He frowned a little, his expression unreadable.
I said, “Do you want me to help you turn the spare room into an office?” I passed him the flan.
He took it. “We’ll get through this,” he said.
“I’ve been so stupid. I got so many things wrong with you and Mum. With Cleo. With Griffin. Mainly with Pete.”
“I don’t understand how you got mixed up … involved with this other boy.”
“I’m not sure. I was following the plan with Griffin … and I just …”
“I know my dreams and crazy ideas might have made you want to be the opposite, but you’re too young for a plan.”
I wanted to tell him that I loved his dreams and crazy plans, but he was still talking.
“Your mother’s more restrained. Controlled. Now. But she was a free spirit when we met, full of crazy hopes herself. I think I took all the air. And then we lost the babies. Things went downhill from there. Grief can be relentless, but it wasn’t grief alone that destroyed us. It just exposed how unhappy your mother really had become …”
He dropped his gaze and scuffed the floor with his heel. His feet were bare. I remembered being little and looking up to my giant of a dad. Everything seemed so easy then, like he had all the answers.
“I am really sorry, Dad. This”—I gestured at my tummy—”hasn’t helped any.”
“It’s not what I hoped for you.”
“I know you want me to go to Oxford University. Conquer the world.”
He rested his hand on my forearm. It was the first time he’d touched me in months. “I don’t care if you go to Oxford, silly girl. I just want you to be happy.”
“I will be happy there,” I said.
“Being happy doesn’t mean everything is perfect,” he said.
“Sure it does.”
“It’s a quotation I read on the Internet, so it must be true.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Hmm, I should probably clean up there. I have no idea how your mother managed to keep this house running so smoothly. So”—he squeezed my arm—”the rest of the quotation goes something like, Being happy means you’ve decided to accept the imperfections and get on with it anyway. Oh, I can’t remember it exactly and I can’t remember who said it. Anon, I think. Clever guy,” he joked. “I do have one more quotation—”
“Since when do you like other people’s quotations?”
“Since you took them down off your corkboard. I missed them. Here it is: Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be. Abraham Lincoln said that. I like it.” He passed the flan back to me and I took a big, wobbly mouthful and licked the spoon clean.
“It’s good, huh?” Dad said.
I nodded.
He patted me on the shoulder. “I’m job-hunting for the rest of the day. Maybe later you can help me with my application.”
I reached up to kiss him on the cheek, and he smelled of his spicy aftershave. He put his arms around me, and just like that we were hugging.
He pulled away first and said, “Okay, Birdy, I’ve got things to do.”
“Dad, you know what you said, what Abraham Lincoln said, about making up your mind to be happy? You’re right.” I pulled out my phone.
As he wandered out he said, “Of course I’m right. I’m your father.”
I flicked through to Pete’s number and, before I could stop myself, keyed it in.
He picked up on the first ring. “Amy?” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
He was quiet, waiting.
“Pete, I need to see you.”
“I’ve been wanting you to say that for months,” he said.
My heart jumped. It wasn’t too late. I felt like I was flying.
He said, “I can meet you at the park in, like, fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen. Okay.”
I ARRIVED IN THE PARK AND PERCHED ON THE BENCH OVERLOOKING the small lake. The water reflected the blue sky, and it was so still the trees opposite were perfectly mirrored. Pete came sauntering across within a couple of minutes. He wore a black T-shirt and he had a tan, making his sandy hair look blonder. It suited him.
He lifted one hand to wave. I felt a blush through my cheeks on seeing him. He smiled and said, “How you doing?”
I patted the space next to me. He sat and I instantly felt the heat of his presence.
“How did the exam go for you today?” I said.
“Hard. I was kidding myself this would be a new start. I’m just not that sort of guy.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was supposed to be, you know, a new school, new family, everything. Anyway, what did you want? I thought we weren’t speaking,” he said, turning to me. His eyes were open and honest.
I realized how little I knew about him. I realized how much I’d based on rumours and reputation. What an idiot I was. I could smell the cigarette he’d just smoked and I longed to kiss him.
TOP TIP 33: DON’T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS ABOUT SOMEONE
I said, “I wanted to see you. We need to talk. First, I wanted to say that I should have told you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I screwed up so badly, Pete.”
He stared off at the lake.
“I wanted to be in love with Griffin.”
“Yeah.” He spoke to the water in front of us. “I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at him. You know, with respect.”
My insides twisted up. “I should have told you about the baby. I never—” My voice cracked. “I never slept with Griffin. Only you.”
He studied me seriously. “What do you want me to do?”
This close, I could make out that small, silvery scar above his lip. I said, “Nothing.”
“I don’t want to be like my dad,” he said. “I can, you know, be responsible. I know I didn’t exactly show you that … I got things wrong with you, Amy.”
“I was so angry with you. Why did you tell everyone I was pregnant? When I got back from Spain, everyone knew. You told everyone.”
“It wasn’t like that. I was upset. I talked to Kitty when you told me at first. I was angry and it came out. I told her not to tell anyone.”
“It was on Facebook. I’ve been so … so mad at you.”
“You never trusted me. Or us. I’m not that bad, you know.”
I stammered, “I just figured Griffin was the perfect guy.”
He leaned closer. “Not for you,” he said.
A breeze came between us, light and summery. “I know.”
He put his hand on mine. “What can I do to help? You know, with the baby?”
“I’m—” I choked up. “I’m giving him away.”
His jaw tightened. “Do I get a say?”
“What do you want?”
He pulled his hand from mine and leaned his head back to look up at the blue sky. It framed his face. “I don’t know. I’m too young for all this, I know that, but I should be helping you decide this stuff.”
“I’ve already spoken to the adoption worker. She’ll want to speak to you too.”
“Sure. Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“I feel so out of control, Pete. I hate all this.”
He half stood and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “I got you something for Christmas.” He presented me with a small, flat box. “A while ago now. You never wanted it before, you know.”
I tore off the paper. Inside lay a silver chain with a teardrop-shaped silver pendant.
His lips curled up in his lazy smile. He said, “It reminded me of you.”
“God, Pete, I …”
He sat back on the bench and I leaned forward. I was going to kiss him—it felt right and I was going to follow my heart. I was just about to place my lips on his when he held up a hand so his finger rested on my mouth.
“Amy,” he said softly.
“What? What’s wrong?” I murmured into his warm finger.
“It’s too late. I’m back with Kitty Moss. She’s, you know, no
t so bad … well, apart from the Facebook thing. I’m not the guy I used to be. I’m not going to mess her around.”
I pulled back, stung. “She’s so mean to me. God, anyone else would be better.”
“Yeah. She doesn’t like you very much,” he said, looking down at the ground. “I feel bad about that. If I’d ever thought you’d come around, I wouldn’t have started it with her. I wouldn’t. But you made it so clear I wasn’t good enough for you. She never made me feel like that.”
“What’s this, then?” I gestured at the necklace angrily.
“I’m still the baby’s dad. I—”
I said, “No, I’m being stupid. Of course you don’t want to be with me. Look at me. I get it.”
He raised his voice. “No, you don’t get it. You never did get it. You always thought you knew what was going on in my head. You always assumed you knew who I was. But you never did.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “You’re right. I just wish I hadn’t waited so long.”
He slumped back. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”
TOP TIP 34: DON’T CRY BECAUSE IT’S OVER; SMILE BECAUSE IT HAPPENED. AND IF YOU CAN’T DO THAT, FORCE A SMILE ON YOUR FACE AND SOB INTO YOUR PILLOW LATER
I said, “Can we at least be friends?”
He considered my offer. “You could do with a friend,” he said. “Seems like no one’s talking to you.”
I laughed. It was the first time I’d laughed in ages. “Yeah, well, I’m not Miss Perfect anymore.”
He said, “I like you better this way.”
“I thought you liked me before.” I raised an eyebrow.
He smiled.
I tugged my camera from my bag. “I want to take a photo of you.”
“Sure.”
“You look great against the sky.” I angled myself and snapped a photo. Outlined by the blue he looked even more handsome than usual. “It might not be easy for me to be friends with you,” I said from behind the camera.
“Why’s that?”
“I mixed up being friends and being a couple when I was with Griffin. I never had the right sort of feelings for him. Now it’s the other way round. Being friends with you when I have, you know, feelings …”
“Yeah. Happens to girls around me,” he joked. “They can’t control themselves.”
“Oh, I’ll be able to control myself,” I said. “Control is my middle name.”
“Sure,” he said. “If you say so.”
CHAPTER 23
Mon 20 June
Dear Miss Take-Control,
Im broken-hearted. I loved this guy but I let him go and its too late to be with him. Ive ruined my life.
HaleyB
Dear HaleyB,
I have a confession to make to you. To everyone, really. Miss Take-Control-of-Your-Life was the worst name for me. I was just Miss Take. MissTake. A big Mistake. I’ve been so sure of myself, telling you all how to live, fully believing we all have control over our lives, but I realize my whole website is based on a lie. We don’t have control over our lives. We just have control over how we take things.
You could be me, HaleyB. I messed up a relationship with a guy I really like, all the while breaking the heart of my boyfriend because I was never brave enough to tell him we weren’t right together. I ignored my best friend and now she hates me. I’m not even speaking to my mum, although she did exactly what I should have done months ago: she followed her heart. I was too caught up in my own mess to see that she might be better off.
And if I’m really being honest, I should tell you that I’m pregnant. Huh. Me. Miss Not-So-Perfect-After-All. Miss Definitely-Not-in-Control-of-Anything.
So this is an apology to all of you. An apology for me being so sure of myself while doling out advice. I should have come clean and told you ages ago that I don’t know the answers. I just don’t. I should have come clean and told you that all the advice I’ve been giving, I haven’t followed at all.
I’m sorry,
Amy
TOP TIP 35: ADMITTING YOU CAN’T KNOW IT ALL IS SCARY FOR A CONTROL FREAK (LIKE ME)
I shut down the website. I didn’t have time to think about it anymore—I had to get ready for my first prenatal class. Pete promised to be there for the next one, but Kitty had told him she didn’t want him to go with me this time. I longed for someone to be there by my side, and that made me miss Cleo. I texted her—not that she ever replied.
I’m still sorry. And I miss you. Wish you were around today.
Life without you in it isn’t as good. Amy xxx
I decided to walk to the hospital rather than get the bus. I’d been walking every day to relax. I wandered along, stopping to look up at the bushy trees. Birds scattered in flight from the branches, calling to one another. Pink clouds floated above, tinged with the warm morning light. The baby was wiggling inside me, his movements less pronounced than they used to be as he slowly ran out of room. I felt that summer had slipped into my veins. Soon all this would be over and I could get on with my life.
A car horn beeped, making me jump.
Cleo waved from the open window. She said, “What are you grinning about?”
“It must just be hormones. And the fact it’s so sunny.”
“Your dad said you’d walked this way. Apparently you’ve got a class today, for … you know.”
I nodded.
“I passed my test.”
“You passed! Congratulations!”
“Get in. I’ll drive you.”
I looked at her smiling up at me. I said, “I’m really sorry I was so self-absorbed. You were right about—”
“We are absolutely not ever mentioning that again. Okay?”
“Why today? It’s not like I haven’t been calling you and texting you forever.”
“I dunno. That text was different—I just realized I didn’t want to fight with you anymore. Plus I saw your website. It made me feel very sorry for you.”
“I am really sorry. I meant every word.”
“Stop. No more. Promise you won’t bring it up again.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “If that’s what you want. Deal.”
“Now get in the car. We’ve got a class to get to. Are you going to invite me to come or what?”
“You want to?”
“Sure,” she said. “We can’t have you looking all lonely and teenage and pathetic all by yourself. You’ll give other teenagers a bad name.”
“I’m not pathetic,” I said.
“Now you’ve got me, you’re not,” she said. “Now get in.”
THE CLASS COMPLETELY FREAKED ME OUT. EVERYONE WAS THERE with a boyfriend or a birthing partner or their mum, and when I glanced over at Cleo as all the pregnant women huffed and puffed and practised breathing, I could see she was just as freaked out as me. Then they showed a horrifying video and I would have started crying if Cleo hadn’t gripped my hand and given me this look that made me burst into laughter.
The woman running the class raised her eyebrows and said, “Birth is a beautiful experience. No need to be afraid.”
I looked briefly back at the screen. What I was seeing was not in any way beautiful. Cleo had her face dipped down, so I couldn’t see her expression, but I could tell from her shuddering shoulders that she had the giggles.
By the time we were eventually released from the room, the pair of us were in hysterics. “Oh God, Cleo,” I said, trying to control myself, “there’s no way I could ever do that.”
She took a breath and looked at me seriously. “I could be there, you know. As a birthing partner or whatever it’s called.”
“I—” I paused. I suddenly wanted my mum and I wished I’d answered one of her calls or replied to one of her texts over the last few months. “I just don’t know, Cleo. I can’t even think about that right now. But thank you.” I reached out and squeezed her hand. “So how’s Xavier?”
“You would be very proud. I told him I never wanted to see him again.”
“Really? That’s
great.”
She tucked her arm in mine. “You and me, we’re going for coffee, or whatever it is you’re drinking—camomile?” She giggled. “We have a lot to catch up on. Then, after that, we’re going to your house to pack the bag that woman told us you need for the hospital. I can’t believe she didn’t put makeup at the top of the list of essential items for a girl in labour.”
AFTER ANOTHER ONE OF OUR RELENTLESS EXAMS A FEW DAYS later, Cleo and I walked back to my house together. Since the prenatal class, we were back to hanging out all the time. She was carrying my bag over her shoulder, and as we swung into my street, she said, “I can’t believe school’s nearly finished for the year.”
“I know. Great. What are you doing this summer, besides Jamaica?”
“Um, writing a little. I figured I’d try to do some travel stuff and see if I could pitch it somewhere.”
“You already sound like a pro.”
“And I’m thinking about which university I’m going to apply to,” she added. “Hey,” she said, “what’s up?”
“Nothing. You know.”
She came to a stop and put her hands on her skinny hips. “You’re thinking about Pete Loewen again.”
“No.” I swiped at her. “No, it’s not him. Although what he sees in that stupid Kitty Moss is totally beyond me.”
“All right, all right, don’t start that. I mean, sure, she’s blonde and pretty, not pregnant, willing to follow him round like an adoring pet.”
“She is not pretty. She’s gross,” I cried. “But the not-pregnant thing is probably attractive.”
“So what is it?”
“It’s stupid. I just think a lot about the baby. I still want to, you know, keep it.”
She slapped a hand against her forehead. “How will you do anything you want to do if you do that? What about Oxford?”
“Yeah, you know, I’m just not so sure about that anymore. I feel like my big plan might not have been such a great plan for me—”