Out with the In Crowd

by Stephanie Morrill

  17

  Heather flung open her front door. “I’m going to Uganda!”

  I blinked at her through the flakes of snow falling between us.

  “You’re letting in cold air, c’mon.” Heather grabbed my sewing basket as I stepped inside the house.

  “You’re going to Uganda?” I repeated, dropping my fabric onto the already cluttered loveseat. “Like, Africa?”

  “That’s the one.” Heather pranced around the corner into the kitchen. “You want coffee? I just made some.”

  I followed her. “Sure.” I’d had coffee too many times at Heather’s to tell her now that I didn’t like it.

  She opened a blue foil package. “It’s a winter blend. Smell it.” She waved it beneath my nose. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful?”

  It smelled better than regular coffee, I’d give her that. Wonderful wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind.

  “When are you going to Africa?”

  “Tuesday. Can you believe it? I have so much to do. I’ve been too excited to sleep.” Heather bounded to the cupboard where she kept mugs. “I’m using up all my paid vacation and had to beg a couple girls to cover some shifts, but I don’t care. I mean, this is the whole reason I became a nurse, so I could do this kind of stuff. Cream?”

  “Sure.”

  She twirled on her way to the fridge. Actually twirled. I’d rarely been so happy that I danced.

  “You wanna know how I wound up going?”

  I could tell by the gleam in her eye that this involved a guy.

  Sure enough, Brent Sanders, the new NICU doctor she’d told me about. As we worked, Heather told me how one of the nurses on the Uganda team had to back out last minute, and Brent thought Heather might like to go.

  “Oh, Skylar, he’s so . . . so . . . dreamy.” Heather giggled, and momentarily I felt like the adult in the room. “That sounds like something my mom would say, but it’s the only word I can think of. He took me out to dinner last night. We talked and talked and talked.”

  I pasted on a smile. “That’s great. I’m really happy for you.”

  Heather settled herself down. “I know I sound like an idiot, and I know it’s still early, but I just can’t help it. I’ve never felt this way about a guy.”

  “It’s about time you met someone. You deserve it.” I resumed my sewing. Had I sounded sincere? Of course, I really was happy for Heather; it had just been a rough week. I’d anticipated coming over and her making it all better. And now she planned to leave for nearly three weeks.

  Heather grinned at my project. “Is that for Abbie?”

  I nodded. “I can hardly get her interested in shopping for the baby. I figured I could at least make some bedding.”

  “I love this.” Heather picked up a swatch of fabric, the pink corduroy. For the bumper, I’d selected pink corduroy, tan corduroy, and an off-white pattern with rosebuds. Abbie dug the whole shabby chic look.

  “You know, I have some ribbon that would be perfect with this. It’s in the extra room.” Heather abandoned cutting her curtains, which she’d been too bouncy to pay much attention to anyway, and trotted off down the hallway. I sighed and followed.

  I leaned against the doorway and watched as Heather carefully stepped around the crowded floor. “How do you find anything in here?”

  “It’s a bit disheveled, isn’t it? I kept thinking I’d hang on to stuff because when I got a bigger house I’d want it, but now I’ve been here four years. Maybe I’ll give all of it the heave-ho when I come back from Uganda.”

  She wrestled with the bottom drawer of a large bureau. “I know it’s in here somewhere.” She pulled out a large plastic box full of wires and unidentifiable odds and ends. “I really wish Jodi would join us. I thought she was interested.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know.” I occupied myself with all the pictures on the wall. “You know lots of people.”

  “A large family does that.”

  I leaned closer to one of Heather with her arms around Mickey and Minnie Mouse. “When did you go to Disney World?”

  “Couple years ago with my sister and her kids. We had the best time.”

  I moved down the line—birthday parties, fancy dinners, Christmas morning—then froze at Aaron’s face grinning back at me from a wedding photo.

  “Found it!” Heather declared, and I jumped. She giggled. “Did I startle you?”

  “Kinda.” I looked back to the picture of Aaron. Surely I was mistaken . . . No. I’d recognize that face anywhere. “This is Aaron Robinson, isn’t it?” I worked hard to keep my voice casual.

  Heather gave me a funny look. “You know Aaron?”

  I shrugged. “We used to run in the same circle.”

  “Huh.” She crossed the room and examined the photo as well, a spool of ribbon dangling from one hand. “Do you know Lane?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s my sister.” She pointed to the girl sitting next to him in a bridesmaid dress, fair and beautiful like Heather. “Lane and Aaron dated for . . . a year, I guess. I’m surprised you don’t know her.”

  “I didn’t know Aaron real well.” Strange. He’d catapulted this season of my life, this weird in-between place, yet I didn’t know him. Where did he live? Who were his parents? Did he have brothers and sisters? “I just met him last summer. We have mutual friends.”

  “Hmm.” Heather looked back at the picture, her expression dim. “I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but he really broke my sister’s heart.”

  “He’s not a nice guy,” I said, and the venom in my voice surprised both of us.

  Her eyes widened. “No?”

  I needed to chill. “From what I hear.”

  “He was really horrible to Lane.” Heather turned back to the picture. She seemed forlorn. “My sister is wonderful, but she’s a real people pleaser. She let him walk all over her.” Heather sighed. “Praise God he cheated on her, because otherwise she probably would’ve followed him to school in Florida.”

  “He cheated on her?” My mouth felt desert dry.

  “Yeah. He was a partier, and I guess some friend of Lane’s saw him take another girl into a bedroom.” Heather shuddered. “So creepy.”

  “Yeah. Creepy.”

  So, okay, I didn’t have proof that her friend saw me and Aaron at Jodi’s party. There’d been lots of parties last summer. Still . . .

  Heather’s voice brightened. “But like I said, praise God it happened, because Lane is much better off.”

  How funny. Through a slimy guy and a sleazy night, it appeared God freed two unrelated, very lost girls.

  “Nursing?” Mom blinked at me. “What about fashion?”

  I feigned cluelessness. “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean?” Mom chuckled. “You’ve always talked about going into fashion or design or whatever they call it these days.”

  “Actually, I never talked about it.” I picked around my plate. “Everyone else just said it’s what I should do.”

  “For good reason,” Mom said. “It’s the only thing you’ve ever done well.”

  Gee, thanks, Mom.

  “But majors are easy enough to change,” Dad said. “I say you give nursing a try. If you get in there and don’t like it, you can always switch.”

  “Figures that’d be your advice,” Mom muttered.

  “What’s that, Teri?” Dad asked, his smile sweet.

  Abbie met my gaze across the table as the conversation ceased to be about my college plans. That’s how it went these days when we were all together. Everything turned into snide comments between Mom and Dad, a veiled tug-of-war.

  Mom bared her teeth. “Shouldn’t we be encouraging our daughters to stick with something, even if it’s hard? Not to just run off and do whatever they want, but to be responsible for choices?”

  “Yes.” Dad gave her a hard look. “I think that’s exactly what we should be teaching them.”

  “Chris asked me to Sweetheart.”

  If Abbie blurted it to
stop the arguing, it worked. Both Mom and Dad abandoned their battle and turned to her. Even my eyes widened. She hadn’t told me that. Of course, we weren’t telling each other very much these days.

  “No,” Mom said in a flat voice.

  “Why not?” Abbie asked.

  She looked at Abbie’s round stomach. “Do I really have to explain?”

  Abbie laughed, sounding as carefree as the old Abbie. “It’s just a dance. My feet will be too swollen to do anything anyway. We’ll probably just sit there on the bleachers and talk.”

  “No,” Mom said again. She looked to Dad, as if expecting him to back her. “Paul?”

  Dad shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Mom’s left eye twitched. “The house rule is no dating until college.”

  “Come on, Mom,” I said. “I have a boyfriend, and Abbie’s eight months pregnant.”

  “Skylar, no sassing your mother,” Dad said.

  I rolled my eyes. I guess we could share however many three a.m. pots of tea, but when it came down to it, he was on Mom’s side.

  Mom fixed Dad with a stony face. “Maybe if you’d do better at showing a united front, the girls wouldn’t think it’s okay to talk back.”

  “Oh, please.” Dad wiped his mouth, possibly to cover his amused smile. Little irritated Mom more than when Dad wouldn’t stop grinning during a fight. “What kind of a united front do you plan to have when you’re living in Hawaii and I’m here?”

  “That was a choice you made.”

  “That I made?” Dad laughed. “If it were up to me, we’d still be in counseling.”

  “If you were so concerned with our marriage, maybe you—”

  Abbie’s chair grated against the tile. She stood as gracefully as she could.

  “Sit down, Abigail. We’re having a family dinner,” Dad said.

  Abbie sneered. “This isn’t a family,” she said, and she stalked from the room.

  Her words sent a shiver through me. With Mom and Abbie in Hawaii, and Dad and me here, what did that make the four of us?

  18

  “Shouldn’t Abbie be doing this?” Connor cast a nervous glance at the other shoppers. I didn’t blame him. We looked a little weird, the two of us roaming the aisles of Babies R Us.

  “Don’t get me started.” With one hand, I clutched a six-pack of cloth diapers. With the other, I held open Abbie’s pregnancy book. “It says she needs twelve of these. Why does she need twelve?”

  “Beats me.” Connor fiddled with a plastic dolphin that squirted water. “Get her one of these. These are awesome.”

  Why had I thought bringing Connor would be helpful? He’d reverted to being a little kid, constantly distracted by toys and worthless items. I may as well have brought Cameron or Curtis for support. Chris—he’d have been the smart choice. At least he’d have taken this seriously.

  “Uh-oh.” Connor stashed the toy. “I can tell by your face I’m about to get in trouble.” He pressed a fingertip to the bridge of my nose, where it had wrinkled. He grinned. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to find him charming. I waved the questionable package of cloth diapers. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” He took them from me, turned them over. “What are they for, anyway? Won’t she use Pampers or whatever?”

  “I guess they’re good for stuff like spit-up.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just doing what the book says. The book says twelve.”

  “Then get both packs, but only open one. Then you can return it.”

  So maybe he wasn’t completely worthless.

  I tossed them in the cart, along with the bottles, sippy cups, hooded towels, and washcloths. It felt like we’d been here forever, yet we’d barely made a dent in the list. Babies apparently had lots of needs.

  Connor returned to his position at the head of the cart. “What’s next?”

  “A bathtub.” I looked around. “Where do you think those are?”

  “Your house didn’t come with a bathtub?”

  I fixed him with a cross look. “A baby bathtub. It goes inside the regular tub—”

  “I know what it is. I was just joking.” He pointed ahead. “They’re in that aisle. I saw them during the cloth diaper search.” He forged ahead, and I walked beside him, my head still in the book.

  “So what should we do after this?”

  “After this?” I turned the list to him—we’d crossed off five items, and there were, oh, five million left. “There won’t be an ‘after this.’ We’re never going to leave this place.”

  “Well, we don’t have to get it all today, do we? The baby’s not coming today.”

  “The baby could come any day now.” I picked up a tub shaped like a duck. “We’re about four weeks out. I packed our hospital bag last night.”

  Connor frowned. “Is it just me, or is Abbie doing squat?”

  “This is how Abbie is. When a situation gets too emotionally heavy, she checks out.”

  “That should be fun with a baby.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Personally, I like the cow tub.”

  “I’m talking about Abbie.”

  “I know.” He crouched beside me. His hand warmed my back. “I love that you want to take care of your sister, I do, but you can’t take over your sister. The baby is hers, and Abbie has to be responsible.”

  “I wish it were mine.” I wiped away the tears suddenly dripping from my eyes. “I mean, not that I wish I was having a baby, but I wish I could have it instead of Abbie. She’s too young for this. What’s she going to do for money? How’s she going to finish high school? What about—”

  “Shh.” Connor pulled me against him, although both of us were a bit wobbly, crouched there like frogs. “You don’t have to figure that stuff out. Abbie does.”

  “It’s all my fault.” Oh gosh, I was going to have an emotional breakdown right here in the baby superstore. People really would think I was pregnant. “If I hadn’t helped her sneak around with Lance, if I’d set a better example—”

  “No.” His hand clapped over my mouth. “You and Abbie made your own choices. Stop blaming yourself.”

  I sniffled. “You’d feel differently if it were Chris.”

  I sniffled. “You’d feel differently “Maybe.” He smoothed my hair.

  “You would. Of course, you’ll never know because you’re always a perfect example.”

  “Not always.”

  Even before he said anything else, I knew Jodi had entered our conversation. The shadows of last week’s fight lingered, no matter how hard I worked to forgive. No matter how much he ignored her at school.

  He glanced at me. “How are we doing?”

  “Fine.” I stood, leaving him there on the floor. I loaded the duck tub into the cart. “I think we’ve gotten all the bath stuff. On to car seats.”

  He blocked me from pushing the cart away. “This is important,” he said, his voice soft but serious.

  “I know it is. Did you know you can’t bring the baby home from the hospital without it?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  I forced myself to make eye contact, to be honest. After all, if my parents had been honest with each other, maybe our family wouldn’t be splitting apart. “I’m doing my best to get past it.”

  Connor nodded and buried his hands in his pockets. “It almost feels like it’s getting worse. You’re always doing stuff for Abbie or with your parents. We don’t go out and have fun anymore.”

  “My family needs me. I can’t just blow them off for my boyfriend.”

  Words eerily similar to the ones Mom had said to me when she wanted me to agree to Hawaii.

  “Skylar . . .” Connor’s expression made his pain obvious.

  I blew my bangs out of my face. Why shouldn’t he feel hurt? I’d basically just told him he wasn’t special. “That came out wrong. My family’s going through a thing right now. I need to be th
ere.” Then quieter, “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have them.”

  His fingers curled through mine. “You’ll always have me.”

  He said it with such firmness, such certainty, that I wondered if he was trying to convince himself too.

  Mr. Huntley returned our tests at the end of class on Friday the thirteenth. I’d felt okay about my test when I turned it in. I didn’t expect an A, but likely a B.

  I gaped at my big, ugly score. Sixty-three—a D.

  When Connor made grades like this, teachers wrote notes like “What happened?” with a little frowny face. My paper had no frowny face. Teachers expected shoddy work out of me. If I’d made an A, then I’d get the “What happened?” note.

  Connor called after me as I fled the room. He caught up with me in the hallway. “What’s going on? Did you not do well on your test?”

  “Sixty-three,” I snapped.

  “Could you slow down a little?” He huffed as he trotted alongside me. “Sixty-three isn’t horrible. There’s still lots of time left in the semester.”

  My teeth clamped into my lower lip. I really didn’t want to cry. “Used to be I wouldn’t have even cared.” That’s what really had me irked. I hadn’t given 100 percent. I could’ve studied harder, longer, and that left me dissatisfied. Something I never would’ve felt before last summer.

  I hadn’t intended for God to intrude in my schoolwork. Life plans, fine, boundaries with guys, sure, but he couldn’t stop there? Apparently he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had his finger on every aspect of my life, even a test that couldn’t hurt me much. Why couldn’t God just accept my half effort? It was more than the other seniors were giving.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said as I realized Connor continued to rationalize why the test didn’t matter.

  He shut his mouth.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just frustrated with myself.”

  “It’s fine.” He paused. We’d reached the hallway he took to art class, but instead of the usual kiss, he just stood there. “Wanna talk about plans for tomorrow night?”

  Wanna talk about plans for Right. Valentine’s Day.