Out with the In Crowd (11 page)

“I’ll just push them into voice mail,” I said, but that’s before I saw a Kansas City number I didn’t recognize. Mom?

I opened my phone. “Hello?”

I opened my phone.

“Hi, sweetie.”

I looked at Connor. “Hi, Mom,” I said for his benefit. His eyes rounded, and he gave my leg a pat before returning to his sandwich.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact with you this week. I’ve been busy.”

“With what?” But did I want to know?

“With what?” But did I want to “Just . . . stuff. Preparations.”

My muscles clenched at this word. “Preparations” made it sound as though divorce and Hawaii were a go.

“You have a new number,” I said in an icy voice. What if I’d needed to get ahold of her? What if Abbie went into preterm labor? A mother should always be reachable.

“It was only a matter of time before Paul started calling, and I just can’t deal with him yet.”

Paul. She didn’t even have the courtesy to refer to him as my father anymore. Like I was some girlfriend rather than her daughter.

“Mom, you need to talk to him. You can’t just file for divorce and move to Hawaii.”

“That’s not for you to comment on,” Mom said. “I’m not asking your advice. I’m your mother.”

I didn’t respond. Connor poured me a cup of hot chocolate. I sipped it, wishing I hadn’t answered the phone, that Dad had kept his dirty secret, that I didn’t understand both sides of this argument.

“Have you given our discussion any more thought?” Mom asked. “About moving to Hawaii, I mean.”

Connor apparently heard Mom. He looked at me, his eyes even bigger than usual.

“Mom, you know that’s a crazy idea. I’m almost done with senior year, and Abbie’s, like, thirty-two weeks pregnant.”

Connor nodded and patted my leg again.

Mom sighed. “I guess it doesn’t make much sense. It was wishful thinking on my part.” She clucked her tongue several times, the way she often did when brainstorming. “What about when school’s out? College in Hawaii is just the same as college here. I could help Abbie with the baby. It makes perfect sense.”

I swallowed, my eyes never leaving Connor’s. “My life is here, Mom. I can’t just leave.”

“Take it from me, Skylar,” Mom said, quiet and venomous. “It’s not worth it to rearrange your entire life for a guy.
Especially
in high school. Did you know only 4 percent of people marry their high school sweethearts? With those odds, is it worth it to give up what I’m offering?”

Still Connor and I watched each other. I thought of these past months, about how whenever Mom left, Connor was always around to help me sort it out. About the guy who knew I ordered the creamy club at Planet Sub, who brought hot chocolate. And the woman who ordered me plain coffee at Starbucks.

“I’m not coming with you,” I said. “Please stop asking.” I wasn’t sure who hung up first.

In my dream, I’m wearing a fabulous white-on-black
polka-dot swimsuit, a throwback to the twenties. The breeze
tastes salty. The gorgeous sound of cresting waves fills my
ears.

“Like this,” Abbie says.

I turn to find my sister—slim and smiling—twisting her
feet deep into the golden sand.

“Where’s the baby?” I ask.

Abbie cups her ear, the universal sign for not being able
to hear.

“Where’s the baby?” I yell, even though she’s standing
right next to me.

She screws up her face. “We left it in Kansas.”

Panic floods me. “We can’t leave her! We have to go
back!”

Abbie shakes her head. “It’s not your baby, Skylar. It’s not
your responsibility.”

“We shouldn’t be here!” I yell, trying to dig my way out
of the sand.

Abbie turns and surveys the ocean, the surfers, the trees.
“Why would you be anywhere else?”

Why would you be anywhere
And then I woke up.

12

“Can I talk to you?”

I looked up from my textbook to find Eli standing beside my table. I glanced around the library at my fellow study hall classmates.

Eli grinned, making his dimples pop. “Don’t worry. I told Ms. Ness we’re working on an American History project together.”

“Right,” I said with a smile of my own. “That history project.”

He took the seat across from me and glanced at my open textbook. “Were you actually working?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine.”

“You’re the only senior I know who’s trying this semester.” Eli cocked his head and studied me. “Which seems odd for you.”

“I don’t know why I’m doing it, honestly.” I cast a forlorn look at my boring, boring bio book. “I don’t need help getting into Jo Co, it’s not going to bring up my overall GPA by much, and there’s plenty of other stuff I’d rather be doing.”

“You’ve changed a lot since I met you,” Eli said, turning my highlighter over in his hands. “That’s kinda what I want to talk to you about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eli flicked my highlighter so it spun in circles on the table. He always fidgeted when nervous. “Jodi seems to be going through the same thing you did last summer. She’s talking about getting out of the party scene and asking lots of big questions. It’s weird. First you, now her.” He gave me a wry smile. “Must be something I do to girls.”

“I don’t think it’s about you,” I said.

Eli shrugged. “Maybe not.” He stared off vacantly. “I just don’t know what to do.”

My heart thudded as I realized he was going to break up with her. I shouldn’t feel that stab of victory—I knew they wouldn’t last!—but couldn’t help it. Here Jodi had wrangled him away from me, and now she was about to lose him for the same reasons.

“So I guess what I’m wondering is”—Eli sucked in a breath—“what could I have done to be better for you? I really want to be there for Jo.”

It infuriated me, it really did. Jodi was worth supporting, but I wasn’t? So, maybe I hadn’t been the best girlfriend. And yeah, maybe I’d spent a lot of time wishing I was with Connor instead. But still. Eli may as well have walked up and slapped me in the face.

“Um.” I turned back to my bio book. “I don’t know, honestly.”

Eli worked at bending a paper clip out of shape. “She wants me to get more involved at church. When she told me that, it was like . . . what’s that word? That French word, meaning something repeating itself?”

“Déjà vu?”

“Yeah. Déjà vu. I thought it might be this phase of hers, although I’m not sure why. I thought it was a phase with you, and . . .” Eli gestured to me. “Well, obviously it’s not. You haven’t taken a drink since that night, and you’re even
studying
.”

Kinda made me sound lame. Not that I cared.

“Is it really so bad if this isn’t just a phase of Jodi’s?” I asked. “I mean, am I, like, disgusting to you or something?”

Eli grinned, ever charming. “Of course not. You know I think you’re great, Skylar.”

Heaven help me, I loved hearing him say that.

“And Jodi’s great,” he rushed to add. He dropped his gaze to the now useless paper clip. “I just want to be there for her, you know? That’s how I lost you, letting Connor be there for you when I should’ve been. I don’t want the same thing to happen with Jodi.”

I tapped my pen against the table as I thought. I could feel the slight twitch of my left eye as I mulled over Eli’s words. “You ever get worried? About Jodi and Connor, I mean.”

Eli frowned. “To be honest, it was a little weird at first. Another case of . . . what’s that word again?”

Another case “Déjà vu.”

“Right. I worried about Jodi falling for Connor like you did, but then I thought about how good everything worked out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, it sucked when I found out you and Connor were together, but aren’t we happier this way? Me with Jodi and you with Connor?” He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense, but at this point, I figure if I’m meant to be with Jodi, things will work out.”

An attitude I could stand to learn from, considering that my paranoia about Jodi and Connor made me into the exact kind of girlfriend I didn’t want to be.

The bell rang, and I collected my things. “I think Jodi’d just appreciate having you around. Like at church and youth group and stuff.”

Eli nodded. “I told her I’d go to that winter retreat thingy.”

“The what?”

“Oh. She said Connor was going. I assumed you were as well. I’m pretty sure it’s the last weekend of February.”

I racked my brain—nothing. “What is it?”

“Remember, we went freshman year? They have it at that retreat center in rural Missouri. We did a lot of hand-holding and singing ‘Kumbaya.’ ” He grinned. “Not really, but it was pretty bad.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“I swore I was done with all that stuff, but Jodi really wants to go.” Eli shrugged. “I guess that means I’ll be there.”

I bit my lower lip. “I wonder why Connor didn’t tell me about it.”

I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud until Eli said, “Maybe he forgot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder as we exited the library.

“How are things going with you and Connor?”

“Things are . . .” What was an appropriate word to use with your ex-boyfriend? One that didn’t sound too braggy but also didn’t make him think you regretted losing him? “Nice.”

He grinned—dimples, crinkled eyes, the works. I tried not to notice how good he looked.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” Eli said. He threw an arm around my shoulder, buddy-like. Though the little flip my heart did didn’t feel very buddy-like. “Do I need to have a talk with him?”

“No, things are good, I just . . .” I didn’t know how to tell Eli his girlfriend was causing problems. “Sometimes I get the feeling that—”

The sound of Abbie’s voice—Abbie’s loud, angry voice— distracted me.

“Just talk to me!” she yelled from somewhere nearby. “Through this whole thing, I haven’t asked you a single favor. I’m asking you now—talk to me.”

It sounded like it came from around the corner. I sprinted that direction, even though I knew Abbie was more than capable of taking care of herself.

I pushed my way through the crowd surrounding my sister and Lance. Lance just stood there in the circle, his eyes darting about, as if looking for someone to rescue him from the big, scary pregnant girl. Only at school did I notice the size of Abbie’s belly. Something about the lockers, the teachers, and the other stick-skinny girls drew attention to it.

“If you don’t want to help, that’s fine. But have the guts to say it to my face. Don’t make me hear it from Marie Green.” Abbie pushed him, and the girl next to me giggled. I shot her a look that shut her up, but I didn’t blame her for laughing. It really was a sight, Lance getting harassed by my eight-months-pregnant sister.

“Take him out, Abbie!” some girl in the crowd hollered. More giggling.

Okay, as much as I hated to rescue Lance, I had to get Abbie calmed down. The doctor said stress was really bad for the baby.

I cupped Abbie’s arm and prodded her away from Lance, whom she’d nearly pinned against the wall. She whirled to face me, anger flashing in her eyes. It cooled at the sight of me. “He thought I’d give her away.” Her chin trembled. “
That’s
why he’s been nice.”

She teetered on the edge of a breakdown, I could see it. Abbie had always been emotional, but now those emotions swung like a pendulum—furious one second, devastated the next. On Christmas, she had been laughing at something Connor said when her giggles suddenly became hysterical tears, just like I’d seen happen on TV.

“Let’s just go, okay?” I said in a low voice.

“Not until he talks to me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on her swollen stomach. She glared at Lance. “I want to hear you say it, that you’re not gonna help.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Let’s talk about this in private.”

“No. We’re going to talk about it right here. Tell me.” She poked him. “Tell me what you told Marie Green.”

Lance looked at me like,
Can’t you do anything?

“It’ll be over a lot quicker if you just tell her,” I said.

He shuffled his feet. “My parents said you can have all the financial help you want—”

Abbie snorted. “Financial help. Great.
That’s
what I need.” She poked him again. “Do you know how much money my father makes? I’m not hurting for ‘financial help,’ Lance.”

He scowled at her mocking tone. “You know,
you
decided to keep the baby. I told you I thought adoption was a good idea.”

“You said to do whatever I thought was best.”

“Because I thought you knew it was best to give it up.” “
Her
,” Abbie said. “My baby’s a girl. And I can raise her just fine, thank you. Without you and without your parents’ guilty money.”

“You’re being stupid, Abbie,” Lance said, but he took a couple steps back when someone else entered the circle. Eli pushed Abbie and me back, getting right in Lance’s face. “You talk to her like that again and you’ll live to regret it.” Eli towered over him until Lance had the good sense to turn away. “In fact, if you talk to her
at all
, you’ll regret that too.”

Lance muttered, “Whatever,” and weaseled out of the circle.

I tucked my arm around Abbie. “C’mon, let’s go,” I said, leading her off toward the senior parking lot.

Over Abbie’s head, my eyes met Eli’s. “Thank you,” I mouthed, and when he smiled—so sincere, so sweet—I remembered why, not so long ago, he’d been one of my best friends.

In the car, the pendulum swung.

“I just can’t believe this,” Abbie managed to say through sobs. “I can’t do this alone, I can’t. Everyone is right. I should give her up for adoption.”

“The only person saying that is Lance, and that’s just because he’s afraid to take responsibility.”

She leaned on my shoulder. “He’s been avoiding me since I told him I decided to keep her. I knew he didn’t really want to help, but still, when I found out all that stuff from Marie . . .” Abbie looked at me through puffy eyes. “They were at a party together, and he was hitting on her. She asked about me, and he said . . .”