by Tori Rigby
“Well, you did take the co-captain spot.”
“Ugh!” I stormed away before I could smack him and crossed the parking lot, heading home. So what if it was a twenty-minute walk? Anything was better than sitting in classrooms full of jerks. Maybe I could transfer to some other school—or finish high school at home. It wasn’t like I had to worry about college anymore, not if I wanted to raise a baby on my own.
I’d gone three blocks when the anger subsided enough for humiliation and despair to set in. I’d known it for days, but the fact that I couldn’t go to NYU, that I wasn’t going to become a doctor, finally hit me. Not to mention, I had become the laughingstock of River Springs Prep. It wouldn’t be long before the news got back to my mom.
And now Carter and Heather had betrayed me. I was alone. Helpless and utterly alone.
Stopping in someone’s front yard, I screamed, stomping my feet on the ground. I punched my stomach again and again. Why did you have to ruin my life? I fell on the grass, bringing my knees up to my chin, and wrapped my arms around my legs. It wasn’t the baby’s fault that my life was completely screwed up.
It was mine.
I wept into my knees, scrunching my eyes until they hurt, and balled my hands into fists. A loud motor echoed down the street. Next thing I knew, the driver stopped in front of me. I looked up as a rusty, brown truck parallel parked, and then Neil climbed out and walked toward me.
“Oh, God.” I dropped my head back to my knees.
“Get up, Hamilton.”
Lifting my head, I glared at him and the hand he extended to me.
He flexed his fingers. “Get up.”
“Why would I ever get into that truck with you?”
“Hey, there’s no stranger danger here. Plus, I’m thinking you probably don’t want to go home right now, but you don’t want to go back to school. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting on some poor old lady’s front yard, flashing your bright purple underwear.”
My cheeks burned, and my legs dropped until they were flat against the grass. I’d forgotten I was wearing my cheerleading skirt—and that I didn’t have on spanks beneath it. Unless I had a game to go to, granny panties remained in my dresser at all times.
“So, what? You’re here to help me play hooky?” I asked.
“Exactly.” The corners of Neil’s baby-blue eyes crinkled as a mischievous grin spread across his face.
I remembered now what had drawn me to him in the first place. He was incredibly attractive. Tall, dark, and handsome. He wasn’t as muscular as Carter, but neither is Ian Somerhalder, and he’s freakin’ sexy. But bad boys have a bad reputation for a reason, and Neil’s was pretty dirty. Getting into a car with him was something I had told myself I’d never do.
Until now.
I hated to admit he was right, but going back to school was out of the question. I also didn’t want to go home. Thursdays were Mom’s shortest days, and I’d already spent two wallowing in my room. With a sigh, I took Neil’s hand, and he pulled me to my feet.
He led me to his truck without a word. Inside, Owen Danielson, Neil’s best friend and fellow pothead, snored in the passenger’s seat. Neil pushed him over. Owen sprung awake, flinging his arms like Kermit.
“Change of plans. I’m dropping you off at your house,” Neil said.
“Why?” Then Owen spotted me standing behind Neil. “Oh.” Owen wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, in that case, I won’t coc—”
“Move, shithead.”
Owen laughed and slid to the middle. With a grimace, I hopped into the passenger’s seat, scrunching my nose at the intense tobacco smell.
“Hello,” he said, his voice laced with a cartoonish, hey-baby tone.
I rolled my eyes and squeezed my book bag to my chest.
“See, not so bad,” Neil said, climbing into the truck.
“Not so bad? It reeks in here,” I replied.
“You’ll get used to it, Princess.” He winked.
My hand twitched as Owen laughed. Did Neil have to be so arrogant?
Neil got back on the road, and I fought the urge to plug my ears as the boys screeched along with the heavy metal music blaring from the speakers. Finally, Neil dropped Owen at a swanky house in the outskirts of River Springs. I wasted no time smacking the off button on Neil’s radio.
“Hey, in this truck, driver picks the music,” Neil said.
“Not when there’s a pregnant girl in the passenger’s seat with bleeding ear drums.”
He smirked and merged the truck onto the expressway, taking us toward downtown Denver. He turned the radio back on but decreased the volume and switched it from screamo to classic rock.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You wanted to play hooky; I’m going to show you how.”
“You do this often.” It wasn’t a question. His relaxation with skipping school made it clear.
He shrugged. “School’s a time waster. As long as you get the grades, no one cares where you are.”
“Aren’t you always in detention?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m flattered you watch me.”
I made a disgusted sound in the back of my throat and, with a roll of my eyes, turned to look out the window. Why had I thought this would be a good idea?
“Look,” he said, “you say the word, and I’ll take you home. But today, I’m skipping school for you ‘cause you looked like you needed a break. So, climb off your high horse, and let me show you a good time.”
I glared at him. “I am not on a high horse.”
“Oh yeah? Then let’s play a game. You manage to keep your eyes from rolling in that pretty head of yours for twenty minutes, and I’ll buy you lunch.”
On instinct—and not five seconds later—I rolled them. It wasn’t until he laughed that I realized I’d done it. My cheeks warmed. Twice today I’d been called out for being stuck up. And, twice, they’d been right. When had I gotten this bad?
“I’ll get off my high horse,” I mumbled.
Neil cupped a hand behind his ear and pretended to strain to hear me. “What was that?”
“Oh, just drive.”
He smiled, his blue eyes sparkling over his lopsided grin. My chest fluttered. Idiot. He was Beth Donaghue’s older brother, my ex-boyfriend, and the guy with a black book thicker than a dictionary. While I was using him today to keep from going home, even being his friend was a bad idea. After today, I’d stay as far away from him as possible.
Fifteen minutes later, we entered the city. After a few turns, Neil pulled his truck into the Denver Zoo.
“Seriously? This is where you’re taking me?” I asked.
He maneuvered his truck into a parking spot and then sat back in his seat. “Do you have a better idea? The zoo kills hours, cursing out caged animals is loads of fun, and they have a shit ton of fried food.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Pulling the door open, I jumped out and slammed it behind me.
“Hey! Don’t hurt Matilda!” Neil said.
I raised an eyebrow. “You named it?”
“Don’t you name your cars?”
“I don’t have a car. But I wouldn’t name it, anyway. It’s a car.”
Neil grasped his chest and made a sound like he’d been wounded. “Cars do have feelings, you know.”
Shaking my head, I approached the ticket counter and pulled my wallet out of my purse.
Neil shoved me gently. “You’re not paying.”
“What? I can pay for my own ticket.”
He grinned at the woman in the booth. “Two tickets, please.”
I crossed my arms. Who knew Neil Donaghue was a gentleman? Though, come to think of it, wasn’t this how he tried to get into girls’ pants? Flattery and chivalry?
He handed me a ticket, and I followed him through the gate. I had to hold my breath as we passed food carts and restrooms. The mixture of fried food and sewage was nauseating. It wasn’t until we passed the In
formation Desk and grabbed a map that the smell started to dwindle and my stomach stopped churning.
“Looks like there’s some sea lion thing at 2:30,” Neil said. “That’ll kill some time, but it’s four hours from now. What’s your favorite animal? We can go there first.” He was like a little kid, his eyes wide with excitement as he surveyed the map.
“The polar bears, I guess.”
“Sweet. They’re to the left. We’ll go that way.”
He took off without waiting for me to agree. Forcing my eyeballs to stay put, I followed closely, not wanting to look like a loner.
Neil got distracted by the felines on our way to the Northern Shores section and spent a good ten minutes shouting your-momma jokes in a ridiculous effort to get them to wake up. If I wasn’t so worried about getting in trouble, I might’ve laughed at him. When it was obvious the felines “had no shame,” as Neil said, we made our way past the arctic foxes and river otters to where the polar bears lived. Two cubs played, chasing each other in a game of tag.
Neil leaned over to me. “What do you call a polar bear wearing earmuffs?”
I caught his stare. The way he looked at me reminded me of a five-year-old on Christmas morning. “What?”
“Anything you want. They can’t hear you.”
I shook my head to hide my traitorous smile.
“There’s also one about a bear with white fur and lederhosen,” Neil started.
“Let me guess—a polka bear?”
Neil squinted at me, crossed his arms, and then turned back to the polar bears. “Well, I guess that one’s kinda lame.”
Smiling again, I watched the two cubs chase each other around the platform and into the water. They were having an absolute blast.
If only I could remember what it felt like to have no cares in the world.
chapter seven
For the next few hours, we wandered the park, staring at camels and elephants and giraffes. Neil continued to crack jokes until I finally couldn’t help but laugh at every one, and when we stopped for lunch, he refused to let me pay for my own meal. I had to admit, as much as I didn’t want to, I was having a great day.
“Here, I got you a pop,” Neil said as he sat across the table from me.
“I can’t have caffeine.” I frowned. A good day could only last so long.
“Oh. Well, take mine. It’s Sprite.”
“You don’t have to give me your drink. I’ll be fine.”
“Andie, just take the damn thing.”
I snatched it out of his hand.
Neil slid my pop to his side of the table. “See, now that wasn’t so bad.”
Glaring at him, I stuffed a fry into my mouth, stifling our conversation. For ten minutes, we ate in silence—then my appetite disappeared. Here I was, pretending everything was normal when it wasn’t. Not even close. I had no right to be parading around a zoo, laughing on a sort-of-date with Neil. This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
My bottom lip quivered against my will. Crap. I’d read in the pamphlet that, starting soon, some women struggled to control their emotions. But right here, right now, was the worst possible moment for a mood swing to go Tarzan-ing. I chugged my drink, attempting to keep the tears at bay.
Neil saw right through me. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have cursed at you.” He handed me a napkin.
Taking it, I wiped away a traitorous tear. “It’s not you. In fact, today’s been surprisingly great. Which is the problem.”
“How is having fun the problem?”
“I have no right to be. Not me.”
“Because you’re pregnant?”
I looked away, casting my gaze to the floor.
Neil shook his head. “So, you made a mistake. That doesn’t mean your life is over or that you can’t enjoy it.”
I glared at him. “I’m going to have a baby, Neil. My life is over.”
“You don’t have to keep it.”
“I can’t get an abortion!” A few heads turned in our direction, and I slunk in my chair. I hadn’t meant to shout.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and spoke softly, “I didn’t figure. I’m talking about adoption. Why do you have to be the one who raises it?”
“I created it. I should have to deal with it. I’m not going to pawn it off on someone because I made a mistake. Besides, who are you to suggest what I should do? You don’t really know me.”
The muscles in Neil’s jaw twitched. He took a deep breath before speaking, his expression hard. “Some kids would be better off if they were raised by parents who didn’t consider them a burden.”
I stared at him, trying to understand where that had come from. His words were packed full of emotions; I’d hit a nerve. Neil sat back in his chair, his face complete stone.
“I’m sorry.” Didn’t know why I felt like I needed to apologize, but I did.
He broke from his statuesque position, but his demeanor remained icy. “I don’t need your sympathy, Hamilton. I’m going to take a leak. I’ll meet you at the exit.”
Jumping out of his seat, Neil stormed away, stopping just long enough to toss his entire tray into a trashcan.
No longer caring about my food, I stood, dumping what remained of my lunch in the garbage. I made my way out of the cafeteria, stopping only to brace myself in the doorway when a wave of sobs threatened me. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and willed the tears to stop. I’d been able to control my emotions yesterday. I would do it again today.
Calm. Down. Now. I took two more deep breaths.
“Are you okay?” an elderly man asked from behind me.
I opened my eyes. The tears were gone. Turning to him, I said, “Yes, thanks,” then stormed through the park, determined to get home and away from Neil Donaghue. For good.
I didn’t get far, however. As I neared the exit of the park, Neil was braced against the wall next to the men’s room, one arm behind his back. His other hand held a cigarette to his lips.
Stopping a few feet away from him, I crossed my arms. “Put that out.”
He blew out a puff of smoke. “What’s the magic word?”
I glared at him. With a smirk, he dropped the cigarette on the asphalt and smashed the tip with his toes.
“You shouldn’t smoke,” I said.
“Around a pregnant chick? I know. Which is why I was doing it here rather than in the truck with you.”
“No, because it’s bad for you.”
“So is holding a computer in your lap. Makes your balls shrivel up. You going to tell me I can’t do that, too?”
I made a disgusted sound and stomped toward the exit. Neil, with his long legs, stayed right on my heels, laughing.
“Do you have a funny bone?” he asked.
“Shut up.”
“Oh, come on. I know you were laughing earlier, before I got all pissy. Which I apologize for. So, let me make it up to you.” He grabbed my wrist before I could walk through the gate.
I turned, ready to smack him, when a stuffed polar bear met my face. Was that what he’d been holding behind his back?
“Did you buy this for me?” I asked.
“Well, I am handing it to you.”
I took it from him. “Why?”
Sticking his hands in his pockets, he shrugged. “I told you. I was an ass earlier. And after this morning, I thought you could use something to make you smile. You’re pretty when you smile.”
Neil stiffened and pursed his lips, scratching the back of his neck and playing it off like he meant to say that.
I took a moment to study him. I’d known Neil since elementary school and then went out with him for a month. Flirtation, I expected. Compliments? Not so much.
My cheeks warmed, and I squeezed the polar bear. “Well, thank you. And, I guess, I should apologize to you for being a bitch.” I mumbled the last word.
Neil tipped his head back and laughed. “Oh, man, Hamilton. We’ve got to work on your language. Sure you don’t want to stay for the seal show?�
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I pressed my lips together. If I went home, I’d have to explain to Mom why I didn’t stay for the whole day. But I also didn’t want to end up walking in through the door late. Either way, I was going to have to come up with a lie. The longer I waited, the better. Might as well stay to see the show.
“Fine,” I said.
He grinned, his beautiful, blue eyes creasing in the corners, and my heartbeat tripped. Turning my gaze away from him, I headed toward the primate section and shook my head. Remember, Andie: You aren’t the first girl he’s brought to the zoo.
Neil was still laughing at the animal handler’s accident when we reached his truck. After demonstrating how gentle and friendly seals were, the female had turned on her handler, barking at him and chasing him around the stage. The handler’s face was wide with terror and humiliation, and when he fell in the water, the entire crowd burst out laughing, me included. But no one found it funnier than Neil. When the seal began her attack, Neil pulled out his cell phone and started recording, talking about how many views he was going to get when he posted the video on YouTube.
“The poor guy was humiliated,” I said, climbing into the passenger’s seat.
“I know. That’s the best part.” Neil started the truck, and it sputtered to life.
I shook my head as he pulled out of the parking lot, but a smile lingered on my face.
We drove in silence through the city, Neil’s classic rock station filling the vehicle. He tapped his fingers to the beat on his steering wheel. Then “Carry On Wayward Son” came on, and he spun the volume dial with excitement. I fought the urge to plug my ears. At least it wasn’t screamo, like earlier.
“Man, I love this song.” He sang along like he’d written it. His voice was really good. Like, professional singer—maybe even Broadway—good.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” I said.
“Hey, I have many talents. Music, poetry, rolling the perfect joint.”
I scrunched my nose. “Do you really smoke pot?”
He smiled. “Nah, but everyone thinks I do, so don’t blow my secret.”
“Why do you let people think that kind of stuff about you?”
