Call It What You Want(9)

Then again, it’s barely five o’clock. The place is nearly empty.

Our server is a boy named Craig. He’s cute in the way baby chicks are cute: fluffy and bouncy. He even has orange-blond hair that sticks up from his head in tufts. I’d think it was a dye job, but a tracing of reddish-orange stubble along his jaw tells me it’s probably real.

His sky blue eyes keep drifting to Samantha. Shocking.

She’s deliberately oblivious. “I’ll have the skinny enchiladas,” she says, then yawns and hands him the menu. “And a Diet Coke.” She never makes eye contact.

“I’ll have the chicken flautas.” I make sure to look at him, and I appreciate that he’s not too busy macking on my sister to meet my gaze. “And a Sprite.” I hand over my own menu.

“I’ll have those right out,” he says.

Samantha rubs her face, then places her hands on the table. “It’s so nice to get out of the house and go somewhere no one knows me.”

“I’m pretty sure Craig wants to know you.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Who’s Craig?”

Typical. “Our waiter.”

“Oh. Yeah. I think we graduated together. Whatever.” She pulls the elastic out of her hair, and a spill of gold cascades down over her shoulder. She shakes it out.

Craig is standing by the soda machine, and he stares so long that Diet Coke pours over his hand. He swears and moves to wipe it up.

I snort. “Sure looks like whatever.”

That wrinkle on her nose turns into a full-on frown. “What are you even talking about?”

Maybe she really is oblivious. “Never mind.”

Craig arrives with our drinks and silently unloads them.

My sister barely glances at him.

“Thank you,” I say pointedly.

She sips her soda. He walks away.

“You’re being kind of rude,” I whisper to her.

“I’m pregnant. I’m allowed.”

I wonder how often she’s going to trot that out over the next nine months.

I sip at my Sprite and consider the way I found her crying. I keep my voice low. “So, was David your boyfriend?”

Her expression goes still, and any attitude melts out of her eyes, leaving only sorrow. “I thought he was.” A pause. “I thought …”

She breaks off and swallows. Her eyes grow misty again.

I want to put my hand over hers, but I’m worried she’d snatch it away. “You thought what?”

“I thought he might one day be more.” She sniffs and uses her drink napkin to dab at her eyes. “I fell hard, I guess. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Sam—”

“I am. I should have stayed focused. I told myself no boys. And then I met him and that all went out the window. I can’t play like this. Even if I can finish the year in school, they’ll never renew my scholarship.” She wipes at her eyes again. “I signed a code of conduct. It specifically references impropriety.”

I flick my eyes toward the swinging doors that lead to the restaurant kitchen, but Craig is nowhere to be seen now. Regardless, I keep my voice low. “You’re allowed to have sex, Samantha.”

Her face twists like she’s going to burst into tears again, but she catches it and takes a long breath. I’ve never seen my sister like this, broken and vulnerable. The quiet stretches until I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to say something or she is.

“Were you dating him a long time?” I ask quietly, though I know it couldn’t have been too long, because she left for college in mid-August.

“Almost three months.” Another dab with the napkin.

“Why do you think he blocked you?”

“Why do you think?” she snaps. “Because he doesn’t want anything to do with this baby.” A long breath. “He says it isn’t his. But it is. It has to be.”

“He’s the only one?”

She wipes at her eyes again. “He’s the only one. Ever.”

I stop my eyes from growing wide. We used to talk boys, back when we were close, when we’d hide in her room after Mom called for us to turn our lights out. Sam is so fierce and outgoing that I always thought she had half a dozen guys strung around her little finger.

“I worked so hard, you know?” she says. “In high school? I could have had any guy I wanted. I turned them all down. I wanted to be the best. And I was.” She presses her fingertips into her eyes and sighs. “And here I threw it all away anyway.”

She takes a breath and looks at me over her fingertips. “What would you do?”

I go still. I don’t think my sister has ever asked for my opinion. On anything. Even before. Samantha knows what she wants and she goes after it.

Her hands lower from her face. “You don’t know either, do you?”

“No,” I whisper.

Craig reappears with our food, and Samantha goes silent. He must pick up on the tension, because he unloads the plates silently and slips away. The food is steaming hot, the air full of cilantro.

I push my food around my plate. “Do you want to use my phone to call him?”

Samantha snaps her head up. “What?”

“Well. I mean. I’m not blocked.”