Me, Just Different

by Stephanie Morrill

  He smoothed my hair. “We’ll find her.” He said it with such tenderness, I fell a bit harder for him. How had I not appreciated him all these months?

  I leaned into his touch. “Thanks for being here.”

  “Thanks for turning to me.” He cupped my cheek. “I thought . . . I don’t know. For a while now, I thought we were on the verge of breaking up.”

  I offered an apologetic smile. “That’s because I’m an idiot.”

  “You’ve had a lot going on.” He shrugged. “Apparently.”

  His tone convicted me. “I should’ve told you. I just didn’t know how.”

  Eli pulled away and tugged at the cuffs of his sweater. “But you knew how to tell Connor?”

  “It wasn’t like that.” I reached for him and covered his hands with my own. “He overheard me asking Heather to pray about it. I never would’ve told him otherwise. If I was going to voluntarily tell anybody, I swear it would’ve been you.”

  “Okay.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

  “Please don’t be upset about it,” I pleaded, squeezing his hands.

  “I don’t want to be. It’s just the thought of him comforting you all these months while I was ignorant . . .”

  “Believe it or not, Connor’s not much of a comforter.”

  Eli searched my face, as if he thought I might be lying.

  “We never really talked about it.” This didn’t appear to satisfy him, so I added, “Most of the time, I couldn’t stand him.”

  Now Eli relaxed. “I never understood what Jodi saw in that guy. He’s obnoxious.” He slid his fingers through mine. “Don’t you find him obnoxious?”

  “He’s certainly not my favorite person today,” I said with a humorless laugh.

  “Chris seems like a cool enough guy, but of course—”

  I jumped to attention. “Maybe that’s where she is!” I grabbed the phone and dialed. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”

  Eli watched my fingers fly. “You have their number memorized?”

  Before I could defend this, Amy answered. “Hello?”

  “Amy, hi, it’s Skylar. Is Abbie there?”

  There was a moment of silence. “She is. Would you like to speak with her?”

  In the background, Abbie said, “Is that Skylar? I’m not talking to her.”

  “Tell her I just want to talk for one minute,” I said.

  “She just wants a minute,” Amy relayed. Silence. She sighed. “I don’t think now is a very good time, Skylar. Maybe later tonight.”

  My throat tightened once again. “No, I have to talk to her.”

  Amy spoke softly. “She just needs a little time, dear. I’ll have her call you later.” And then she hung up.

  For a while, I held the phone to my ear and listened to the silence. Then I slammed it onto the table—the gorgeous black one that inspired Mom’s redecorated kitchen. The casing for the batteries popped off and danced across the tile floor. Eli watched it, then turned his big, denim eyes to me.

  “She won’t talk to me,” I said in an even voice.

  “I gathered that.”

  “Our mom just walked out, and Abbie won’t take a single minute to talk to me.”

  Eli reached for my hand, squeezed it. “She’s just upset.”

  “Well, so am I. Is her anger more valid because she’s dramatic about it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I should’ve had some breakdown on the phone with Amy,” I grumbled. “Then maybe she would’ve sided with me.”

  “Of course she won’t side with Abbie.” Eli fussed with my long bangs, which draped into my eyes. “You think the Rosses would let some pregnant girl hang around? They’re extremely religious.”

  “They’re also extremely accepting. Knowing Amy, she’ll take in Abbie as the daughter she never had. Abbie already has the name for it.” Bitter tears stung my eyes. I wanted to be at the Rosses’ right now, not stuck in my empty house with a shattered family to clean up. Why should this be my responsibility?

  Eli’s ringing cell phone interrupted my thoughts. He glanced at the screen. “It’s my mom.” He flipped it open. “Hey . . . Okay . . . Okay, bye.” He closed it. “Mom says dinner is almost ready and you’re welcome to join us.”

  I made myself smile. “That’s really nice of her, but I’m going over to the Rosses’ to make Abbie talk to me.”

  He stared at our joined hands for a moment, watching his own thumb caress the back of my hand. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I shrugged. “No. But she needs to know about Mom and she won’t take my call.”

  “Maybe you could just tell Amy and have her tell Abbie.” “That’s a rotten thing to do to Amy.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Eli drummed his fingertips on the table. “How about if I go with you?”

  “You have to get home for dinner.”

  “You shouldn’t have to go alone.” Eli pressed my hand against his mouth. “We’ll get through this together.”

  I looked at him, this great guy who wanted to take care of me. Waning sunlight came through the kitchen windows and lit his face, as if God himself had turned the spotlight on Eli. He was beautiful. How lucky for me that he’d stuck around through my months of pushing him away.

  I leaned into him. “I love you.”

  He smiled and kissed me.

  As I pulled into the Rosses’ driveway, a sudden rush of nerves came over me. “Maybe you should just stay in the car.”

  Eli unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m here to support you.”

  Before I could respond, he stepped out of the Land Rover, ending the discussion.

  My hand trembled as I pressed the doorbell. Which Abbie would I find inside? The scared, tearful girl who crawled into my bed when she first fell for Chris, or the feisty, angry one who came home this afternoon with swinging fists?

  Connor cracked open the door. “Now isn’t a good—” He noticed Eli and the corners of his mouth quirked. “Well, I didn’t expect this.”

  Eli’s arm pulled me even closer. “Why shouldn’t you?”

  “I need to speak with my sister,” I said.

  Connor averted his attention back to me. “Look, Skylar, we’re all encouraging her to talk to you. She’s just not ready right now.”

  “But she doesn’t mind being around you? You’re the one who told her boyfriend and started this whole mess!”

  “I told her not to blame you—”

  I snorted. “I’ll bet you did.”

  “Do you think this is some conspiracy against you?”

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” Eli said.

  Connor looked at Eli. “She doesn’t need you to protect her.”

  “Leave him alone,” I said. Connor’s face revealed his surprise. I shrugged. “At least somebody is supporting me.”

  Connor kept his voice low. “My being in here with Abbie doesn’t mean I’m not supporting you. I didn’t even know she was coming over. She just showed up crying and—”

  I laughed. “Of course. Abbie cries, so she gets the sympathy. What about me? I’m the one who had to go home and find my mom packing her European luggage.” I enjoyed Connor’s shocked expression. “That’s right. Apparently, my mom has decided she’s done with the whole mom thing and is moving on with her life. And that is why I wanted to get ahold of Abbie, because I thought she might want to know. And I thought it would be best coming from me, but since everyone in your family is so intent on protecting her, you can break the bad news.”

  I stalked down the manicured walkway, my dry eyes burning. Eli remained at the door long enough to exchange a few words with Connor, then he was at my side.

  “All I wanted to do was talk to my sister.” My voice choked with tears that didn’t fall. “Is that such a big thing to ask?”

  Eli rubbed my shoulder. “He’s being a jerk. He should’ve let you in. Believe me, when you walked away, I told him exactly how I felt about the way he acted—”

  “
Skylar!”

  I turned and saw Cameron scampering down the driveway, his feet bare in the forty-degree weather. He thrust his arms around my waist. “Connor said I should hug you.”

  Warmth filled my heart as I squeezed Cameron back. I held him there for a minute. “You should get inside. Your feet are going to freeze and fall off.”

  Cameron giggled and frolicked back into the house, pausing to wave before he closed the door behind him.

  When I got in the car, I saw Eli’s eyes full of suspicion. “I thought you didn’t like kids.”

  I smiled at the Rosses’ front porch, where Cameron had waved. “That one’s special.”

  Dad came home barely fifteen minutes after Eli dropped me off. It was the first time in two weeks that he might have made it home for dinner. Of course, that implied dinner was still an event worth being home for. Last week, Mom started serving us cereal and ice cream for dinner. Heating up frozen lasagna was now too much of a chore.

  When Dad arrived, he came through the garage as usual. Looking at him, I realized it had been awhile since I’d paid much attention to his appearance. His handsome face showed evidence of late nights and his gray hair needed a trim. In the early days, before his company took off, Mom had cut his hair to save money. She’d drag one of the wooden chairs into the middle of the linoleum and drape a silly cape over his clothes. Mom didn’t allow Abbie and me in the kitchen during haircuts—she didn’t want us tracking hair all over the place—but we could hear them from the living room, laughing and chatting. I hadn’t thought about those days in a long time.

  “Skylar?”

  I realized then that I’d been standing in the living room staring at Dad. I blinked away tears. “Hi.”

  He studied me a moment. “Is something wrong?”

  I nodded.

  Dad looked around the quiet, dark house, then he glanced at the garage door, as if realizing what was missing. “Where’s your mother?”

  “I have something to tell you about Abbie.”

  “Did your mother leave?”

  I only blinked at him.

  Dad took a few steps toward me. “Answer me, Skylar.”

  “I don’t think she’s coming back. Not for a while, anyway.”

  I expected to see Dad stunned. I thought he might curse and march to the phone and call Mom’s cell over and over, begging her to come home, to talk to him. I did not expect him to place a large hand on my shoulder and say with confidence, “Don’t worry. She always comes back.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked as Dad carried on with his routine—coat in the closet, keys on the hook.

  “This isn’t the first time she’s left. Just the first time you’ve known about it.”

  I followed him into his office. “When did she leave before?”

  “Hmm, when was the last time?” Dad set his briefcase on his desk and rubbed his chin with thought. “I guess it was the summer before last. She went back to Hawaii to stay with Grammy and Papa. That’s where she usually goes.” He smiled. He intended to lift my spirits, but this news only depressed me. “Sometimes your mom needs a break, Skylar, but she always comes back.”

  “Daddy.” I looked at my shoes, embarrassed for him. “I think this time is different. She left because of us. Because of Abbie and me.”

  Dad frowned. “Mom loves you girls.”

  “She said she never wanted to be a mom.”

  He kept his eyes on his desk and seemed hesitant to respond. “You came along a little earlier than we planned, but we always loved you.”

  That triggered Mom’s parting words: “Keep them from making the mistakes I made. And it turns out I can’t even manage that.”

  “How early?” I asked.

  “What?”

  I gripped the back of Dad’s receiving chair. “You said I came along earlier than planned. How early?”

  Again, Dad seemed reluctant to respond. He rearranged a few items on his already tidy desktop. “I’m not sure I know what you’re driving at.”

  “Abbie’s pregnant.”

  Dad’s eyes locked on mine as he sank into his desk chair. “Of course,” he said, seemingly to himself. “That makes so much sense.”

  “When Mom found out, she and Abbie went at it. I left, and when I came home, Abbie was gone and Mom left a few minutes later.”

  Dad ran his hands through his shaggy hair. “Where’s Abbie now?”

  “The Rosses’.”

  “Good.” He gazed into his blank desktop. “The father?”

  “You don’t know him. His name is Lance Hartfield. He goes to school with us.”

  “And he knows about the baby?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, we need to alert the father and figure out how to proceed. We might need a lawyer.” His hand moved for the phone. “Do you have the Rosses’ number? Let’s see if Abbie is coming home anytime soon.” When I didn’t answer, Dad looked up at me. “Skylar?”

  “You’re making lists.” Tears rolled down my cheeks, as if I needed to compensate for Dad’s lack of emotion. “You haven’t even talked to Abbie. Aren’t you worried about her?”

  Dad swallowed and dropped his gaze to his desk. “Of course.” His voice was barely a whisper. “This is just what I do in a crisis, Skylar. I detach. I make lists. It’s how I am.”

  My hands trembled as I planted them on my hips. “That’s a fine way to handle business, Dad, but this is Abbie we’re talking about.”

  He just sat there, eyes lowered, so I left him alone.

  17

  I couldn’t tear my gaze from the Rosses’ front door. “Come on, come on,” I muttered.

  I spent my morning agonizing about this, seeing Abbie for the first time since yesterday’s fight. With each passing minute—six total—parked in the driveway, my nerves wound tighter.

  Was it intentional, making me wait? Were they all inside at the breakfast table, scarfing down buttermilk pancakes and laughing about my rumbling stomach? Connor said this wasn’t a conspiracy against me, but the longer I sat out there, the more it felt like one. It was possible, however, that my hunger made me paranoid. I last ate at lunch yesterday.

  Paranoid or not, I’d waited way too long for them to grace me with their presence. I forced myself out into the bitter cold and marched to the front door.

  Amy answered my knock. “Skylar! What are you doing here?”

  Usually I kept my attitude tucked deep inside around Amy, but this was too much. “I take your boys to school. Remember?”

  “Of course, I’m just confused. Connor drove Chris and Abbie this morning. I thought he talked to you.”

  “Well, he didn’t.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I’ve been sitting in your driveway the last seven and a half minutes waiting on them. I could have driven myself to and from school almost three times by now.” This wasn’t Amy’s fault, of course, but I couldn’t seem to keep the words inside. “Not that anybody cares how I spend my time. I could’ve skipped school altogether today and my parents wouldn’t have noticed.”

  Amy’s smile was sympathetic. “That’s not true.”

  “It is. When I got up this morning, my dad had already left for work.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you know what it’s like to have parents who don’t care about you?”

  “Your parents care, Skylar.”

  “No they don’t.” I glanced at my watch. “But Mr. Huntley does, and I’ll be late for first period if I don’t go now.”

  As I backed out of the driveway, Amy watched from the doorway despite the brisk wind. She raised her hand in a slight wave, and my spirits buoyed.

  Even with running all the way to American History, the bell rang long before I arrived. I winced at the sound. It couldn’t happen with a worse teacher.

  Mr. Huntley pounced when I stepped inside the room. “Skylar, I need you in your seat when the bell rings. Consider this a warning. Next time I’ll count you tardy.”

  Thanks, Mom and Dad.


  As I slid into my seat, both Eli and Connor said, “Where were you?” They looked at each other—two animals battling for the top.

  In a hushed voice, so as not to draw Mr. Huntley’s attention, I answered Eli, “I’ve been sitting in the Rosses’ driveway.”

  “Why?” they both asked.

  Eli glared at Connor. “Would you stay out of this?”

  Connor ignored him. “Abbie said you left a message on her cell saying you wouldn’t be able to pick us up.”

  “Why would I have relied solely on Abbie to communicate that? She’s not answering my calls. Why would I assume she’d listen to voice mail?”

  And suddenly I realized my voice was no longer hushed. All eyes in the room rested on me, including Mr. Huntley’s. He peered over his half-glasses, his forehead deeply wrinkled. “Is my teaching interfering with your social agenda, Skylar?”

  My face burned. “I’m sorry.”

  “If you and Connor would like to chitchat, perhaps you should arrive early to school.”

  I ducked my head.

  Now that he’d sufficiently embarrassed me, Mr. Huntley resumed his lecture. Minutes later, Connor slid his notebook onto my desk. I’m sorry about this morning. Please don’t be mad. I ignored it at first, but then he nudged it closer. I fixed him with a glare that would wither anybody but the ever-resilient Connor and scribbled a profane response. He shook his head with frustration, tore the page from his notebook, and aimed for the trash can. That ended that.

  Or so I thought.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Connor asked the moment the bell rang.

  I didn’t answer, just continued jamming supplies in my backpack.

  “You can’t freeze me out forever.”

  I threw my bag over my shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  “Let me help you, Skylar. I—”

  Eli stepped between us, blocking my view of Connor. “I think Skylar has made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Fine,” Connor said. “But tell your girlfriend this morning wasn’t my fault.”

  I sidestepped Eli. “Not your fault? You were stupid enough to believe her. I’m supposed to be your best friend—”

  “You are my best friend.”