This Is So Not Happening (9 page)

“Okay …”

“And every five seconds? It’s like I know for absolute sure what I want to do, and then five minutes later I want to do the exact opposite.” Her voice caught and she turned to hug me again. “I haven’t slept in, like, weeks…. I’m totally losing it.”

My throat was dry and my heart pounded so hard it hurt. “You can, like, talk to me about this stuff, you know. You don’t have to avoid me in school all the time. If you’re freaking out … you should tell me.”

Chloe gave me this tight smile. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not. I mean, we’re …” I paused and cleared my throat. “We’re in this together. We should be figuring it out … together.”

Her eyes were so hopeful right then I knew I’d said the right thing. For once. “But what about Ally? Won’t she mind if we’re talking all the time?”

“Ally’ll understand,” I said automatically.

Chloe nodded and stepped back from me. “So, what do
you
want to do? If you had to decide right now, would you keep the baby or …”

My mind went completely blank. Here I’d just offered to be there for her and I had no answer to that question. I didn’t want to be a father. I knew that. But ever since hearing that heartbeat, the whole abortion thing gave me the skeevs. So there was adoption, but if we did that, then everyone would know. What would it be like if everyone knew?

“God, Chloe, I have no idea.”

She teared up again, but smiled. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Okay. It’s okay,” I said. “Look, we just … have to tell your parents. That way they won’t find out from anyone else and they can help us figure out what to do.”

“But they—”

“I know it’ll suck at first, but your parents, like, worship you,” I reminded her. “They’ll be okay and they’re gonna help you.”

Chloe pressed her swollen lips together. Her whole face was wet. “You think?”

“Definitely. And if I’m wrong and they throw you out, you can totally stay here.”

Chloe snorted a laugh and pressed her cheek against my chest. “Thanks a lot,” she said sarcastically.

I hadn’t been joking, but I figured I’d go with it. Her laughing was better than her crying. I smoothed her hair down her back.

“No problem,” I said, shrugging. “You can sleep on the floor in your condition, right?”

Chloe laughed for real this time and looked up at me, just as
the back door from the kitchen slid open and Ally came bouncing out with a big grin on her face. She took one look at us, Chloe smiling with her arms locked around me, me with my hand on her hair, and the grin completely disappeared.

“Ally! Hi!” Chloe said, pushing me away from her. She wiped her face again, then swiped her hands on her sweatpants. “Jake and I were just—”

“Chloe was upset about—”

“It’s okay. I get it,” Ally said.

She took a couple of steps toward us, fiddling with a small book. I awkwardly leaned in to kiss her hello. She turned her face so I got her cheek. Great. So maybe she
would
mind if Chloe and I started talking more. I cleared my throat.

“So … what’s up?”

Ally had this look in her eyes. This look like she was trying really, really hard to like me, and it wasn’t happening. She forced a smile onto her face and lifted the book.

“I got a part in the play,” she said with some seriously weak enthusiasm. “I’m gonna be Helena … one of the two main female roles.”

“That’s great!” I said, hugging her for real.

“Congratulations, Ally!” Chloe said with a smile.

“Thanks.” Ally looked back and forth between the two of us. She twisted her lips sideways, like she always does when she doesn’t know what to do. “I can go if you—”

“No. It’s cool. I was just gonna leave anyway,” Chloe said, angling toward the side yard. “I’ll talk to you later?” she said to me.

“Yeah,” I said with a nod.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

And then she was gone. I looked at Ally. She was watching me carefully, like she’d never met me before and was trying to decide if she trusted me.

“So … wanna help me with my precalc?” I joked.

“You’re doing homework? Go, you,” she said.

“I figured someone’s gotta do it,” I said, sitting down again. I stared at the closed notebook and suddenly felt very tired. I wished it was five minutes ago, when I’d actually felt like doing work.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, then,” Ally said. “I just wanted to tell you about the play, so …”

“You don’t have to go.” But I had to turn around to say it, because she was already at the door. I was kind of dying for her to stay so we could get past the awkward. Plus I had a bad feeling I wasn’t going to get anything done anyway. “We could watch a movie.”

“No. Do your work. I’ll see you at the game tonight,” Ally said, halfway inside now.

“Okay,” I said. “Hey, Al?”

“Yeah?”

It felt like there was a sharp rock stuck in my throat. “I love you.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I know.”

And then she was gone too.

“Whatcha doin’?” Faith asked, dropping down next to me on the stage floor, where the cast of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
was gathering for our first read-through. She popped open a bottle of water, took a sip, and leaned over my shoulder to see my notebook. “‘Love is patient? Love is kind’?” she read, screwing up her face like she was sucking on a lemon.

I flipped my notebook facedown. “I’m working on my maid of honor speech for my mom’s wedding.”

Faith settled back on her hands, looking around at the rest of the cast, who were slowly trickling in. “Isn’t that, like,
months
from now?”

“Yeah, but believe me, I need months to figure out what the heck I’m gonna say.” I shoved the notebook into my backpack and sighed. “How am I supposed to make it seem like I’m psyched about her marrying a guy who’s not my dad? How could she even ask me?”

Faith shrugged. “Just fake it.
Act
like you’re happy for them.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mumbled.

Faith got a text and pounced on her phone. “Chloe,” she said with a groan. “She wants to know if I want to come over for ice cream after.” She texted something back and shoved the phone under her thigh. “Ugh. This is, like, the third time this week. Pretty soon people are going to start thinking
I’m
pregnant.”

“Faith,” I said through my teeth, glancing around to see if anyone in the expanding circle of cast members had heard. Everyone was munching happily on their vending-machine
chips and the conversation was growing louder and louder with each new arrival.

“What? I’m totally getting fat from hanging out with her, trying to be Miss Supportive,” Faith countered. “And have you seen Chloe lately? I can’t believe her mother hasn’t figured it out yet. Her ass is drooping and her nose is, like, spreading across her face. Look at this picture I took of her at the mall last night! Look! It doesn’t even look like her.”

Faith shoved her phone in front of my nose until I had to look at it. Chloe was backlit by the awful lights of the food court and therefore looked, understandably, bloated and white.

“Could you find more unflattering lighting?” I whispered back.

Faith glanced at the screen. “True. But for reals. She has to tell her parents soon. Oversize sweatshirts can only hide so much.”

“Faith!” I admonished again.

She gave me an exasperated look. “Ally!” she said in the exact same tone.

I looked at the girl next to me to see if she’d overheard anything. Luckily she had her iPod on, the cords dangling from beneath her thick black hair and pink-and-red knit hat, and she was staring up at the stage lights overhead.

“So have you and Jake, like … you know?” Faith asked. “Because, I mean, I would be terrified that he had some kind of, like, supersperm or something and—”

“Omigod!” I said through my teeth. “Can we please talk about anything else?”

She pulled her face back, offended, and turned away. “God. You’d think
you
were the hormonal one.”

I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer for patience. I had joined this production so I could get away from this crap, but I should have known. I should have known that as long as Faith was a part of it I wouldn’t be getting away from anything.

“Good afternoon, cast!” Mrs. Thompson called out, finally finished with the intense tête-à-tête she’d been having with our stage manager. “And congratulations on winning your roles!”

The girl next to me turned off her iPod as everyone in the circle applauded our mutual achievement. I clapped louder than anyone, because I was actually thanking Mrs. Thompson for distracting Faith.

“Today I’d like to do a line reading of the script so that everyone can familiarize themselves with who’s playing which parts, and so we can start to get a rhythm down,” Mrs. Thompson continued, removing her tweed jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. Beneath it she wore a fitted black T-shirt and jeans, and suddenly she looked ten years younger. She sat down story-time style next to Faith and leaned over to take her copy of the script out of her battered leather bag. “But first, I’d like to shift things around a bit,” she said, looking around the circle. “Corey? If you could come sit next to Faith … and Lincoln? If you could come sit next to Ally,” she said, pointing at me.

A guy directly across from me unfolded his long legs and pushed himself to his feet. He had adorably mussed red hair and wore an old suit vest over a faded U.S. Navy T-shirt. He strolled across the circle with his backpack dangling from one hand and a white wax-paper bag clutched in the other. As he sat next to me, forcing the iPod girl to scoot away, he shot me a smile. It was a nice smile.

“Lincoln Carter,” he said, his voice a surprisingly low
rumble. “Named after my parents’ two favorite presidents.”

“Really?”

“No.” He opened the wax-paper bag and held it out to me. “Gummi bear?”

“Sure.” I took a red one and popped it onto my tongue.

“Just don’t call me ‘Link,’” he said. “Makes me think of ‘the missing link’ and that’s not something I want to be.”

“Good,” Mrs. Thompson said as Corey Hinds settled in between her and Faith. “The four of you play our two couples, so I think it makes sense for you to start getting used to being close to one another.”

I looked at Lincoln and blushed. “You’re playing Demetrius?”

“You’re thinking about the kiss, aren’t you?” he said with a grin. “Don’t worry. I’ve been told by several people that I’m quite skilled.”

I guffawed. “Really?”

His grin widened. “No.”

He tossed three more gummi bears into his mouth and his elbow brushed mine. I had no instinct to move away and, in fact, suddenly found I couldn’t stop smiling. Innocently flirting with this guy for the next month? Pretending to be in love with him onstage? That would definitely be a distraction.

Ally hadn’t looked up from her silverware in about ten minutes. Actually, the silverware at the country club is gold, but I’ve never heard anyone call it goldware. Whatever it’s called, she kept flipping the pieces over, then flipping them back, like
if she did it enough times she would open the gateway to the magical world of Narnia and be able to get the hell out of here. Not that I could blame her. For some reason I could think of exactly nothing to talk about. Well, nothing other than Chloe and the baby, which were probably not the best date topics. I wished I could ever think about anything else, but it was next to impossible.

“Are you okay?” I asked finally.

She stopped and forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. This is … great.”

Her eyes shifted to that spot across the room that I’d been glancing at all night—the table where my father, mother, and brother, Jonah, were sitting with a whole mess of my dad’s colleagues, everyone dressed up for the occasion. Her mother and Dr. Nathanson were sitting a few tables away too. I guess Dr. Nathanson was invited because he and my dad worked at the same hospital or whatever, but having both sets of parents here just made it that much worse. When I’d asked Ally out for tonight, I’d completely spaced that my dad was getting some kind of philanthropy award and that I’d promised to come. I’d seen it on the kitchen calendar as soon as I’d gotten back from practice and was so pissed I’d practically put a hole in the wall with my head.

I just wanted to be alone with my girlfriend. Why was that so hard to do?

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I wanted to do something alone together, but with the Chloe crap about to hit the fan I figured it would be a bad idea to piss them off now.”

Not that I had any idea when the Chloe crap was actually going to hit the fan. In the last week she had decided to tell
our parents, then bailed on her plan five different times—once while I was in the middle of taking the SAT. I’d gotten a text from her when I’d turned on my phone during a pee break and I hadn’t been able to concentrate for shit after that. Every time I got myself all psyched up to do it, she kept pulling the rug out from under me. But I, of course, hadn’t said anything to her about it because I was a total frickin’ wuss. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I was hoping that the whole thing would just miraculously go away.