Where the Staircase Ends(50)

“Not now, Brandon.” I rolled my eyes impatiently at him and craned my neck so that I could scan the crowd behind him for Sunny. He probably wanted to find out what I got on last week’s quiz, but I didn’t have time for his competitive crap right then.

His hand shot out and grabbed my arm. I noticed a sheen of sweat glistening on his upper lip and hairline, making him look even more awkward than usual.

“It’s about what everyone is saying about you.” His eyes flashed a conceding look of desperation. “I just wanted you to know that I know it’s not true.”

I blinked back at him a few times. “What everyone is saying about me?” I leaned against a nearby locker to steady myself.

He studied me for a few moments before realizing I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Oh, Taylor,” he started, his head cocking to the side sympathetically. He pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling, deciding where to begin. Then he let out a low whistle and started to speak.

My heartbeat roared in my ears, churning and gurgling like the Mississippi River. The world swirled around in gray and white blurs, and I was stuck standing still in the center of the colorless whirlpool, trying not to get sucked in. It was all I could do to steady myself against the lockers so I wouldn’t collapse.

Jenny was right, Tracey Allen had seen Sunny at Walgreen’s Sunday. But Sunny didn’t admit to anything. Why would she? Sunny was a survivor. Sunny was quick on her feet, pinning the blame on the first person who popped into her head.

“Tracey caught Sunny trying to steal the morning-after pill, and she was going to tell the store manager, but Sunny begged her not to. Sunny said she was stealing it for you … that you were too embarrassed to have to buy it yet again.” He swallowed thickly, avoiding my eyes, “I guess she told Tracey the reason you and Logan were fighting at The Fields on Saturday was because he’d found out you had a … ” he lowered his voice to a whisper and motioned to my stomach, like he couldn’t even say the word. “That you’d gotten pregnant and had it … taken care of.”

I felt the color drain from my face, everything around me swaying with the rhythm of my quickening pulse. That’s what Jenny had meant when she said, if you didn’t want people to find out, you shouldn’t have done it. I walked right into the trap, all but admitting it was true, thinking I needed to protect Sunny when I was the one who needed protecting.

But it still didn’t explain everyone’s strong reaction. I wasn’t the first girl to have accidental pregnancy rumors spread about them. So why was everyone making such a big deal out of it this time?

“There’s more,” he said, his cheeks flushing. “They’re saying you weren’t sure if the father was Logan, because there have been other guys. Lots of other guys. And Tracey is telling people that one of the guys is Mr. Thompson—”

“Pervy Mr. Thompson? But Tracey is the one sleeping with him!”

Brandon moistened his lips before continuing. “Apparently not. She’s telling everyone you’re the one he’s been seeing, not her.”

Of course. What better way to deflect a rumor than to pawn it off on someone else? It was the ideal opportunity for Tracey to turn the rumor tides and let someone else serve as the sacrificial gossip lamb.

Brandon kept going, as though he was telling a story rather than unraveling my life. “But mostly people are talking about Logan. They feel bad for him because of what happened to his brother. People are pretty upset that you did this to him—that you took the baby from him after he’s already lost so much, and that you’ve been seeing all those people behind his back—”

“But it’s not true,” I whispered, my voice an echo inside of my head. “It was Sunny. I never … I haven’t even had …”

“I know,” he said, his hand gently squeezing my arm.

“How do you know?” I asked, suspicion entering my voice. Brandon and I were far from friends. He ripped me apart every chance he could when we were in class..

He glanced down at his feet and scuffed his toe along the brown and black flecked carpet of the hallway. When he looked back at me, his cheeks and neck were pink and blotchy.

“I was behind the house that night at The Fields, when you and Logan were fighting,” he admitted, releasing his hand from my arm so he could wipe the sweat from his hairline. “I heard what he said to you, and I saw him … knocking you around.”

“What were you doing back there?” I tried to picture the black, empty shadows behind the half-finished house where Logan and I were arguing. It was dark and hard to see, but then again I was too focused on Logan to notice anything else. Someone could easily have hidden back there and I wouldn’t have seen them.

“I was using the restroom.” His eyes once again darted down to the carpet. I thought about the way Brandon had stood off to the side of the keg by himself, staring into his cup of beer like he didn’t know what to do with it. That night was probably his first time at The Fields. He wouldn’t have known that The Boys Room was on the other side of the open party space, half a block from where Logan and I were fighting.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice fractured. “I should have said something, or done something when I saw the way he shook you around. I was just … I was scared. And then Justin and Sunny came, and Justin punched Logan—”