Father Knows Best (8 page)

“Maybe he was waiting until you were older?”

“Could be.” I considered that. “Anyway, it would be weird anyway, no matter who he picked. But it’s weirder because of us and the fact that the girlfriend in question is your mom. But not because I don’t like her or think she’s good enough. It’s because I…like you.”

He kissed me on the forehead, then took my hand and led me toward the car. “I understand.”

“Riiiiight.”

“I do. I’m not as clueless as you think. But don’t stress so much. They’ve only been dating for a couple of months. I know my mother. Trust me, they’re not going to get married any time soon.”

“H-how can you be so sure?”

“After my parents’ awful divorce, Mom’s in no hurry to rush back into wifehood again. She’s happy the way things are.”

Happy? Uh-oh. A new horrible thought seeped into my brain, and I stumbled to a stop.

Dylan cocked his head to the side. “What now?”

“W-what if they break up?” I wadded the neckline of my T-shirt in one fist and searched his face for reassurance. “What if they break up, Dyl, and your mom doesn’t want you to see me anymore because it’s awkward for her to—”

“Lila!” he barked.

I clamped my mouth shut.

He shook his head, smiling like I was some freakish specimen he should put into a large jar with Formaldehyde for further scientific study and evaluation. “Enough with the negativity, okay? Can you stop thinking so much? Please?”

Bewildered, I asked, “How can I just stop thinking?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Pretend you’re a guy.”

Made sense in a eerie kind of way. I know my slack-jawed brother, Luke the Puke, didn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking deep thoughts. Or any thoughts. He’d rather just belch and scratch himself.

We started toward the car again. “Just let them do their thing. We’ll do our thing. It’s not the end of the world if our parents date.”

I crinkled my nose. “Even if they sleep together?”

He held up a finger. “We have no definitive proof that such activity is occurring.”

“Yeah, but still.”

He sighed. “Yes, Lila, it’s not our place to worry even if they start having wild jungle sex—”

“Stop!” I covered my ears. “I get it.”

“Good. Finally.”

Thoroughly nauseated, I tossed him the keys. “You drive.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “I have too much swirling around in my head. More now, thanks to that last horrific comment of yours. And I promised my dad I’d pay attention on the road whenever I got behind the wheel.”

He clamped his palm closed around the keys. “Sweet.”

We got in the car and snapped our seat belts tight. Dylan fired up the engine and maneuvered the car into merging position.

I bit down on my tongue. The “don’t think” directive? Yeah, not quite working yet—big shocker. I drummed my fingers on my lips, watching him watch the traffic whiz by. It felt like my insides were inflating like a balloon with too much air. “Can I just ask you one thing before I embark on the whole ‘stop thinking’ plan?”

He sighed. “Okay. But one.”

“Just play along. And don’t get mad.”

He bulged his eyes at me.

I cleared my throat. “Let’s say your mom and my dad do end up getting married eventually.” I paused, waiting for him to get what I was implying. He didn’t. “Could happen, right?”

“Okay, sure. Your point?”

“What do you mean? That’ll make us step-siblings.”

He blinked, unconcerned. “So?”

Damn, guys really didn’t think so much. “So, what do we do about our relationship then? To make it less…weird?”

“Why would it be weird? We’re practically adults.”

“It just would.”

He pulled onto the highway, then flashed me an evil grin. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to move to one of them states where it’s okay to date your sister, Daisy Lou,” he teased in a doofus accent.

Still, it cheered me. “You are one sick, twisted puppy, Dylan Sebring. Totally, completely—”

“Irresistible.”

I smirked. “Right. Only if that’s a euphemism for sick and twisted,” I said, glad that we were on the road back to being us.

After that, things seemed normalish again, but wow! I’d like to go on the record right this moment to say, fights blow. A lot. However, having gotten past our first one and airing out all our worries (well, my worries), we seemed to have moved to a new level in our relationship.

I felt good. Secure. Totally in the L-word with Dylan, which, of course, would remain unmentioned. For the time being, at least.

Now, if only I really could stop thinking.

By the time we entered White Peaks’ city limits, the setting sun had painted pink and orange streaks across the sky, and all seemed peachy in Dylan-n-Lila Land. Thankfully. I dropped him off at his house, punctuating the trip with a super-yummy long kiss good night and promises (from me) to try and think more like a guy—in other words,
not
think. I did, however, decide to rethink the whole plan to break up Dad and Chloe. Maybe it wasn’t necessary, and it definitely wasn’t nice. I wasn’t ready to start calling her
Mama
, but I could let them do their thing…I think.

The day had been an exhausting roller-coaster ride of emotions. Excitement and then worry and then elation about my new car. Weirdness about the parentals and then the fight with Dylan.

That had been the worst.

I was wiped, and looking forward to simply chilling in my room, checking e-mail from my friends. Just…being alone. Quiet. Free to not think.

So, imagine my surprise when I pulled into the driveway and found Meryl and Caressa, who was supposed to be in final prep mode for NYC, waiting for me on the—gak!—porch swing (not thinking about it. I might have to get one of those sage smudge sticks from Inner Power and cleanse the whole area before I could Zen out about the whole thing).

I stepped out of the car, smiling curiously at my pals. “Hey! What are you guys doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Caressa said. “Nice ride!”

“Thanks!” I twirled my hand like one of those busty, scantily clad girls on the game shows, displaying the Big Prize. “Come check it out. It’s awesome.”

They both stood and started toward me.

“But, seriously, Caressa, how’d you get out of the house? I thought today was parent day?”

“Special dispensation,” she said, by way of explanation, which really didn’t explain jack.

They both came down to inspect the car, but their enthusiasm seemed…tight. Their focus fractured. Their smiles and comments just a bit too bright and rehearsed, if you know what I mean. Instinct told me something else was on their minds. Meryl, especially, seemed super preoccupied. I watched them examine my car, but a sense of alarm had begun to seep into my brain. I crossed my arms protectively across my abdomen.

Maybe I was a worst-case scenario thinker. Or maybe my raw emotions were too close to the surface after today, and I was reading too much into my two BFFs’ uncharacteristic behavior.

Yeah, that was it.

Had to be. Right?

I made a concerted effort to relax, stretching my neck side-to-side and shaking out my hands. After clearing my throat, I asked, “Mer, how was the hike?” I tilted my head toward the front door. “You guys want to come inside for a bit after you’re done drooling on my dashboard?”

“I can’t stay,” Meryl said. She’d been bent over peering into the passenger side at the airbags. She stood up slowly, and I studied her. Her naturally alabaster skin seemed even more pale against the red of her hair, making her freckles stand out, and her normally sparkly blue eyes looked…heavy. “Oh,” she said abruptly, in total afterthought mode. “The hike was hard, but great.”

Okay, now I knew I wasn’t imagining things.

Something was up.

On a normal day, you could ask Meryl seventeen unrelated questions all in a row—without punctuation—and she remembered to answer every single one of them, appropriately and in order. It was one of her many special talents.

“I can’t stay either,” Caressa said, with a small shrug. “My freedom pass has an expiration time stamp, what with the flight tomorrow and everything.”

They closed my car doors, and then we all stood there sort of staring at each other from various sides of the car. Me, in front of it. Meryl, passenger side. Caressa, driver’s side. I swallowed, searching my brain for a plausible reason why (1) they’d sit here and actually wait for me, and yet (2) have nothing to say. Goose bumps washed over me.

“So…you guys just dropped your plans to come by and wait for me so you could check out the new wheels?”

Please say yes.

“Yes,” Caressa said, just as Meryl said, “No.”

They exchanged a weird, unreadable glance.

Caressa moistened her lips with a quick, nervous flick of her tongue and cast me an apologetic look. “Actually, Meryl’s right on that one.”

I could feel my body bracing itself from the inside, safety gates slamming down, windows boarding up, emotions heading into the deep freeze for safekeeping. Still, I tried to keep my tone light. “Right about what?”

“About why we came over. Well, we did want to see the car,” Meryl offered. “But there’s something else, too.”

Again with the freakin’ blood pounding loudly in my ears. I’d had about enough of that for one day. I needed Excedrin. And possibly a hearing aid. I stepped around the front bumper of the car to be closer to Mer, my hands in fists at my sides, and dropped all pretense of lightness. “What? Tell me what’s wrong, because I know something is. Are your families okay?”

“They’re fine. Everyone’s fine,” Caressa said, flashing a quick, uncertain glance across the hood at Meryl again. I watched her take a deep breath and blow it out. “It’s just—”

“Jennifer Hamilton is pregnant,” Meryl blurted.

I gasped as though someone had kicked me in the gut.

Wait. Wait. Back the hell up.

Jennifer.

Hellspawn.

Hamilton.

Knocked.

Up?

Holy, holy, holy—

“What?” I whispered.

Meryl nodded. “Pregnant.”

“D-do you mean she’s going to have a baby?” I asked, stupidly.

“Yep,” Caressa said, on a sigh. “That kind of pregnant.”

“Is there a different kind?” Meryl asked us both, totally serious.

Natch, we didn’t answer.

My mind spun as I tried to wrap my brain around this unexpected bit of news. Let’s review. Jennifer Hamilton is the kind of pregnant that meant she would eventually give birth. To a baby. Which simply wasn’t heard of in her circle, I might add. Speaking of her circle…

I blinked, then looked from one friend to the other. “And the evil flying monkey posse?” I ventured, referring to her so-called “in crowd” of vapid, cheerleading, bleached-blond followers, all of whom despised and tortured us whenever possible and for no reason.

“Well, none of them are pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking,” Caressa said.

“But, according to Jennifer, they’ve pretty much dropped her completely,” Meryl added, in a strangely sad voice. “Some friends, huh?”

Something seemed off. Why was Meryl compassionate to this girl? Hellspawn and the Evil Flying Monkey Posse had treated her—all of us—like unadulterated crap for years, and now she was all empathetic to the Spawn just because she was going to spawn? We shouldn’t care about Jennifer and her stupid mistake. We shouldn’t care about her hateful posse. We shouldn’t care about any of it. But there were issues…

A beat passed.

“Dude, this is like a bad MFTVM.”

“What?” Meryl asked, looking mystified.

Ah, yes. It bears mentioning that Meryl’s family is anti–pop culture. They don’t own television—never have, so she’s often utterly clueless when it comes to stuff the rest of us take for granted. “It stands for Made-for-TV-Movie.”