Because I Love You (8 page)

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?”

“This isn’t my normal self, babe. I’m holding back for you.” He winked.

God, I hated when he did that. “Can you be serious for one minute?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh!” I smacked my hand on the side of the door and stared out the window. For a few minutes, I sat like that, then Neil turned down the volume.

“Look, Andie, if you knew the real me, you’d get why I let people say that shit. It’s better they think I’m a cheater and a pothead than know the truth. Two things I’m not, by the way.”

“Except for when you made out with Abby Young in the library two years ago.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot I did that. That was a pretty shitty thing to do to you. I’m sorry.”

I looked at him, but his focus stayed on the road, his fingers no longer tapping to the beat.

“Well, if it helps, I had a really good time with you today. So, the real you can’t be all that bad,” I said. Obviously, he had a temper—and his snark made me want to smack him—but he was also playful and kind. And as far as his apology: I hadn’t expected that. He really needed to let people see this side of him more often.

Neil’s gaze flicked to me then back to the road. He pressed his lips together, and something deep inside me hoped he’d open up, even a little bit. The day
had
been really good, and maybe he could be the friend I needed, even given our history. But he turned up the radio and continued to stare straight ahead.

My heart sank.
Guess today was just chump charity, after all.

Ten minutes later, he pulled into my driveway. I stuffed the polar bear into my book bag and slung my purse over my shoulder before pushing open the truck’s door. “Thanks for today.”

“Wait.” Neil rubbed the back of his neck.

I pulled my legs back into the truck and shut the door.

“Give me your phone.” He held his hand out to me.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“So I can give you my number.”

Timidly, I pulled my cell out of my purse and handed it to him. He punched a few buttons then passed it back.

“Call me any time,” he said. “Day or night. I don’t live far, and half the time I’m at Owen’s—which is even closer—so whatever you need.”

After a day of jokes and sarcasm, his sincerity was unnerving—as was his penetrating stare. A lump caught in my throat. “Thanks.”

He flashed me a soft smile. “Later, Hamilton.”

I climbed out of the truck and waved goodbye as he backed out of the driveway.

chapter eight

Mom jerked awake at the dining table as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. I squinted at the stack of ungraded papers she must’ve used as a pillow. Had she really fallen asleep with her head on the table?

“Hey, honey.” Mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” I replied. My grip strengthened on my backpack, and I took a step toward the hall, biting my lip.

“Your school called me today. They said you didn’t show up this morning.”

Crap.
With a sigh, I dropped my bags on the floor and sat across from her. Could I come out and say,
I’m pregnant, and people at school called me a whore, so I skipped. Please don’t make me go back?

One look into Mom’s loving gaze told me no.

“It was stupid. A couple friends were going to the zoo and asked if I wanted to come along, and I said yes. I’m sorry.”

Mom stared into my eyes, and I forced myself to look away. If I didn’t, she’d know I wasn’t telling her the whole truth.

“Was there drinking involved?” she asked.

I shook my head and looked her in the eye. “No.”

“Drugs?”

“No.”

“Sex?”

“
No
.”

She stared at me then sighed. “Well, you know I’m going to have to ground you. One week. You go to school and come straight home. Understand?”

I flinched when she reached across the table to take my hand.

“You’re a good girl, Andrea. And this is an honest house. Next time you want to go somewhere instead of school, call me first, and we’ll talk. Letting my daughter miss a day or two of school is much better than finding out she’s sneaking around because she’s afraid to tell me what she’s up to. Promise you’ll call me next time?”

I nodded and my throat tightened, like someone was strangling me. Mom patted my hand when my eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t tell her
.
She’d be devastated. And after these last two years of struggling to parent me by herself, to find out her daughter was pregnant . . . I’d break her heart, and I didn’t think I’d ever recover.

“There’s no reason to get upset, honey. I know you’re sorry. Now, go upstairs and do the work you missed today. I set a list for you on your desk,” Mom said.

She didn’t need to tell me again. After jumping out of my chair, I grabbed my bags off the floor and then ran to my bedroom, locking the door the moment I was inside. I leaned against a wall, a hand on my stomach as the room blurred. I counted to five, breathing slowly through my nose. The sob waned.

A small gold box was sitting on my bed, no bigger than a paperback book. Biting my lip, I opened it. Inside was a new cheer bow with a note from Mom that read:
For Friday’s game. Your dad would be so proud of how far you’ve come. Love, Mom

Clutching the box, I collapsed on the edge of my mattress, my bedroom ten degrees colder.
Oh, God.
My vision blurred as a giant weight slammed into my chest and threatened to take me down.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry
, I repeated again and again, fighting tears. How would I ever tell her about the baby? She’d never be proud of me again, and Dad—could he see me right now? Did he already know what I’d done?

My phone buzzed in my purse. I plucked it out of the bag’s front pocket. A text from Heather.
Carter sez u told him it was his. He said u lied.

Why would I lie about that?
I sent back.

Dunno. U 1st told me it was sum dude in London. So which is it? Btw, word round skool is u dropped ur pants a couple times this summer. Sounds like it could’ve been ne 1. Guess ur not the friend I thought u were.

The phone fell from my hand. This couldn’t be happening. How could Heather, my best friend since kindergarten, believe that crap? I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead as the room spun.

Maybe if I never got fat, maybe if I never left school, I could say the whole rumor was started by Beth.

I can’t be pregnant,
I thought, raking my hands through my hair.
I don’t want to be a mom. I want my friends back. I don’t want Dad to stop being proud of me. I want my life back!

My breaths were shaky as I reached for my phone to dial Neil. He picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Andie.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Couldn’t wait a whole day to talk to me, huh?”

“God, would you stop with the sarcasm? That’s not why I called.” My voice broke.
Crap.

He mumbled something to someone on his end, and I heard a door close. “You okay?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”
Great, I sound like Minnie Mouse.

“What’s up?”

I covered my mouth, unable to say the words.
Dang it.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Neil said. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

I blew out a long breath. “Can you take me to a clinic tomorrow?”

“An abortion clinic?” When I didn’t answer—because he couldn’t see me nodding—Neil continued, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do? Is the baby’s dad even okay with that?”

Oh, I’m sure he’d be just fine with the decision.
Anger boiled inside me. “Will you take me or not?”

“Jeez. Yes, of course I’ll take you. I told you whatever you needed, didn’t I?”

I bit my tongue, hard, trying not to turn into a weeping disaster. Was it what I
wanted
to do? No. But it was what I had to do if I wanted my life to go back to normal.

“I’ll be there at 8:30 tomorrow, okay?” he said. “Hang in there. Call me if you change your mind.”

“Thanks,” I whispered as my phone beeped in my ear, alerting me that the call had dropped.

For the next ten minutes, I kept myself preoccupied, hiding the cheer ribbon from view, picking up piles of clutter, withdrawing textbooks from my book bag before stuffing them back in—fighting the football-sized lump in my throat. Finally, I climbed under my sheets, not caring that the sun hadn’t set yet or that my homework was still untouched, and let myself cry.

I slept for twelve hours, waking at 7:00 a.m. when my cell alarm filled the room. In a daze, I showered and pulled my light blonde hair into a bun. There was no point in styling today. I didn’t even bother with makeup. As much as I hated to admit it, I was going to be a blubbering mess on the ride home. The last thing I needed was to look like the new member of
KISS
.

After throwing a hoodie over yoga pants, I found the website for the clinic and made sure I didn’t need a reservation.
No appointment necessary for medical abortions
, the site said. Fine by me.
Parent’s signature required for minors
. The heck with that. I was sure I could convince Neil to sign it. He
was
a rebel, after all. And he’d said whatever I needed, right?

I grabbed my purse and wandered downstairs. The house was empty. I contemplated calling Neil and asking him to get me but changed my mind. It didn’t matter when we got there. It was still going to be one of the worst days of my life.

Numb, I shuffled outside to sit on the front stoop, and at 8:29, Neil’s truck pulled up to the house.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked when I climbed into the passenger’s seat.

I nodded, and he backed out of the driveway and remained silent until we pulled into the parking lot a half hour later. Unlike when Heather took me to Planned Parenthood, this clinic was on the good side of Denver. Instead of barred windows and run-down houses, the streets were filled with shopping centers and restaurants.

Neil hopped out of the truck as soon as he shut down the engine, but I sat there, staring at the front door, willing myself to go inside. This was the right choice. Carter wasn’t going to help me, Heather had more-or-less disowned me, and I couldn’t break my mom’s heart. I had to do this.

Neil opened my door. “You coming?”

I nodded, prying my nails from the truck’s seat, and hopped out. I grabbed his arm before we went any farther. Man, it was strong. “Wait, I almost forgot.” From my purse, I dug out a pen and the Certificate of Notice I printed off the clinic’s website. “I need you to sign this.”