So Over It (16 page)

“Sorry, Mom,” Connor said.

“Sorry,” I echoed. Guilt bit at me, even though it was obvious we hadn’t been doing anything. Connor sat across from me. Only our fingers touched.

Amy took a step away, then hesitated. She looked between us. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said as Connor said, “No.”

We looked at each other, then Connor said, “Or at least, we’re working on it.”

“Okay.” She hesitated again. “Holler if you need me.”

I sighed as we heard her walk downstairs. “I love your mom.”

“You want to talk to her about this?” Connor asked. “I’m sure she’d—”

“No.”

“But I bet she’d—”

“No.”

Now he sighed. “Okay. What about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how about talking to me about it?”

I squirmed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just . . .” I looked at him, wonderful, innocent Connor. I didn’t want to shed any more light on who I used to be. I wanted to close the book on her and move on. Why couldn’t I? Why should I be forced to remember everything? Maybe there was a reason I couldn’t. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to remember.

I looked at our entwined fingers rather than his face. “I don’t want to dredge up everything. I don’t want to be forced back there.”

“But maybe”—he touched my fingers to his mouth—“it’s the only way you’ll be free to move forward.”

17

“Surprise!” Dad whipped the blindfold off Abbie.

She stood there staring, her face frozen in a smile. “Wow. Thank you.” But both her voice and her smile wobbled.

I caught Mom and Dad glancing at each other over her head.

“It’s got everything,” Dad said, now doing the hard sell. “Leather interior, navigation system, speakers so good you’ll lose your hearing by the time you’re my age.”

“It’s great,” Abbie said as fat tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes. “And it’s so . . . shiny.”

I looked at the car. Dad hadn’t skimped a penny. This baby was tricked out. As tricked out as any silver Toyota Camry sedan could be. Complete with an installed car seat.

“I don’t mean to be crying,” Abbie said, wiping away tears. “I’m not even sure why I am.”

I gave the car another glance. I could venture a guess.

“Here you guys did this incredibly nice thing for me, bought me a beautiful, expensive present, and . . .” Abbie said more, but her tears strangled her words beyond recognition. When Mom offered her arms, Abbie fell into them, sobbing.

“It’s okay,” Mom said. She shot Dad a look, as if this whole mess was his fault. Dad frowned at the car, clearly unsure about where he’d gone wrong. I patted his shoulder with my free hand—Owen occupied the other—but he didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s stupid,” Abbie said. “After what I did, I don’t even deserve a birthday gift, and—”

“Nonsense,” Mom said, her mouth a firm line.

Abbie sniffled. “It’s a perfectly good car.”

“Perfectly good?” Dad said. “She’s brand new. She’s beautiful. I don’t understand what the problem is.” He watched the two of them, waiting for an answer. “Well?”

“Not now, Paul,” Mom said.

“Want to know what kind of car I got for my sixteenth birthday?” he said. “I didn’t. I didn’t get my first car until I left for college, and that’s because I worked whenever I wasn’t at school and saved every blasted dime—”

“Enough,” Mom snapped as Abbie started up again.

“He’s right,” Abbie sobbed. “He’s right. I’m ungrateful.”

I smoothed Owen’s hair and watched him blink at his bawling mother.

“He didn’t mean it like it sounded,” Mom said in an attempt to soothe Abbie.

“I didn’t mean it?” Dad sounded even more irritated. “Don’t tell my daughter what I did or did not mean.”

Mom shot him a look, a “shut up” kind of look.

My parents, the great communicators.

I cleared my throat. “I think what’s going on”—they turned to me—“is Abbie’s just trying to deal with not having a . . . normal car.”

“A normal car?” Dad said. “What’s more normal than a Toyota Camry? I see these things on the road all the time.”

“Being driven by a sixteen-year-old?”

Dad blinked. “Well, no.” And then it seemed to dawn on him. He turned to his weeping daughter. “Abbie, I assumed you’d prefer something like this. A two-door car with a baby is no fun. That’s what we had when Skylar was born, and . . . Well, I wasn’t thinking about how you might feel about a sedan.”

No surprise. The psyche of high school girls wasn’t exactly my father’s expertise. When Abbie and I were little, he’d get down on the floor and wrestle with us. He’d let us style his hair and then drink “tea” with our dolls. But around the time I started needing Tampax, he stopped knowing how to interact with me.

“You’re right.” Abbie wiped at her face, smearing her mascara. She’d been all made up and ready to hop in her new car and head to school. “You’re absolutely right. I need four doors, and Toyotas are great cars. It’s fine. It’s great.”

Dad hesitated. “We can go look at other cars. Or other colors—”

Abbie shook her head. “This makes the most sense. It’s just me . . . adjusting, I guess.” She took Owen from me and hugged him close. “Not that I’d give him up, but . . .”

“I know.” Mom draped her arms around Abbie and Owen. “Trust me, I know.”

It set off a strange mix of emotions inside me, watching as they bonded over an unexpected birth. As if Owen and I had plotted to come along early and ruin their lives. But I suppressed my hurt feelings. After all, Abbie didn’t need me sulking on her sixteenth birthday. Like the day wouldn’t be tough enough. A rocky night with Owen, summer school, no boyfriend, and a brand-new car that may as well have been a minivan. Not even a birthday party to look forward to.

“I should go,” Abbie said with a heavy sigh. She returned Owen to me, but he didn’t seem to notice. Abbie frowned. “I know I gripe on the days he wants only me, but sometimes it’d be nice if he cried just a little bit.”

“Don’t wish evil on your babysitters,” I said.

Abbie wrapped her bare arms around Dad’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy.”

His face creased with a frown my sister couldn’t see. “Happy birthday, little girl.”

We stood there and watched as she adjusted the seat, turned the ignition in her new car, and backed down the drive. She grinned and waved before putting the Camry in drive and heading for school.

“You should’ve gotten her a Jeep or something,” Mom said as Abbie turned off our street. “Something with four doors, but still sporty.”

Dad sighed. “She’ll adjust. It just wasn’t what she expected.”

“But when you buy an expensive gift like that, you want them to like it.”

“Then maybe there’s something wrong with our parenting,” Dad said, “that we raised a kid who wouldn’t appreciate a brand-new car.”

Mom gaped at him. Clearly that hadn’t been the right response.

Before they could get into it, I turned and carried Owen back into the house. I cuddled him close to me, still unable to shake the feeling that I’d been unwanted, a disappointment. “Not you, pal.” I pressed my cheek against his. “We want you.”

About a week ago, Mom had invited the Ross family to join us for Abbie’s birthday dinner. It’d seemed like a harmless idea, something to make Abbie feel special since all her stupid, catty friends had abandoned her. They’d been strangely excited about Owen before he arrived, had enjoyed buying him adorable yet impractical clothes. They visited in the hospital and took turns holding him, but now that the reality of his existence kept Abbie from being much of a sixteen-year-old girl, even the most faithful of her friends had fallen away. And I couldn’t believe I could now add Chris to that list.

Maybe it was stupid to think a couple of fifteen-year-olds could make it, but I always thought Abbie and Chris would. I mean, somebody from high school has to, right? Like Brian and Amy Ross. And the idea of Chris breaking up with my sister . . . I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Connor murmured in my ear as we ate.

I turned. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at Chris all night.” He grinned. “I’m getting a little jealous.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it.” I pushed my baby carrots around on my plate. Since running into Aaron on Friday, I hadn’t had much of an appetite. Go figure.

Chris glanced at me and shifted in his seat. He murmured something to Abbie, who shrugged. How could they act so normal around each other? After our breakup, Connor and I had never felt comfortable around each other.

“Skylar, any updates on your college plans?” Amy asked as she dished herself more mashed potatoes. “You’re not still thinking nursing, are you?”

Abbie snickered. “Yeah, she’d be a real comfort to her patients.”

Last winter, I’d briefly entertained the idea of becoming a nurse. I’d even declared it my major at Johnson County Community College. But my dreams of a noble profession died when Owen came along. When the anesthesiologist had given Abbie her epidural, I’d fainted. It left a nasty bruise on my forehead and my pride.

“I’ve given up that idea.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what I want to do.”

Everyone but Cameron and Curtis stared at me. Obviously, I’d said something wrong.

“What?” I said.

Mom sighed and looked at Amy. “See what I mean?”

Amy just smiled.

“Hello?” I said. “What’s going on?”

No one answered. Finally, Mom took a deep breath. “I think we’re all just confused about why you’re not pursuing what you love and excel at. Fashion. Design.”

I poked at my carrots some more. “Let’s not go there.”

“I agree,” Abbie said with a cheeky grin. “Tonight’s about me. We talk about Skylar enough the other 364 days of the year.”

When everyone else laughed, I forced a smile. I appreciated the diversion, but what was with Abbie these days? She had a snarky comment for every ounce of attention I received. Like she didn’t get enough being sixteen and having a baby.

We finished dinner without me having to say another word. As the parents cleaned up dishes, Cameron and Curtis rushed out back. When Connor, Chris, Abbie, and I joined them a few minutes later, they’d engrossed themselves in some game with discarded pinecones from our evergreens.

Abbie relaxed in one of the teak chaise lounges, her auburn hair fanning out behind her. She closed her eyes and didn’t see what I did—the hungry way Chris looked at her. It lasted only a few seconds. By the time Abbie cracked open an eye, Chris had turned toward his little brothers. “Skylar, did you grab the monitor?” Abbie asked.

“No.”

“Do you mind?”

“Mom and Dad are inside. I’m sure they’ll let us know if Owen’s crying.”

Abbie sighed. “I’ll go get it.”

“No, stay there.” I stood from the seat I’d just cozied into.

“Thanks!” she called after me.

I repeated to myself that this was a hard day for Abbie. That my sixteenth birthday party had been worthy of an MTV episode. My new car had been an ebony Acura RSX. I’d spent my morning sleeping and my afternoon loafing around the country club pool. I’d flirted with random guys and let Eli kiss me because I liked the idea of getting my first kiss the day I turned sixteen. He’d looked so happy when he leaned close and I didn’t push him away. And then he’d whispered in my ear . . .

My mind flitted back to the party a year ago, to Eli finding me in the Starrs’ guest bedroom.

“You’re okay.” Eli’s arms had circled my torso, lifted and pulled me close. My shirt rode up, but I couldn’t finagle it back down. When I’d bought it a couple weeks back, I wondered if it’d be a problem, but I assumed I’d always be capable of adjusting it. I hadn’t anticipated this. Whatever this was.

“What’s going on?” My tongue felt heavy and foreign in my mouth—how was that possible?

“You’re okay,” Eli repeated. “I’ve got you.”

“Skylar?” Connor’s voice reached me.

I blinked, finding myself not in the guest bedroom of the Starrs’ house, but on my back porch, one hand resting on the doorknob.

I turned and found the three of them watching me. “What?”

Connor stood. “You okay?”

I nodded and pushed the corners of my mouth into a smile. “Yeah. Just . . .” I shook my head. “Zoned out for a second.”

He looked like he didn’t buy it, like he knew I’d gone to my “other place.” But if I admitted that, he’d push even harder for me to open up about that night. The isolated moments I recalled seemed horrible enough. I feared what I’d discover if I pieced them together.

18

Heather beamed as she held up the pinned bodice of her
wedding dress. “What do you think?”

“It’s awesome.” I couldn’t help reaching for it, feeling the slippery silk between my fingers. “You’re going to look amazing.”

“Why can’t it be August 1 yet?”

“We’re close.”

“Three weeks and two days.”

I grinned. “See?”

“Last night, I did the seating arrangements for the reception. I loved placing you and Connor beside each other.” Heather fit the bodice onto her sewing machine. “How’s everything going?”

“Great.” I smoothed Heather’s veil on my lap. “It’s like when we first started going out. Before . . .” Heather still didn’t know about Jodi. “Before things got complicated.”