through me and I put her down gently, backing away and patting her tummy gently. “Oh, god did I hurt you? Did I squish it?”
Daisy and her mother burst out laughing, and Daisy held my head and cradled it against her chest while she wiped mirthful tears away. “You didn’t hurt me, babe. And you didn’t squish it. I’m not that fragile, my love.”
I kissed her neck and collar bone and belly, overwhelmed with joy. “Good,” I said. “Good.”
“I figure the baby will be due sometime in March or April,” she said. “Which means I’ll be able to carry him—or her—across the stage with me when I graduate.”
I hugged her tight. “That’s a fantastic idea. So you are going to finish school?”
“Of course,” she said, and kissed my face. “With you and mom here to help me there’s no reason why I can’t, right?”
“Of course not,” Sandy said, glowing. “We’ve got you covered, Daisy. We’ll all do this together, right Kash?”
“Right,” I said. I kissed Daisy’s forehead, swaying gently with her, dancing to the music of the dolphins. “We’ll do it together.”
I started building the cradle that day. It was the first piece in a whole set of dolphin-themed baby furniture. My followers caught on a lot sooner than I had, and by the time Daisy was three months pregnant there were entire threads dedicated to pressuring me to make the official announcement. Eventually I caved. Daisy happily joined me on my most popular video—the official baby announcement.
After Daisy’s five-month appointment, she joined me in my wood shop to help me put the final touch on the cradle. On the carved banner suspended between two dancing dolphins, she put her hands on mine to carve the baby’s name. Hunter.
“I want a water birth,” she said when we’d finished.
“With dolphin sounds playing?” I asked.
She nodded. “It seems like the thing to do.”
I put my face against her swollen belly and wrapped my arms around her waist. “What do you think, Hunter? Water and dolphins?”
The baby moved. It was the first time I’d felt it and I jumped back, gazing up at Daisy in awe.
“I think that’s a yes,” she said with a laugh.
“Definitely a yes,” I said.
As the sun went down over the sea, dolphins sang and laughed. I held my wonderfully pregnant wife in my arms and kissed her, basking in the joy which seemed to permeate every moment of my life and fiber of my being. Finally, after everything we’d been through, after all the crap we’d survived—finally, we were right where we were supposed to be.
We couldn’t have done it without Hunter. I placed my hand on Daisy’s belly, feeling the baby dance around to the dolphin sounds below. In name and spirit, Hunter was here now. I couldn’t think of a better tribute to his memory than exactly the life we were living.
I knelt down to speak to Daisy’s belly. “Welcome to the family, little Hunter. I think you’re going to like it here.”
He kicked me in the face. I took it as agreement.
Itching for another hot read?
READ TRINITY HIGH
ELLY
This isn’t what I thought I’d be coming back to after summer camp.
Granted, the sun is out. It could be a lot worse. As soon as I get off the school bus, I stop on the sidewalk just to look at it. My new school. Who the hell uproots her daughter right before her senior year and plops her in a new and potentially dangerous environment? A freshly divorced mother, that’s who.
I resent her for it. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive her, or dad, for that matter. They didn’t tell me anything. I knew they were having trouble… I’m not blind. But they could’ve stuck it out for another year. Why do I have to pay for their mistakes?
Mom moved out and grabbed me along for “a new adventure,” as she likes to call it. I’m two towns over from all my friends and the people I actually care about.
The high school looks decent. Typical suburb establishment, with clean walls and preppy looking kids moving in herds before the first bell. They’re all giving me nasty looks—the kind that say - “You’re not supposed to be here, scab.” I can feel it in my bones, it’s not going to be a pleasant experience.
I’ve got my backpack on one shoulder, my hand gripping the padded strap a little tighter than usual. I’m nervous. Why shouldn’t I be? I’m on foreign, clearly hostile territory. I’m eighteen and not financially independent enough to be on my own, though it’s exactly what I’d like to do right now. Mom thinks I’ll be fine. Dad hasn’t called since he picked me up from summer camp. Fun fact: shortly after he dropped me off at home, he and mom sat
me down and told me they were getting a divorce. The selfish bastards…
Sometimes, it’s really hard to love them. Not because I don’t want to, but because they just make everything so difficult. My stomach tightens and I fight the urge to bring my hand down to comfort it. I skipped breakfast this morning, loading up on coffee, instead. I’m not really rebelling. I just wasn’t happy enough with mom to spin around in a bar stool and pretend that everything’s okay while biting into a piece of toast. I’m starting to regret not eating. My stomach rumbles again. Shit, I’d kill for a waffle, right now.
The other kids keep giving me weary glances. Maybe there’s a “Stranger Danger” sign on my forehead? I run my fingers through my hair, thankful that it’s long and red enough to distract from the dark half-moons under my eyes. The depth of the circles are proof that I need a better concealer. I suck in a deep breath and tilt my head back up to the crowd before me.
“What the hell are they staring at?” I mutter to myself, glancing down. I’ve got short jeans, white Vans, a pale-yellow tank top and my washed-up denim vest. It may be September already, but it’s still August-hot. From what I can tell, I’m not outside Trinity High’s fashion norms. Plenty of skimpy summer dresses and spaghetti straps around, from the juniors to the seniors. What makes me so different?
I’m the new girl. I think that’s the deal with these middle-class specimens. Like tigers, they smell new blood. If I’m not careful, if I let my guard down, they’ll pounce. I know they will. Teenagers can be mean, not to mention the seniors, who prefer to call themselves “young adults” these days. Doesn’t really get a lot more pretentious than that, does it?
My phone rings and I briefly check the time. Fifteen minutes until the first class. Brenda’s calling me. I miss her so damn much…
“What’s up, Dougie?” I answer, lowering my voice.
She mimics me to perfection. “What’cha’ doin’, sweet cheeks?”
We both laugh. I love hearing her voice. It’s the most I can get from Brenda, these days. We’re fifty miles apart, but those fifty miles feel a heck of a lot like five hundred. Her parents are always busy, my mom won’t lend me the Mini Cooper to visit Brenda back in my hometown… So, we’re left with FaceTime and phone calls.
“You in school yet?” she asks. I can hear noise in the background. Hell, I can almost see Tracy and Uma sauntering over to her, lattes in one hand, bear claws in the other. Our morning routine.
I let a deep sigh roll out of my chest. “I’m about to go in. This new school has got some Cruel Intention vibes, I tell ya’!”
“You mean, hot guys and three-way innuendos every fifteen minutes?” Brenda giggles. She’s being nice. Trying to make light of what I know she fully understands is a shitty fucking situation.
I roll my eyes and let out a deep sigh. “No, more like sassy beauty queens throwing daggers with their eyes,” I say. “And they’re looking straight at me. It’s creepy. It’s like they’re planning to murder me the moment I’m alone.”
Brenda gasps. It’s one of her fake, overly dramatic gasps, meant to make me laugh. “Oh, my god, stay away from the bathroom, you hear me?! Stay. Away. From the bathroom!”
I chuckle softly, a little sorry I can’t give her a heartier laugh. But there are three gorgeous senior chicks eyeing me like I’ve just stolen their quinoa salads. I’m not the aggressive type but I don’t back down, either. My physique might not be in any way intimidating, yet I can still throw a punch and hit something. The apparent leader of the pack throws me a glossy smirk as she goes through the main door, joined by her sidekicks. Their cheerleading uniforms give anyone at the bottom of the stairs a good view of their round, perfectly toned rumps.
“Just wanted to check on you,” Brenda says. I almost forget I’m on the phone with her, my eyes wandering across the front of the building, all the way into the attached parking lot. “How are you feeling?”
“As good as I can,” I reply. “Just one year, and then I’m off to college.”
“Ugh, your mom’s gonna cry…”
“Like I give a crap. I mean, she didn’t notice my tears when she moved me all the way here, in Douchebag-Central.”
I can almost see Brenda nodding slowly. “Yeah, she could’ve kept you here for another year at least. But it’s done now, Elly… You know, you can’t change it. You can only keep going. Forward, ever forward.”
“Stop quoting Coach Lee and get your ass in school!” I laugh.
“I’ll talk to you later, babe. Remember, if Trinity’s too crummy or sleazy for you, carry a billiard ball in a sock with you, at all times,” Brenda says, then hangs up.
I can’t help but smile. Two minutes with her on the phone, and I’m already feeling better. She’s right, though. I can’t change what happened. My parents’ marriage didn’t work out. They didn’t think about me when they reached their decision, so… here I am, starting over in a new town, where I don’t know anyone. It sucks, but I’ve got a feeling life is going to be a lot like this. Lots of curve balls headed toward me. I just can’t see them yet.
My attention is drawn away from my problems by roaring laughter. I find its source, legs hanging out the back of a Range Rover in the parking lot. That voice sounds familiar. It causes a painful pang in my chest, like a rubber band suddenly snapping.
“Pass me the bottle, Rhett!” he says, as authoritarian as ever.
Oh, dear…
It’s them. The Hotshots. I call them The Hotshots because there really isn’t a better word for them. I used to joke about them being joined at the hip, back in summer camp. Kellan and Rhett Flanagan, the troublemaking brothers - fraternal twins whose only similarity is how damn irresistibly hot they both are. And Gage O’Donnell, their best friend. We went to the same place this summer—a sprawling complex about fifty miles from both Trinity and my hometown, up north. Several high schools organize these trips every year. I met The Hotshots there, back in late June. They didn’t tell me they were enrolled at Trinity High.
Then again, we didn’t talk about school much.
My heart starts pumping a little faster. I catch a glimpse of Rhett as he twists himself from the passenger seat to hand a bottle to Kellan. They’re drinking. Gage is behind the wheel, the engine turned off. A cigarette hangs loosely from between his lips. I thought he’d quit. This feels off, somehow.
Girls are buzzing around the Range Rover, laughing and touching Rhett through the open window. They want him. It’s not hard to see why. He’s the heartbreaker out of The Hotshots. Tall, dark and handsome. His hair is black and messy, with the occasional curls streaking across his forehead. His eyes are emerald knives that cut through everything they see. His lips… well, they’re the epitome of wet, delicious softness. The girls like him because he towers over most of the guys his age. Those broad shoulders get me tingly.
“You’ve had enough,” Rhett says to Kellan, his hand out, asking for the bottle back. I recognize the amber liquid dancing inside as it reaches Rhett again. Whiskey. Probably a single malt. Their good tastes extend beyond summer camp, apparently.
Gage grins and snatches the bottle, taking a swig before Rhett grabs it, cursing under his breath.
“I’m not technically driving right now!” Gage replies.
Looking at them now, I realize how different they are from one another, yet how much alike. Kellan is the bulky brother, with a solid muscle mass. He’s not a thick-neck type, but he looks like he could lift that Range Rover from the back on a dare. But what really draws me to him is his personality. He’s all sweet and mushy on the inside. The memory of us in the woods springs to mind, and I know I’m going to get all wet in a second. He was my first. To this date, my only, as well, and I’ve not heard from him in two whole weeks.
It should offend me. But then I see Gage again, and that broad, boyish smile of his, and I almost forget that neither of them had said a word since we left summer camp. It’s not like we weren’t friends. They promised we’d be in touch. Even so, I’m re
lieved to see them here. They’re a pleasant surprise. A sight for sore eyes, even.
It’s been a rough couple of weeks. The moving, the divorce… it all happened so quickly. I need to tell them about it. There’s still some whiskey left in that bottle. Maybe I can skip my first class and start out with a bang.
My instinct tells me to go inside, but my legs won’t listen. My knees are weak, but the rest of my body still works as it carries me across the mowed lawn and into the parking lot. The smell of freshly cut grass fills my nostrils, mingled with cigarette smoke and alcohol vapors. It reminds me of summer camp and how close the four of us were. There was a connection between us—not just physical, we all knew it.
Mom used to tell me that there’s a name for girls who mess around with more than just the one guy, but I still can’t accept that premise. Things were different with Kellan, Rhett, and Gage. It took me a while to find the right word for it… synergy. As I walk over to them, I can almost feel it. The butterflies wrestling in the pit of my stomach. My breath cut short. My skin tingling all over. What we had was unique.
So, why haven’t they reached out, like they said they would? Maybe I’ll find out now. My instinct is practically screaming at me to turn left and head inside. Run really damn far away. But I can’t help myself. I’m drawn to them, in an inexplicable manner. Like a moth to a flame. Nothing good ever happens to the moth. Maybe remembering that is worth something. But forgetting it is so damn easy right now.
The girls are the ones to see me first. They look like sophomores, their faces padded with a smidgen too much make-up. They instantly recognize me as some type of enemy, because their eyes turn into slits and their smiles to scowls.