The Queen B* and the Homecoming King

by Crista McHugh

  When she didn’t answer right away, the apology kept tumbling from my guilty soul. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I’m just—I mean—this is totally unexpected. I’m a senior in high school, and you’re my mom, and this is…”

  “A bit of a curveball?” she supplied.

  “More like an ‘oh my fucking God’ moment.” I finally lifted my gaze to discover a bemused smile playing upon her lips. “I mean, seriously, Mom, you’re having another kid. At your age. I thought you’d be anxiously awaiting the day Taylor and I would both be gone to college and you’d have the place to yourself, not be starting all over again. I mean, you’ll be the same age as most grandparents are when this kid graduates from high school.”

  “You think that hasn’t crossed my mind? You don’t think I’m scared shitless about it all?” She set her mug down with a sigh, her frustration seeming to vanish with the exhalation, and stretched her legs out. The calm, no-nonsense mom I’d always known settled back into place. “But I’ve had a few days to come to terms with it all, and I’m finally at peace with it.”

  “Why? Because Pete offered to marry you instead of running away screaming when you dropped the bomb on him?”

  She actually chuckled at that, further confirming that pregnancy hormones must’ve caused some kind of personality transplant in my mom.

  “I wasn’t too worried about that. Pete and I were already talking about getting married next summer after you graduated. This just bumped up our plans a little.”

  She was so Zen about it all, I was tempted to sniff her coffee to see if she had added a shot of Bailey’s. “So he’s cool with having a baby at his age?”

  “He’s over the moon about it.” Her gaze flickered to where Pete paced inside the kitchen, his phone to his ear. When she brought it back to me, her happy façade began to crack. “To be honest, I’m the one having the hardest time with it all.”

  Tears crept into her voice and triggered the sting in my own eyes. I blinked back the wetness that threatened to spill over and noticed my mom doing the same thing. Great—my mom and I were so in sync that we could start crying at the same moment.

  “You bought up some valid points, Alexis,” she continued matter-of-factly, even though the way her words shook betrayed her lack of confidence. “I am older, and the chances of me having a healthy baby at term are much lower than someone twenty years younger. And I did act irresponsibly, but only because I didn’t believe I could get pregnant at my age from one spur of the moment act, especially since I was already starting to have signs of menopause. And I was terrified Pete would act the way you imagined when I told him the news. But I was wrong.”

  The first tear slipped out from her right eye, and I doubled my efforts not to do the same.

  “After talking with him, I’m actually kind of looking forward to this pregnancy.”

  That was a bombshell I wasn’t prepared for. “What?”

  She laughed even as more tears streamed down her face. “Pete’s never been married, never had kids, even though he’s always wanted some. He was ready to take on the role of stepdad for you girls, but since you’re both in high school already, he’d be missing out on so many of the things he wanted to experience. So even though I’m scared and embarrassed and slightly freaked out about becoming a mom again at forty-five, I’m willing to do it for him.”

  “You know, you don’t have to,” I mentioned in a last-ditch effort to maintain my hard, critical shell and not fall into this emotional feel-good roller coaster my mom was already on.

  “I know, but I want to.” She glanced back at Pete, and that sappy smile returned. “When you love someone, you’re willing to make compromises, even though it’s not always what you have planned. And once I saw the joy on his face when I gave him the news, I knew I could do this.” Her grin widened as she added, “And now I’m as excited as he is about the baby.”

  I had no idea when the dam had finally broken, but I had my own set of tears coursing down my cheeks by the time she finished. Maybe there was more to their relationship than I’d first thought. Maybe they did love each other. And maybe—just maybe—I shouldn’t have judged their relationship so harshly. Pete made Mom happy, even when life threw these unexpected surprises her way.

  She finally turned her attention back to me, and the lovesick woman vanished, leaving behind the worried mom. She swiped her hands over her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m so hormonal from this whole pregnancy thing, I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Hello? Teenage girl here. I have that whole hormonal thing down to an art.”

  Mom laughed again and wiped away a few of my tears before pulling me into a hug. “I know this might not be the best timing, Alexis, but please give it a chance.”

  I glanced out of the corner of my eye to where Pete stood in the doorway and waited for the familiar sense of upheaval that always accompanied his presence. It was still there. He was still a threat to my orderly existence, but the wariness I’d once held for him had been squeezed out by my mom’s confession. He made her happy, and I suppose—for her sake—I could go along for the ride.

  The beeping from my phone interrupted our bonding moment, and I broke away to read the message on the screen. Now it was my turn to breathe a sigh of relief. “Brett’s out of surgery and in recovery. Looks like he’ll be coming home from the hospital tomorrow.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Pete said, preferring to lean against the open doorway than intrude on our mother–daughter conversation. “Too bad he’ll be out the rest of the season.”

  Even though Pete didn’t mean that in a malicious way, the implications of his comment grabbed my attention and shifted it from my mom to my boyfriend.

  Brett’s season was over. The one thing he loved above all else had been taken away from him. And with it, so had his chances of getting a scholarship to the school of his choice.

  I retreated back to my room to wonder how he’d deal with it all.

  Chapter Twelve

  I spent the rest of Saturday looking at PAC-12 schools, even though I knew Brett’s chances of signing with one of them were lower now thanks to his broken leg. I ended up applying to a few of them, though, just in case there was a chance he’d end up at one of them. Then I lost myself in a good book. It was better than dealing with reality.

  The next morning, I found myself missing my usual pancake breakfast. The last few Sunday mornings, Brett had made them for me, and I missed their warm, flaky edges and fluffy middles. I missed hearing Bitsy and Evie cry for him to flip the pancakes high in the air, and I missed the way he always obliged them with a grin.

  Brett adored his little sisters, and I never missed the way they looked up to him.

  Maybe I could get some tips from him on how to handle the impending bundle of joy that the stork would be dropping off at our home.

  The craving became overwhelming, so I headed down to the kitchen to look for ingredients to make pancakes. I was in the middle of raiding the pantry when my mom came downstairs. “Alexis, what are you doing?”

  “Looking for pancake mix,” I replied.

  “We have some?” She came beside me and peered into the pantry. “I don’t remember ever buying any.”

  Of course not. My mom wasn’t exactly the domestic type.

  “What do you say to brunch at the local café instead?” she offered, her voice unusually chipper.

  “Do you seriously think you’ll be able to get Taylor up on the weekend during morning hours two days in a row?”

  Mom closed the pantry door. “Taylor spent the night with one of her cheerleading friends.” She sounded purposely vague, so I suspected it was Summer. “Besides, we can start planning the wedding over brunch.”

  Since she was pregnant, I decided to humor her, even though I’d rather pluck out my eyelashes than talk about wedding stuff. “You’re not expecting me to wear a dress, are you?”

  Mom laughed it off as though she believed she’d be able to talk me into wearing so
me frilly bridesmaid gown. It reminded me of the way Brett had kept trying to convince me to come to Homecoming with him. Now that he had a broken leg, I doubted he’d be going at all.

  As happy as that would’ve made me two days ago, the sober reality of the situation deflated my joy. Brett wouldn’t be going because he couldn’t, not because he didn’t want to.

  The thought lingered in the back of my mind all through brunch with my mom (where she started agonizing about the cost of flowers in December and if she’d be able to secure a venue on such short notice). When we got back home, I walked the two blocks that separated my house from Brett’s and knocked on the door again.

  His dad answered with dark circles framing his dark blue eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. “Hi, Alexis.”

  “Is Brett home?”

  “Yes, but he’s sleeping. Pain meds and all.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck and avoided eye contact with me. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  I got the sense there was more going on than Brett being zonked out by Percocet, but I nodded as though I believed Mr. Pederson. “Sure. I’ll take notes in fourth period for him.”

  “Thanks,” he replied in an almost distracted manner, and then it hit me.

  Brett’s dad was probably taking the injury even harder than Brett. After all, he’d been the one pushing Brett to get a football scholarship at a big school. He’d been the one living vicariously through his son and all the media attention Brett had received. And he was the one whose football career had ended with an injury, just like Brett’s could possibly be ending now.

  Mr. Pederson closed the door without another word, leaving me standing on the front porch with more worries than I’d started with. I could try texting Brett later tonight, but in the meantime, I had other problems to deal with.

  I waited until 12:01 p.m. to call Richard.

  Instead of sounding like the half-asleep grumbling guy I usually got when I called on a Sunday, Richard answered with a perky, “Hello, Alexis!”

  “Date went well last night?”

  “You could say that. Care to hear all the juicy details?”

  “Where do you want to meet?”

  He named the park he’d taken me to a couple of weeks ago. When I joined him in the parking lot fifteen minutes later, he waved for me to follow him down the same trail and didn’t say a word until we’d reached the big rock we’d sat at before. This time, however, the day wasn’t warm and sunny. Clouds hung low in the sky, not quite burned off from the weakening autumn sun. On the plus side, though, I wasn’t soaked from a water fight at a senior-class car wash.

  I climbed up on the rock and waited for Richard to start gushing about his date.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  Richard pulled out his phone and showed me a selfie he’d taken with the guy. “Isn’t Sean a hottie?”

  I studied the guy in the photo. It was a better shot than the one in his profile that Richard had shown me a few days ago. Sean was good looking. Almost too good looking in that meticulously groomed way. His light brown hair had been slicked back on top, revealing an undercut on the sides. Dazzling white teeth appeared from his grin, and his pale blue eyes sparkled like glacier ice. Yet despite his perfection, his smile was genuine, and he appeared to be having a good time with Richard.

  “Nice.” I handed the phone back to him. “What did you end up doing?”

  “What didn’t we do?” he replied in a suggestive manner.

  Oh shit! Did Richard lose his V-card before me?

  Richard must’ve seen the panic on my face because he laughed and said, “Relax. We didn’t go that far…yet.”

  “But I take it you had fun.”

  “Boy, did I ever!” He hopped on the rock next to me. “We met up on Capitol Hill for dinner—Dick’s, of course.”

  Dick’s Drive-In was a Seattle institution, famous for their hamburgers and shakes. Of course, it was only ironic that one of their most popular locations was right in the heart of Seattle’s gay district.

  “And then?”

  “We just stumbled around the area until we found a place that would accept our fake IDs and let us in to dance.” He let out a huff of disgust. “I hate that so many of the places are twenty-one and older there. It takes the fun out of being young and gay.”

  “Any reason why he wanted to meet there instead of around here?”

  Richard squirmed. “Well, even though he’s out to his close friends and family, he’s not out to his classmates, and he was worried about being seen.” Then he stiffened with resolve like a soldier standing at attention. “But don’t worry—I’m helping him get over that. I’ve been out for years now, and I get invited to the in-crowd parties.”

  I didn’t mention that he’d been invited to the first such party only a couple of weeks ago and that he’d also received three hate letters just this week.

  “And he did agree to be my date to Homecoming,” Richard continued.

  So it wasn’t as bad as it first sounded. Sean might be wanting to come out slowly, but he was coming out, and he didn’t mind being seen with Richard, which eased my worries. “Sounds like you’ll have a good time.”

  “Well, I have to live up to my hype as the Token Gay Guy, after all, and Sean’s fun. And a good dancer. And a really good kisser. And he has—”

  “Save it for Saturday night,” I interrupted, praying the conversation wouldn’t veer into the territory I feared it was headed. It was bad enough that I had to listen to Morgan gush about her hookups’ attributes. I didn’t need to hear it from Richard, too.

  Not that I wouldn’t be happy to hear Morgan gush about anything now. “I went by Morgan’s house yesterday morning, but she kicked me out.”

  “I’ll try this afternoon,” Richard said quickly.

  “Promise?” After all, he had been saying that all week.

  He gave me a sheepish smile. “Promise.”

  “Just be warned—she’s gone platinum blond.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re kidding?”

  I shook my head. “And some of her piercings seem to be missing, but it could’ve been because she was still in her PJs when I went by.”

  “Wow.” He pursed his lips and tapped his finger on his chin. “I don’t like the sound of this. There’s only one reason why Morgan would undergo such a drastic transformation.”

  Neither one of us voiced the fears that lingered in the back of our minds. When Morgan broke up with a guy, she tended to get a new piercing or tat or maybe even add some highlights to her previously dyed-black hair. But for her to go anywhere near her natural blond color meant she was making some big changes, and I hoped it didn’t include ending our friendship.

  “Maybe I should head over there now.” Richard jumped off the rock and waited for me to follow. “Anything else?”

  “Nope, but I’d appreciate you just getting her to listen to my side of things. The last two times I’ve tried to talk to her, she was so pissed I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” We started on the trail back to the parking lot. “Any news on Brett?”

  “Just that he’s home from the hospital and too drugged up for visitors.”

  “Bummer. I bet you could make him feel better.”

  My cheeks grew warm from the suggestive tone in his voice. “I doubt he’s in any condition for what you have in mind.”

  “But a few kisses wouldn’t hurt.”

  If only I could get past his parents and see him, I’d gladly give him more than a few kisses if it helped him feel better.

  “You just deal with Morgan. I’ll handle Brett.”

  He snickered. “I bet you’ll handle Brett.”

  I gave him a playful shove.

  He shoved me back and dashed ahead of me, turning around after twenty yards to see if I would follow.

  I grinned and chased after him.

  ***

  Later that night, Richard called me. “So, how did it go?” I asked
when I answered the phone.

  “Um, interestingly well?” he replied, sounding hopeful. “I mean, she’s still pissed at you, but I was able to tell her what really happened that night and that the only reason you went out with that douchebag was to make Brett jealous.”

  “And what did she say to that?”

  “She was still angry that you went out with him, but when I told her how he’d tried to rape you…” Richard’s voice drifted off, and I could picture him on the other side of the line trying to figure out the most tactful way to put things. “Well, I wonder if there was more to their ‘date’ than what she shared with us.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I don’t know, Alexis. I mean, she seemed to withdraw when I told her what he did to you. Almost curl up into a tiny ball. Then she told me to get the fuck out, which ended the conversation.”

  So my gut had been right, and I wasn’t the only one who was worried that Gavin had done something to Morgan. “You don’t think he did the same to her?”

  “First off, Morgan had been wanting to jump his bones from the moment she saw him, so I don’t think he needed to get her drunk to get her in his bed.” Richard paused. “But something seems off about all this, starting with the report of their date a few weeks ago.”

  I replayed the conversation at the fro-yo place a few weeks ago. Morgan admitted she’d slept with him, but even then, I noticed something was off in the way she described the date. Morgan enjoyed sex. Usually, she gushed about her latest conquests, providing a healthy helping of too much information about the guy. Stuff I really didn’t need to hear about. But when she’d described her one date with Gavin, she seemed almost…bored.

  “Think we need to corner her for an intervention?” I suggested, my stomach queasy at the thought of Gavin having done something to hurt her.

  “Maybe, if we can do it after debate team practice, and if we can ever catch her at home.” Stress tightened Richard’s reply, raising his voice a little. “And then there’s Homecoming, and damn it, Alexis, I know I need to help with Morgan, but I’m feeling so overwhelmed.”