been moody for days. It’s getting on my nerves.”
Anne trembled. Ahead of them Molly wrapped herself around Christopher and they swayed from side to side, dancing to inaudible music, or perhaps holding each other up. Behind them somebody else walked. Anne could hear the sound of the dress rustling, but lacked the curiosity to turn to see who it was.
With the worst possible timing, at the worst possible moment Anne whispered, “I’m not moody, Con. I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 6
T HERE SHOULD BE A rule, Kip thought. Never drive a car that has manual transmission while wearing a floor-length gown.
Her gleaming satin slippers were pressed where usually only dirty sneakers lay. She had had to yank up the ruffles of peach and rose around her knees to keep it off the floor. The unused bottoms of her slippers slithered over the brakes ineffectually.
I can’t believe I’m driving, Kip thought. And of course Roddy lives in a subdivision still under construction. Of course I have to drive over sewer pipe bumps and around lanterns I can barely see in the rain, and of course he said, “Oh, my house is easy to find, it’s the gray one,” and of course it’s dark and every single house in the whole stupid neighborhood looks gray.
She saw Roddy by the side of the road. He was wearing a raincoat and holding a newspaper over his head. The newspaper was drenched and flattened into pulp that drooped onto his hair.
Great, Kip thought. I’m going to the dance with a wet nerd. Just what I’ve always yearned to do. “Well, for heaven’s sake, get in!” she shrieked over the thunder. “Who do you think it is in this car?” she muttered more quietly. “Santa Claus?”
Roddy got in, soaking her upholstery, like a kid from the beach who forgot his towel. He wasn’t quite so dull-looking as she remembered. In fact he was okay-looking. Just very wet. “Hi, Roddy,” she said tonelessly. She was desperately regretting her decision to go with him, but fatalism had set in. She was in motion now, there was no stopping the events to come, and if she were meant to suffer total humiliation in front of every person she knew or cared about, so be it.
Roddy said, “Hi, Kip. Thanks a lot for coming. Do you mind turning the heat up a little? I’m kind of chilled. I thought you’d be here quicker.”
I hate boys who get cold and chilled, she thought. I like boys who show up in January wearing sleeveless sweat shirts, complaining they’re suffering of heat prostration.
She turned up the heat. Roddy put his hands in front of the vents, shivered noticeably, and said, “Gee, we’re going to have fun, aren’t we?”
Kip lived by certain rules. One that she never broke was that if she intended to do something anyway, she would do it courteously and to the best of her ability.
Now it struck her as a very stupid rule. Why should she have this stupid date with a smile? Why should she work hard to make the evening pleasant? She always worked hard, and where did it get her? Nowhere. Roddy was the jerk who’d called and she was the jerk who’d said yes. Let it all go down the tubes. She didn’t care.
She said nothing to him.
Roddy looked at her nervously. She hated nervous people. She liked solid secure people who got things done.
Silently they crossed Westerly, paying no attention to the storm or their surroundings, saying nothing, Kip caught in her bitterness, Roddy caught in his embarrassment.
Con said flatly, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He kept right on walking. Molly and Christopher were the same distance ahead, and whoever was behind them was the same distance behind. It had never crossed Anne’s mind that Con would simply dismiss the idea of her being pregnant. “But Con …” she said. Doubt and hope entered Anne in spite of herself. Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe the tests had been wrong. Maybe she should go to another doctor.
“We always used stuff,” said Con impatiently. He detested the real names of any
Anne trembled. Ahead of them Molly wrapped herself around Christopher and they swayed from side to side, dancing to inaudible music, or perhaps holding each other up. Behind them somebody else walked. Anne could hear the sound of the dress rustling, but lacked the curiosity to turn to see who it was.
With the worst possible timing, at the worst possible moment Anne whispered, “I’m not moody, Con. I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 6
T HERE SHOULD BE A rule, Kip thought. Never drive a car that has manual transmission while wearing a floor-length gown.
Her gleaming satin slippers were pressed where usually only dirty sneakers lay. She had had to yank up the ruffles of peach and rose around her knees to keep it off the floor. The unused bottoms of her slippers slithered over the brakes ineffectually.
I can’t believe I’m driving, Kip thought. And of course Roddy lives in a subdivision still under construction. Of course I have to drive over sewer pipe bumps and around lanterns I can barely see in the rain, and of course he said, “Oh, my house is easy to find, it’s the gray one,” and of course it’s dark and every single house in the whole stupid neighborhood looks gray.
She saw Roddy by the side of the road. He was wearing a raincoat and holding a newspaper over his head. The newspaper was drenched and flattened into pulp that drooped onto his hair.
Great, Kip thought. I’m going to the dance with a wet nerd. Just what I’ve always yearned to do. “Well, for heaven’s sake, get in!” she shrieked over the thunder. “Who do you think it is in this car?” she muttered more quietly. “Santa Claus?”
Roddy got in, soaking her upholstery, like a kid from the beach who forgot his towel. He wasn’t quite so dull-looking as she remembered. In fact he was okay-looking. Just very wet. “Hi, Roddy,” she said tonelessly. She was desperately regretting her decision to go with him, but fatalism had set in. She was in motion now, there was no stopping the events to come, and if she were meant to suffer total humiliation in front of every person she knew or cared about, so be it.
Roddy said, “Hi, Kip. Thanks a lot for coming. Do you mind turning the heat up a little? I’m kind of chilled. I thought you’d be here quicker.”
I hate boys who get cold and chilled, she thought. I like boys who show up in January wearing sleeveless sweat shirts, complaining they’re suffering of heat prostration.
She turned up the heat. Roddy put his hands in front of the vents, shivered noticeably, and said, “Gee, we’re going to have fun, aren’t we?”
Kip lived by certain rules. One that she never broke was that if she intended to do something anyway, she would do it courteously and to the best of her ability.
Now it struck her as a very stupid rule. Why should she have this stupid date with a smile? Why should she work hard to make the evening pleasant? She always worked hard, and where did it get her? Nowhere. Roddy was the jerk who’d called and she was the jerk who’d said yes. Let it all go down the tubes. She didn’t care.
She said nothing to him.
Roddy looked at her nervously. She hated nervous people. She liked solid secure people who got things done.
Silently they crossed Westerly, paying no attention to the storm or their surroundings, saying nothing, Kip caught in her bitterness, Roddy caught in his embarrassment.
Con said flatly, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He kept right on walking. Molly and Christopher were the same distance ahead, and whoever was behind them was the same distance behind. It had never crossed Anne’s mind that Con would simply dismiss the idea of her being pregnant. “But Con …” she said. Doubt and hope entered Anne in spite of herself. Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe the tests had been wrong. Maybe she should go to another doctor.
“We always used stuff,” said Con impatiently. He detested the real names of any
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