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Down in the corner there was a special section to click on for daddys-to-be. That was Jake. That was my boyfriend. I tried to picture him holding a baby, and when I did, he looked completely freaked out. But he might have to do it soon. He might have to actually take care of a human being. Him and Chloe. How were they supposed to do that? And wouldn’t they have to be … together to do it? My heart felt like it was gulping for air all of a sudden. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out where I fit in that lovely domestic scenario.
“Hi, hon! Whatcha looking at?”
My mom breezed into the kitchen with a huge smile on, reaching back to tuck her hair up into a bun. I slapped my computer closed and almost took my fingertip off. My mother froze, suspicious.
“Ally?”
“I was just … looking for wedding presents,” I improvised.
Gray and Qui
“Oh. That’s sweet, Ally, but you don’t have to get us anything,” Gray said, giving my shoulders a squeeze as he passed me by. He joined my mom at the coffee machine and they shared a kiss as he poured half and half in her mug for her. Which made me think of how my dad used to do the same thing. Which made me nauseous. I pushed my Frosted Flakes aside.
“Gray’s right. Just make a good speech at the wedding,” Mom said.
My mouth fell open. She couldn’t be serious. “I have to make a speech?”
“Hello? You are the maid of honor,” Qui
I dropped my head onto my hand. “Just kill me now.”
“Ally,” my mom said in her favorite warning tone.
I sighed and rubbed my face with both hands. It felt dry and tight, like my eyes.
“Ally?” Now she sounded more concerned. She placed her hand on my back and I tensed. “Is something wrong? Is it the wedding?”
“No.” I slid my laptop off the island and into its case. “I’m fine about the wedding.”
“Liar, liar …” Qui
“Qui
“What? I totally heard her on the phone last night telling someone all about how the wedding pla
My face burned. “You listened in on my phone call?”
“Well, you could try dialing it down a notch,” Qui
“Mom!” I groaned.
“Girls, please.” My mother held out her hands like two stop signs. She and Gray looked at each other over our heads and, surprisingly, smiled. “Well, they’ve got the sister thing down.”
Okay, now I really was going to puke.
“I have to go,” I said, gathering my stuff. “Dad’s probably outside already. I’m going with him to Jump before school.”
I headed toward the foyer, but my mom followed me.
“Ally, hang on a second, please.”
I paused in the center of the marble floor, next to the huge potted tree I’d never seen anyone water. Yet somehow, it was still alive. One of the many mysteries of the Nathanson household.
“Remember what we said,” my mother told me. “At the end of the summer? You promised me that if there was ever anything wrong, you would talk to me about it.”
I yanked my backpack strap onto my shoulder, feeling heavy with guilt. Looking back on the summer always made me feel awful. I’d been a brat, plain and simple. I hadn’t liked the way things were going and instead of talking to anyone about it, I’d pouted and complained and acted like an idiot, trying to manipulate my mom into getting back together with my dad. After we’d had our long, long make-up talk, I had promised her I’d tell her if something was bothering me, but I’d also promised myself I’d be nicer to her. Which meant not complaining about her wedding and a speech I didn’t know I had to make.
But I also couldn’t tell her what was going on. It wasn’t my secret to tell.
“It’s just … there’s so much, between the SAT and college applications and the recruitment thing,” I told her. “I just want it to be over with already. I want to know where I’m going to be next year.”
I’d actually kind of like to be there already, I added silently, wishing for a mode of escape from all the drama.
“I know. I know it’s not easy,” my mom said, smoothing my hair behind my ear. “But you’re go
I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Mom.”
“So, listen … there is something else I want to talk to you about,” my mother said as we walked slowly toward the double doors at the front of the house. “Gray wants to take me on a real honeymoon. Two weeks on the Amalfi Coast,” she said with a grin. “But if we go, that means …”
With a start I realized what she was getting at. My birthday. If she was gone for two weeks after the wedding, she wouldn’t be here for my eighteenth birthday. I took a breath, remembered my promise to myself, and lifted my shoulders.
“That’s okay,” I said. “We can just celebrate when you get back.”
“Yeah?” Her voice was an excited squeak. “Are you sure?”
“Totally. It’s no big deal.” But inside, my heart felt heavy. She was already doing it. She was already choosing Gray over me.
“When we get back we’ll do our traditional birthday di
“Okay,” I said, backing toward the door. I saw my father’s newly leased Taurus idling in the driveway. “Cool. But I should go. Dad’s here.”
“Okay. Tell him I said hi!” my mom said awkwardly.
“I will.”
Outside I jogged to the car, feeling the weight of the conversation tug free from my shoulders. My father had the radio on, tuned to a classic rock station.
“Tell me you have those ci
He chuckled, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. “Rough morning in the Palais du Nathanson?” he said in a French accent.
“Something like that,” I said.
My dad pulled out of the driveway and we cruised down the hill, past all the mansions and gated driveways and ski
“Everything all right, bud?” my dad asked.
“Yeah.” Sure. Fine. Great.
“I was thinking, if you want to go over your applications one night this week, I could help you narrow things down,” my dad said, lowering the volume. “Maybe take some of the pressure off?”
I looked up at him. College. Applications. Visions of brick and stone buildings, fancy school logos, and happily smiling students hanging on lush lawns filled my mind, crowding out due-date calculators and gender predictors. The future. My future. Somewhere other than here, with people who’d never heard of Orchard Hill, of Chloe and Jake. And even though I felt a twinge of disloyalty, for thinking of a life beyond Jake, my chest filled with airy hope.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
My dad smiled, and for the first time in days, I smiled too.
jake
The doctor’s office smelled like lemon. No. Not like lemon. Like a lemon car air freshener. It had that synthetic fake-citrus smell that’s so foul it makes the hairs inside your nose itch. Every time I breathed in, I wanted to heave. It didn’t help that it was, like, five-fucking-trillion degrees in there and everyone was staring at me like I’d come to each of their homes and personally slaughtered their family pets. The pregnant woman in the corner with the graying hair. The couple that looked like newlyweds off some reality show with the leather, the dye jobs, and the bling. Even the janitor shot me a look on her way out, lowering her sunglasses so she could really give it to me.