“Hedid!” She jumps up and down, and it frightens me how excited she is about my sexual encounter. “Noya, you’re growing up so fast!”
“Sammy,” I hiss, shaking her arm. “Stop. It’s embarrassing!”
She stops walking, and her long lashes flutter when she eyes me. “You just called me Sammy. You’ve never called me by my nickname before.”
“Oh…” Haven’t I?
I think back through the memories, but she’s right. I’ve always called her and known her as Samantha. I’ve never used her nickname, even though everyone who knows her knows to call her Sammy. My stomach churns as I wonder what she thought this whole time I’d been calling her by her actual name.
She grins when she says, “All right, I won’t persist anymore. Just make sure to use protection. You don’t want an unexpected pregnancy.”
“I will. I don’t want children,” I admit.
“Huh?” She blinks a few times. “You don’t want baby Conners when you’re older?”
I grimace.
“I play this game called ‘The Sims’, and I make Dylan and me, and I play house. It gets me so excited about our future!”
Sometimes… just sometimes, Samantha worries me.
“I’ve never thought aboutthatkind of stuff. It’s too early,” I then rephrase.
I never thought about my future. I realised I have short-term goals in life. Before meeting Conner, my goal was to fix the air-con and survive day by day. After meeting Conner, it was the same until he wanted us to move into his apartment together. My longest goal has been two weeks: two weeks until I move into an apartment with Conner and start my life. I don’t think about marriage, buying a house, what I want to do after school, or heaven’s children.
Why would I bring a child into my horrid, screwed-up life? It’s one thing I wish my mum had never done to me. No one deserves to know a grandfather like that.
I mentally shudder at the thought before turning back to Sammy. She’s talking about how she even thought of names for her children and how adorable they’ll look. I join in her conversation because she needs me to pay attention to her. Even knowing we have different views doesn’t mean I can’t support what she wants in her life and her goals.
50
FIGHT BACK
Andy and Wylanaren’t at the everyday spot at the back of the building. They’re here. I saw Andy’s car in the parking lot before Sammy ripped me away from Conner. I don’t know where they are, but I hope this is him heeding my promise to him. After blocking him, he must have understood that I was done with him and that there were no building blocks to salvage our friendship. Some things can never be repaired, and I know that now.
Conner and I sit against the building, listening to Dylan and Sammy talk about their weekend. Then, she declares we all should go bowling soon. Conner agrees, eager to take Dylan on. I see the competitive side come out, and then Dylan’s nervous laugh as he downplays what he tried to convince us of moments ago. He’s not good at bowling. He has a high score because he uses the bumpers, which he neglects to tell Conner.
We head to art after recess. I stiffen when I notice Andy at the table. He glances at me momentarily, and his hand clenches around the pencil he holds. When I see his mouth open, I turn away, hoping it will be enough for him to let go of what he wants to say.
Thankfully, it is.
I sit at the back with Conner. When Mr Rogers calls our names, we head to the front and hand in our portraits. I’m worried about handing mine in. I’m not very good at realistic drawing, but I hope it’s good enough.
Mr Rogers gives nothing away when I place mine on his desk. There’s no flicker of acknowledgement, and it makes my stomach churn too much until sickly cramps crunch inside.
“He hates it,” I whisper to Conner when I sit down. “I saw the look in his eyes.”
“The same look he gave me?” Conner questions. “And I know my portrait is the best in the class.” He places his hand on my leg and squeezes. “Relax. Yours is amazing. I look very handsome.”
“You’re only saying that because I’m your girlfriend.”
“Nah. If I hate it, I’d say it. How else should you get better if everyone praises everything you do, even when it’s shit?”
“True.”
He leans in, those eyes intense, and his lips look incredibly plump. “I also said it to butter you up.”
“Conner,” I breathe.