by Kieran Scott
Besides, I’d promised her I wouldn’t tell Jake, but I’d never said a thing about Will.
I stepped up next to the pack of guys. They stopped talking to look me up and down in my hugely sexy baggy jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt.
“Will?” I said.
He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, clearing away the red Gatorade mustache he was sporting.
“Hey, Ally,” he said. “What’s up?”
I clenched my jaw. “We need to talk.”
ally
“I can’t believe I never realized that Will was the real father,” Annie said as she stood on her tiptoes on the top platform of a rickety step stool in her basement. The whole thing leaned to the left and David and I both lunged to steady it, but she didn’t even notice. She just tacked the end of the colorfully striped streamer into the corner near the ceiling, then jumped down.
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s because you’re not evil like some people,” I said, tossing the streamer wrapper into the trash.
“Um, yes she is,” David said.
Annie picked up a stuffed jelly bean and threw it at his head. It was Saturday afternoon, and the three of us were decorating for her birthday party that night. Annie had decided on a candy theme, so we’d spent the last hour in her basement stringing rainbow-colored streamers, sticking huge paper M&M’s, lollipops, and peppermints to the walls, and filling up a zillion colorful balloons. She’d blown her entire paycheck on employee-discounted lollipops, Hershey’s kisses, peanut M&M’s, Jolly Ranchers, jelly beans, and caramels, which overflowed from bowls crammed onto the bookshelves and tables. It was only five o’clock and I was already so hopped up on mindlessly consumed sugar I felt like I was having a heart attack.
“I can’t believe you actually invited Chloe to your party,” I said, filling another balloon with helium from the rented tank. “What’s that about?”
Annie shrugged, turning away from me with a paper M&M and some tacks. “Nothing.”
My eyes met David’s across the room. Uh-oh. “That was not a nothing nothing,” he said. “That was a something nothing.”
“Annie, please don’t tell me you’ve got, like, a bucket of green slime set up for her or something like that,” I said. As much as I hated Chloe right now, she didn’t need any more public humiliation. She just needed to tell the truth already.
“What, like she doesn’t deserve it?” Annie countered, shoving the tack through the paper and into the wall.
“Annie!” David and I said in unison.
“Oh my God, no. I don’t have a bucket of slime, okay?” Annie said, raising her hands in surrender. “The truth is I sent out the invites in the five minutes between everyone finding out about her quote-unquote shameful situation, and us figuring out the Will thing. I kind of felt … bad for her.”
My jaw dropped. “You felt bad for Chloe Appleby?”
Annie hung her head. “I know, I know. I could flog myself.”
“Whatever,” David said, taking the filled balloon from my hand and tying it off. “She’s just one person. She’s not gonna make or break the party.”
“True dat,” Annie replied.
They bumped fists and got back to work on the streamers as I busied myself with balloons, wondering if Will had talked to Chloe yet. He’d been stunned when I told him the news yesterday in the hall. He’d said he asked Chloe about it himself the night of the bonfire and she’d sworn the baby wasn’t his. Big shock there. I couldn’t believe how casually she was going around lying to people she was supposed to care about. And now, tonight, Will, Jake, Chloe, and I were going to be in the same place. Together. Like four pieces of a social time bomb that, if assembled just the right way, could take out the whole party.
David and Annie laughed over something and I chewed on my lip. It was a good thing Annie lived for Crestie scandal. Because I had a feeling that I’d already set up the best birthday present the girl could ever wish for. Big-Time Drama.
ally
“The mom makes movie soundtracks for a living,” Jake said that night as David’s band, Controlled Chaos, screeched into a heavy-metal version of happy birthday. “Who knew you could even do something that cool as a job? And the guy coaches soccer. It was, like, meant to be.”
“Yeah. I guess,” I muttered.
On the other side of the room, Will stood with a few of his friends, his body rigid as he watched the band. Now and then I caught him glancing over his shoulder at us, and every time he did I tensed. Had he talked to Chloe yet? What if he said something to Jake before Chloe had a chance to?
Why, why, why had I gotten myself even deeper into this mess?
“I wonder where Chloe is,” Jake said, checking his watch, his knee bending and straightening awkwardly to the beat. Well, roughly to the beat, anyway. He checked the stairs, which were partially obscured by a million strands of plastic M&M’s beads. “I thought she’d be here by now.”
“I just can’t believe Annie invited her,” I said, reaching for another handful of chocolate-covered pretzels.
Jake plucked one from my hand and popped it into his mouth. It made me think of Lincoln, and I suddenly wondered what he was doing right now. What life would be like if I’d kissed him that night at Faith’s. It was so weird how I could be seriously considering kissing someone one day, and then a few weeks later have zero contact with him. Just thinking about it made me blush. Luckily Jake didn’t notice. Or if he did, he didn’t ask about it.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Why not what?”
“Why can’t you believe Annie invited Chloe?”
I blinked. Was it possible that he was that clueless to what went on around him? Guys and oblivion. They seemed to go hand in hand.
“Because they’ve always hated each other,” I said with a serious “duh” tone.
“Really? Why?” Jake said, his brow knit.
I just rolled my eyes and ate another pretzel.
Just then the door to the basement slammed closed and a few people flinched. Minutes later, Chloe came teetering down the stairs, clinging to the railing as if for dear life. Even hugely pregnant, she was more stylishly dressed than half the girls in the room. She wore a black bias-cut skirt and a hot pink sweater with a boat neck and fluttery sleeves. Her skin was dewy with makeup and her light brown hair had been curled and pulled back from her face, just a few tendrils scooping around her cheeks. Jake stepped away from the wall at her arrival and she brightened at the sight of him, fluttering a wave in our direction. Looking for an open pathway through the crowded basement, she turned sideways to try to slide over, but she’d barely taken a step when Will was right in front of her.
My heart hit my throat and choked off my air supply. The music was loud enough that I couldn’t hear every word, but not so loud that a few didn’t make it through. Words like:
“Tell me?”
“Lying?”
and
“Loved you.”
Suddenly Chloe’s skin wasn’t quite so dewy anymore.
“What’s his deal?” Jake asked me, his nostrils kind of flaring.
Chloe shot us a helpless look, then reached for Will’s hand. He yanked it away and, at that moment, David’s rendition of “Happy Birthday” finally came to a wailing, pounding end.
“Just tell me! Am I the father or not?!” Will shouted.
“What?” Jake blurted.
The basement was so silent you could have heard a jelly bean drop. Will looked around, clearly embarrassed, and Chloe started shaking.
“Chloe?” Jake said, walking toward her. Everyone got out of his way. “What’s going on?”
Chloe put one hand on her stomach and reached for Jake with the other. He automatically supported her arm, which it looked like she very much needed. Annie watched the action hungrily from the corner, and … was that a video camera in her hand? I felt so hot I thought I might faint.
“I can’t,” Chloe said. “I can’t—”
“Just tel
l me, Chloe,” Will said quietly, gently. “If I’m the father … you have to tell me.”
“Dude. Back the fuck off,” Jake said.
“Maybe you’re the one who should back off, dude,” Will said sarcastically, his face reddening. “I was with her for three months. I was in love with her. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the father, asshole,” Jake shot back.
And Chloe just stood there. Shaking. She looked like she was about to faint. Some people might have enjoyed this—might have enjoyed watching Chloe squirm after everything she’d done. Some people might have even relished it. But apparently that just wasn’t me, because all I could think about was that this was my fault. At least this part of it. I’d brought this awful scene—the whispers, the staring, the suspense—to life. And now I had to do something to make it stop before it got any worse.
“Chloe,” I said loudly. “Say something.”
Everyone turned to stare at me. Everyone but Chloe. Chloe was looking at the floor. The questions, the fear, in Jake’s eyes nearly killed me. Slowly Chloe drew her arm away from Jake.
“No, Jake,” she said finally. “You’re not the father.”
“What?” Jake breathed.
Will brought his hand to his forehead.
“It was Will. It’s Will’s baby,” Chloe whispered, her voice catching.
“Holy shit.” Will sat down on the nearest chair, bringing both hands to his mouth. “Holy, holy, holy shit.”
“But you said …” Jake looked around at the practically drooling audience, then lowered his voice, leaning toward Chloe’s ear. “You said you two never—”
Will snorted. “You said that?” he asked Chloe. “And you believed that?” he said to Jake.
Jake went white. Almost gray.
“I’m not the father?” he said, stepping away from her.
“Jake, I am so sorry,” Chloe said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I wanted to tell you so many times. At that first sonogram, I almost did, but I—”
Jake backed away farther, his heel knocking into an old CD rack and rattling everything on the shelves. “I don’t believe this.”
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said again, quietly, looking at the floor. “I don’t know what to say.”
But it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to say. Because Jake was already gone. He took the basement steps in two leaps and slammed the door so hard a dozen strands of beads slapped to the floor, bursting from their strings and rolling over the tile.
That was when I knew for sure I was right. Jake had wanted to be the father. His heart was broken. And there was nothing I could do to unbreak it.
jake
I found my mother and father sitting in the kitchen with HGTV on the mini flat-screen, eating Thai takeout. My legs felt stiff as I walked in and tossed my keys onto the counter. My fingertips tingled. Everything looked dull, from the marble counters to the wooden cabinets to the glare of the lights reflected in the sliding glass doors.
I was not the father. It was over. I was free.
“Jake.” My dad drew my name out slowly, his fork suspended over his noodles. He looked at me like he thought I might crack. “You’re home early.”
“Everything okay?” my mother asked.
I pressed my fingertips into the top of the island. Pressed down as hard as I could. Gritted my teeth. My eyes felt like they were about to pop. I actually thought I might cry.
My mother and father exchanged a concerned look. She got up and came over to me. Her hand was on my hand.
“Jake, honey? What’s wrong?”
I just stared. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What was wrong with me? This was not what freedom was supposed to feel like. In my pocket, my phone vibrated for the hundredth time since I’d left the party.
“I’m not the father,” I said. My eyes flicked to hers. I watched them flood with hope, and I wanted to hit something.
“What?” my father said, standing.
My mother’s hands fluttered to cover her mouth.
“I’m not the father,” I said again, the words like sour milk in my mouth. I backed up from the island. “I’m not the father. Some other guy is.”
“Oh my God! Jake! Thank God!” my mother exclaimed.
“I knew it. I knew we should have forced that paternity test,” my father said, standing next to her now. “We could have known this so much sooner.”
Suddenly he was what I wanted to hit. Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he get that none of that mattered? I was not the father. The baby was not mine. That was all that mattered. I turned around and started out the door of the kitchen.
“Jake? What’s wrong? This is fantastic news!” my mother shouted after me.
I had a zillion comebacks on the tip of my tongue. Of course they thought it was good news. Of course they did. They never understood why I cared. Why I wanted to go to the doctor with her. Why it mattered. They never got it. They never fucking got it.
I tore up the stairs and into my room, slamming my door as hard as I could. Staring at me from the center of my classic sports car calendar was the date of Chloe’s next doctor’s appointment. I ripped the calendar down from the wall and hurled it across the room. I whipped my coat off and threw that, too. What I wanted to do more than anything was go back to Annie’s house and find Chloe. I wanted to find her and shake her and ask her why she’d done this to me. How long had she known? Why had she made me be there for her, made me care about this? What the hell was she thinking?
I covered my face with both hands and tried to think. I tried to see this how my parents saw it. I tried to focus on what was supposed to be positive.
The baby wasn’t mine. So what? It was never going to be mine anyway. It wasn’t like I’d been planning on taking it and raising it and being its dad. The second it was born, those people we’d met this afternoon were going to take it away and I was never going to see it again anyway. So who the fuck cared?
And now … now I wasn’t even going to have to be there. I wouldn’t have to be at the hospital, I wouldn’t have to hold Chloe’s hand, I wouldn’t have to see her cry. I was off the hook. That was Will Halloran’s problem now. That baby in the sonograms, the one I’d seen roll over that day, the one I’d wondered about being a soccer player like me …
It wasn’t going to be. Because it had nothing to do with me.
My phone vibrated again. I took it out of my pocket and threw that across the room too. Then I flung myself down on my bed face-first, covered my head with my pillow, and tried to breathe.
Tried as hard as I could not to be the pussy who cried at being let off the hook.
ally
On Sunday afternoon, Chloe was curled up in her bed, half under the covers with graham cracker crumbs scattered across her chest, watching The Vampire Diaries on DVD with the drapes closed. She looked over at me and squinted as I opened the door.
“Can you please close that?” she said, her voice whiny. “It’s too bright.”
This was very not good.
I closed the door behind me. She lifted a remote from the bed, paused the picture on a highly flattering half-naked shot of Damon Salvatore, and let her hand drop again. Crumbs bounced off her pink flowered comforter and onto the hardwood floor.
“So are you in training to be a vampire?” I joked lamely.
Chloe sighed and brushed more crumbs off her belly. “I think I shouldn’t go to parties anymore. Parties and me don’t mesh well.” Pressing her hands down at her sides, she shimmied her way up into a sort of half-seated position.
I swallowed hard, my guilt trying to choke off my air supply. “It’s my fault, Chloe. I told Will.”
“I know. He told me,” she said, averting her eyes.
“I’m so sorry—” we both said at the same time.
I stopped talking. She laughed ruefully. “Me first?” she suggested, raising her eyebrows.
“Okay.”
I sat down at the end of her bed. A small amount of light peek
ed in from a crack between two curtains and emanated from the TV screen behind me. I felt tense. Like I shouldn’t get comfortable. I was so shocked she had let me in that it was like I was afraid to make any sudden movements—like I might startle her into recalling that I was the enemy. So I just sat there, half-turned toward her, my legs dangling awkwardly toward the floor.
“I’m sorry for what I did to Jake … and to you,” she began, picking up a crumb and crushing it between her thumb and forefinger. She kept her eyes on the bedspread. “It was wrong. I know it was. I just … didn’t know what else to do. Will and I had broken up already when I found out about the baby, and Jake … he’s a good guy. He’s a friend. He’s … I don’t know … safe? It felt safer than … the alternative.”
The alternative being the truth.
But I didn’t want to get angry again. I was tired of being angry. I wanted to give her a chance to explain. I did. Because I wanted a chance too.
“And then, all of a sudden, the whole thing was out of control,” Chloe continued, her eyes filling rapidly. “And everyone was talking about me. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone had something to say—most of it horrible. And meanwhile my back hurts and my ass is, like, huge, and I’ve got gas all the time, and my boobs? My boobs started leaking last week! Right in the middle of French class!”
My jaw dropped. Leaking boobs? What the hell was that about?
“I know!” Chloe said off my expression. “This whole thing is disgusting and I just want it to be over.” She covered her eyes and sniffled. “But at the same time, I keep catching myself talking to it—to the baby—like it’s in the room with me. And sometimes I think … I can’t wait to meet him or her. And then I realize I can’t. Because everyone says if I do, I’ll want to keep it and I can’t … I can’t … keep it.”
Chloe hiccupped and then started crying in earnest. My heart felt like it was tearing to pieces, and not in some neat, ordered way. More like some animal was going at it with its claws.
“It was so much … I just couldn’t deal,” she said through her tears. “I couldn’t deal with Jake and Will and the truth. I just couldn’t.”
