Out with the In Crowd (3 page)

“You’re sure they knew the time?”

“We talked about it at dinner last night.” I held down the speed dial number for Dad’s cell. “We told them the appointment was at 3:45, so you’d be taking us. Mom said to Dad, ‘Don’t you have a meeting at 3:30?’ Dad said, ‘No, I moved it for counseling,’ and Mom said, ‘Oh, I forgot about counseling.’ So they decided to cut their session a few minutes short so they could make it on time.”

Once again Dad’s voice mail kicked in. I hung up before he could invite me to leave a message. I’d already left two.

“Voice mail again?” Connor asked.

I nodded. “I don’t understand.”

The back of my neck prickled with fear, or maybe just cold. Who ate ice cream when it was forty degrees outside, anyway? I pulled my jacket tight around me.

Connor’s fingertips pressed into the back of my neck, warm from hot fudge. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

I heard Abbie’s voice in my head.
I think it’s too good to
last.
Those words had haunted me all week long, during family dinners full of elaborate foods our table had never seen—roasts, Cornish hens, salads with ingredients like feta and arugula. It
did
seem too good to last. It reminded me of other projects around the house that Mom dove into with enthusiasm—sewing curtains for the guest bedroom, an organic vegetable garden—only to abandon them shortly after starting. Was our family doomed to be one more discarded hobby?

“Why wasn’t Lance there today?” Connor’s voice sounded tight, like it often did when we discussed Lance. “You’d think he’d care.”

“He does.” I forced myself to take a bite of ice cream. Connor had bought it for me, after all. “His mom wouldn’t let him come.”

Connor’s eyes widened. “Wouldn’t
let
him?”

“They don’t want him involved unless Abbie decides to keep the baby.”

“How about teaching him to be responsible for his actions? Abbie has to deal with it regardless of what she does with the baby; shouldn’t Lance?”

“I agree completely. Believe me, I wanted to call Mrs. Hartfield and say those exact things.”

Hartfield “But?”

“Abbie wants to handle it herself.”

Connor absently tugged at his collar. “That’s fine, but she can’t let herself get pushed around by this family. All I’m saying is . . .”

But I didn’t catch the rest. My eyes caught on a familiar black Land Rover rolling into the parking lot. While not an unusual car to see around this part of town, the flashes of blond hair in the driver and passenger seats confirmed my fears—Eli and Jodi.

I used to log all my time at Sheridan’s Frozen Custard with Eli, Jodi, and the rest of our friends. All last summer we’d haunted this place, lounging on the grassy hill or secluding ourselves in the bed of John’s truck.

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.” Connor sounded amused.

I nodded toward Eli and Jodi emerging from the car. “We’ve got company.”

He glanced their direction. “Super,” he said in a flat voice. “Although I have to admit, the week went better than I expected.”

I thought of Jodi’s frigid glare whenever our paths crossed. “I don’t know.”

“You gotta admit, it could’ve been worse. At least there wasn’t any pig’s blood.”

My confusion must have been evident on my face.

“Like in
Carrie
,” Connor said. I shook my head. “You’ve never seen
Carrie
? We have to watch it. How about—”

“Don’t do it.” Jodi loomed over us, wearing a sticky smile, the kind I assumed originated in the garden with the serpent. She helped herself to the empty spot on the other side of my boyfriend. “Really, Connor, do you subject all your girlfriends to that movie? Is it like a hazing of sorts?”

Connor smiled, a nice one, not a fake one. Connor didn’t have a fake smile. “You liked it and you know it.”

I’d had enough of this trip down memory lane. “You’re not having ice cream?”

Jodi shook her head. “Coffee. Eli’s getting it for me.” She stole one of Connor’s maraschino cherries. “We’re celebrating our last first week of high school. You guys too?”

Connor didn’t seem to mind her thievery, just kept eating. “More like the thermometer finally cracking forty degrees.”

Did he have to be so chatty with her? Talk about obnoxious. Had he forgotten what she’d done to me?

“You don’t mind if we sit with you, right?” Jodi said. “I can’t figure out why this place doesn’t put in tables or something. Eli says they just don’t want to encourage loitering, but we all hang out anyway, you know? Why not make it easier on us?”

Eli appeared, holding two steaming cups of something. “Here you go, babe.”

Jodi looked up at him, her smile turning real. “You don’t mind sitting with our exes, right?” She blew on her coffee and winked at Connor and me. “I figure we’ve all moved on, there’s no reason why we can’t hang out.”

On the contrary, I could think of plenty of reasons, but I scooted to make room for Eli anyway.

Jodi cuddled against Eli. “We’re partying at Alexis’s tonight, if you guys wanna come.”

“No thanks,” I rushed to respond. With Connor’s chumminess, he’d probably accept. He’d never had a drink in his life, but he believed in accepting people wherever, keggers included.

Eli nudged Jodi with his elbow. “Skylar doesn’t party anymore, remember?”

“Silly me.” Another toothy smile. “How could I have forgotten?”

Was she making fun of me? Jodi probably thought herself considerate doing so to my face. I’d rather she save her uglies for behind my back.

“Connor, Skylar, you guys ready?” Abbie called as she and Chris stood.

I bounced up. “Yep.” I’d never loved my sister more.

“You look adorable, Abbie,” Jodi said. “Really. I love that shirt.”

Abbie smiled without revealing any teeth. “Thanks. My sister made it for me.” She turned and ambled to the car, Chris beside her.

“See you guys on Monday,” I said.

Jodi sipped at her coffee. “Come by Lexi’s if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” I said, my voice flat.

Connor had to jog to catch up with me. “Do you have to act like that?”

“Like what?” I pitched my empty cup in the trash.

“Like you’re better than them.”

I winced. How easy it had been to slip back into it, treating others like they were beneath me. That feeling of superiority had the same cozy, comfy fit as my old Earl jeans. These new attitudes I was supposed to adopt as a Christian—humility, trust, joy—felt more like itchy wool tights.

But still. It irked me how friendly Jodi had been after a week of snubbing me. And how Connor let her get away with it.

“How should I have acted?” I asked. “Like you? Like everything was peachy?”

“Is this about her and Eli getting back together?” he asked, despite us rejoining Abbie and Chris at the car.

Concepts like putting on a smile and pretending things were fine—a way of life in the Hoyt household—were foreign to Connor. He didn’t put on airs. He was the same at school and church, with our pastor and with his baseball team. I envied this, but right then, it annoyed me.

“You’ve been weird ever since Lisa called you about them getting back together,” Connor said.

I felt my face flame, although with my Hawaiian heritage, only I knew Connor’s words embarrassed me. “Are you implying I’m jealous?”

Abbie leapt to my defense, winning points with me yet again. “Skylar’s not really the jealous type.”

Connor looked from Abbie to me, amusement shining in his eyes. “I’ve seen it firsthand.”

I chose to ignore the jealousy subject altogether. It didn’t even deserve a response. “It’s dangerous to be too friendly with Jodi.”

Connor opened my door for me, as did Chris for Abbie. “Dangerous how?”

“It just is.” I thought of Eli but didn’t know how to explain. “You think she’s just being friendly, but she’s not. She’s after you.”

“Why? We’ve already dated.”

Like I needed the reminder.

“I didn’t say it was about
getting
you. It’s about getting
to me
.”

“You’re being a little egotistical, Skylar.”

Maybe so, but I didn’t want to go through being cheated on ever again. I didn’t want Jodi taking Connor away too. “Enough fighting.” Chris slammed Abbie’s door, displaying a rare burst of impatience. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Connor sighed and closed my door, giving Abbie and me a brief moment of privacy while the boys circled to their side.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not crazy. She wants him.”

“Connor’s being an idiot,” Abbie said. “I could see it from where I was sitting.”

And that was all we had time for.

Connor started the engine and backed out of the parking spot. We waited for a break in traffic to turn onto 75th Street, and he reached for me. When he patted my leg, I met his gaze.

“Sorry,” he mouthed.

I smiled and shrugged, feeling my muscles relax. Connor wasn’t just my boyfriend, he was my best friend. That made it twice as bad when we fought because I had no one to call and gripe to. Except Abbie, but our closeness still felt fragile. Learning we could rely on each other was one nice by-product of her pregnancy. Which reminded me . . .

“Hey.” I twisted in my seat to face her. “Did you get ahold of Mom or Dad?”

She shook her head. “I tried every number I could think of.”

“Me too.” I frowned. “Maybe counseling went long.”

“I hope that’s all it is.” She rubbed her belly, frowning.

I offered Abbie what I hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

When we pulled down our street, Connor spotted it first.

“Um . . .” He tapped my leg and pointed at my house.

“O God,” I said, the only prayer I could eke out.

Abbie gasped.

Connor slowed the car to a crawl.

I couldn’t tear my gaze from the yard. Dad stood amid the mess, bent over. He righted himself as we approached.

As we pulled into the driveway, I realized all the stuff belonged to Dad. His shirts, his shoes, everything from his side of the closet littered the lawn.

“I guess it didn’t go well today,” Connor said.

“I guess it didn’t go well today,” Connor I gripped his hand. “I guess it didn’t.”

4

“Daddy, what happened?” I asked as Abbie and I ran toward him.

Dad waved at the guys as they pulled away from the house. “What time is it?”

“A little after five. What happened?” I stepped around a pile of white undershirts. “Did you guys fight or something?”

He looked past me, to Abbie. “I’m so sorry we weren’t there, honey. How’d everything go?”

She tromped over the undershirts I’d so carefully avoided. “Fine. What happened?”

Fine. What happened?”

“The baby’s healthy? You’re healthy?”

Abbie crossed her arms over her chest and settled them on her belly. “Everyone’s healthy. It’s a girl. What happened?”

Amazing. For weeks, those questions had plagued all our minds—the baby’s gender and health. Now, with our lawn full of dress shirts and loafers, they’d taken a backseat.

“A girl?” Dad beamed as he wrapped his arms around Abbie. “I can’t wait to have a little girl around again. Congratulations, honey.”

With all the activity, he’d apparently forgotten we might not be raising her.

Abbie pushed him away. “Why is all your stuff out here?”

“Oh, this.” Dad surveyed the lawn. “This looks worse than it is.”

As if we stood there discussing crabgrass or a busted sprinkler system.

I looked up into the bare branches of the sycamore. “Dad. Your
underwear
is hanging in the trees.”

He followed my gaze and blinked at it. “Yeah . . .” But he didn’t seem interested in filling us in on why.

“Did something happen at counseling?” Abbie sounded like a teacher trying to prompt a student for the correct answer.

“Nothing we can’t overcome.” Dad turned a big smile on us, the one I’d seen him use with clients at their annual Christmas party. “You know what we should do? Go to Ruth’s Chris for dinner. It’s been ages since we ate there.” If possible, his smile grew bigger. “What do you say, girls? Get dressed up? Do a little shopping?”

“What for?” Abbie asked.

“To celebrate the baby, of course!” Dad’s laugh sounded forced—har-har-har.

If I hadn’t been so dumbfounded by his over-the-top gesture, I’d have grabbed his shoulders and shaken him until he fessed up. But why did his suggestion of a nice dinner and shopping surprise me? My parents had always used money to avoid problems, though usually it didn’t feel so obvious. Standing in a pool of pleated slacks and tube socks made it clear the correct answer wasn’t a nice steak and a new handbag.

“We could look for an outfit to bring her home in, if you like,” Dad continued. “Your mom had the best time doing that for you girls.”

He looked from one of us to the other, his smile still big and phony as he waited for a reaction.

“I’m gonna go lay down,” Abbie said. She slinked away, a necktie caught on one of her dragging feet.

“Does 6:30 sound okay to you, honey?” Dad called after her.

She answered with a wave over her shoulder, then closed herself inside the house.

Dad gave me a questioning look. “She okay?”

“You and Mom missed her sonogram, then we come home to find the yard looking like your closet threw up on it. What do you think?”

Dad sighed and pulled his hands through his thick gray hair. “Will you help me clean this stuff up?”

Not long ago, I’d have expected this shifty, dodgy behavior from Dad. For most of my high school life, he’d been a mere shadow. Most nights he barely made it home for dinner, and even if he was home, I was often out with friends. He didn’t get his act together until last fall when Mom left. That’s when he’d invested himself in our lives, and we in his. Only to shut us out now.

But I couldn’t just leave him out there alone with his underwear strung up in a tree.

I crouched and gathered an armful of clothes. “Where do you want this stuff?”

“I’m just putting it inside the door. Thanks, honey.”

My knees cracked as I stood. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s out.” His voice sounded casual. Too casual.