Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

“Hey, gorgeous.” He presses a quick kiss to Piper’s lips before greeting me. “Hey, Frankie. Did you find it?”

I’m not the least bit surprised that my best friend shared the missing journal debacle with him. I’ve gotten used to her sharing everything with him.

“We’re going to look for it again after school,” Piper says as we close the distance toward our lockers.

“I can help,” Dalton offers, and God what I wouldn’t give to have gotten pregnant by a guy as nice as the one he has become.

“Thanks,” I say, ignoring the bizarre silence as I reach for the latch on my locker.

I nearly collapse when I open my locker, but I’m too stunned by the sight of the baby bottles and pacifiers that fall to my feet to even move. The hallway explodes with laughter when pink and blue baby balloons float out toward the ceiling, hovering over my head by thin ribbon.

“Oh God,” Piper hisses as she crouches and begins to pick up all the baby paraphernalia at my feet.

“What are you all staring at?” Dalton yells, but he no longer holds the power in these halls that he once did.

I can feel the crowd lessen at my back, but not everyone is ready to walk away from the show. My face is on fire, flaming with embarrassment and terror. Everyone knows. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep being pregnant a secret forever, but I was hoping for a little time to wrap my head completely around it first.

“Looks like she isn’t a boy after all,” Bronwyn says from behind me.

Tears are trailing down my face when I turn around, fully expecting to see her clinging to Zeke and him having a wide smile on his face, but she’s only flocked by her stupid friends, except for Drea who isn’t wearing a cheer uniform and standing off to the side. These girls are the ones that have done her bidding since day one at Westover Prep.

It doesn’t take long for me to find Zeke though. He’s standing on the periphery of the crowd, watching. I plead with him with my eyes, but he doesn’t step forward. He doesn’t tell everyone to go to class. He doesn’t walk up to me and place his hand on my belly. He doesn’t claim me or his baby. He simply shakes his head and walks away.

And now I know I don’t even need to bother with a conversation with Zeke Benson, because he just told me more than words could ever say.Chapter 41Zeke

The trouble is, you think you have time. ~Buddha.

As I stare down at the quote-image Piper Schofield shared on her Instagram, I can’t help but imagine it’s aimed at me.

Time, in fact, has ticked by slowly the last two days, and every single second of it has been filled with regret, shame, and sorrow.

I knew exactly what Frankie needed from me when she found me watching Bronwyn’s bullshit unfold in the hallway, but I couldn’t face her.

It’s simple. I’m a coward. A weakling. The ultimate piece of shit.

She needed me, and I turned my back on her and walked away. The same way I avoided my dad when he lay dying in that bed at home.

He’d be turning over in his fresh grave right now if he knew what I’ve done. Not getting Frankie pregnant, although I know he’d be disappointed in that, but not manning up and taking care of my own responsibilities would send him over the edge.

I don’t know what Mom will say. She showed up after school on Monday with keys to a small house on the outskirts of town. It was the perfect escape. I packed my things in my borrowed room in the Young’s house and didn’t look back. I wanted to leave a note for Frankie, but I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have.

You think you have time.

I’m punishing her for no reason at all. I have been this entire time, but I know walking away from her a couple days ago when she needed me the most was the final straw. She’ll never understand why I did it. I don’t even understand myself.

“You can’t just stare at your phone all day, Ezekiel. You need to get ready for school.”

I hate the idea of school. I hate the idea of suiting up in football gear for a sport that means nothing to me any longer, but I give my mom my best smile and get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, I’m walking into the locker room with a bunch of guys who cheer when I show up but don’t really know a thing about me.

“What do you think about it?” Linc asks as soon as I drop my bag of gear in front of my athletic locker.

“About what?” I mutter even though I don’t have any desire to be in the middle of their stupid conversations.