“I promise they’re not all annoying like that thing,” Eliza said with a laugh. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nah, this is my fault for thinking this class would be an easy grade.”
“Okay. Come get me or your daddy if you need us. Try to get some sleep, honey, and stop smothering the poor thing.”
“Ain’t like it’s real,” Rett grumbled even as she moved the pillow. The doll was suspiciously quiet. She didn’t trust the silence.
“Maybe it’s best you don’t have kids,” her mother teased before pulling the bedroom door closed.
Rett stuck her tongue out at the door then sighed, staring down at the ‘baby’. She regretted ever signing up for the class. It just seemed easier than woodworking. Deciding her mother was right, Rett leaned over to turn off her bedside lamp then shoved her window up in its frame. The cool night breeze flowed through immediately. It smelled of rain, the storm that skirted past the town in the night. She shoved the doll aside, covering it with the pillow again, and sprawled across the mattress. As she laid there, her mind traveled back to when she’d caught Calum roaming around.
He had seemed genuinely surprised that she was still awake. As if he was the only one who would dare be awake after ten o’clock. He was in for a rude awakening if he thought only city folks stayed up late and slept all day. Oak Creek had its own sort of nightlife, even if it wasn’t what Calum Wilson was accustomed to.
Many nights, Rett had laid in bed just like she was, listening to the teenagers of the town sneaking out through their windows and heading to the river or the fields. Anywhere but their homes to party until the sun came up. It was a horribly kept secret in the town. Heck, half the parents would do patrols around the areas, keeping an eye on the kids through the night. They believed it was better for the teens to get their wild behavior out under supervision instead of off at college.
Her thoughts took a sharp turn. Why was Calum able to get under her skin like he had? Rett frowned and wished she wasn’t smothering the doll with her only pillow. She’d rather smother herself for thinking those thoughts. She’d never cared so much about making someone happy in her town.
It didn’t feel much like hating seeing people miserable. It was a stronger base desire, something she couldn’t explain no matter how much she wanted to. For some inexplicable reason, she needed him to be happy. She needed him to stop believing he would never belong, for him to stop waiting to get out.
Rolling over in bed, Rett stared out the window at the sky. The Big Dipper scooped its way across the sky through the stars surrounding it, its miniature clone so close yet so far. She’d wondered since childhood what was out there in the universe. Conspiracy theorists claimed aliens were already on Earth. ‘Rational-minded’ people claimed aliens didn’t exist, but Rett believed there was no way Earth was the only planet in existence with intelligent life. There were aliens, she thought, and not the little-green-men type.
She only hoped if they ever came, they came in peace. Or maybe she would be dead by that point, so what did it matter? She wouldn’t be around for a war between Earthlings and extraterrestrials.
You’re delirious, her brain whispered. She needed to sleep. It was after one in the morning. Praying the ‘baby’ would stay silent for the rest of the night, Rett closed her eyes and counted. One sheep, two sheep, three shhh…
“We are never having a baby,” she announced as soon as Calum came to the front door of Georgie’s house the next morning.
His dark hair stuck up in all directions, and pillow-lines still crossed his cheek. He must have just woken up to her pounding on the door, but Rett didn’t care. She yanked the screen dooropen and shoved the doll against his chest. His usual glower disappeared, replaced with furrowed brows and pinched lips.
“What?”
“This stupid thing kept me up most of the night,” she growled, “so we are never having a baby. At least, I’m not. You can have as many of ’em as you like, but count. Me. Out.”
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask you to be the mother of my child,” he snorted as he tossed the doll onto the couch.
“What, think I’m not good enough to be a mama?”
He blinked owlishly then looked around for support. No one was there; he was on his own. “Rett, I really don’t know what you want me to answer that with.”
“Neither do I!”
“Then why are you shouting at me?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air. The robot baby let out a squall that went ignored.
Rett deflated. She was. She was shouting at him for no good reason. Shaking her head, she hastily muttered an apology. His thin dark eyebrows drew together, but all he did was scoop the doll up off the couch. She didn’t care what he did to it—he could rip its head off, and she wouldn’t give a damn. She hated the thing. She hated herself for taking the class. Thankfully, Monday was the last day of the project. Then she could spend the rest of the semester learning about something she’d never want. The project had officially destroyed any desire she might have had for having children.
Rett pivoted on her heel before Calum could say anything else and let the screen door slam closed behind her. She stormed down the street, crossed the footbridge, and stomped the two streets over to her own house. Not bothering to take off her shoes, she fell face-first onto her bed. Sleep came quickly but, unfortunately, not for long.
Rett yawned later that night, wishing she’d slept for more than an hour earlier in the afternoon. She’d just opened her book when the first tap sounded. Frowning, she looked around for the source of the noise. Something hissed, and she turned toward the window, barely stifling a shriek at the pale face on the other side of the screen. She kneeled in front of the window and raised a brow.
“What the heck are you doin’ here?” she asked.
Calum glanced over his shoulder then faced her once more. “Can—Can I come in?”
“I… What?”
“You’ve been in my room. It’s only fair I’m in yours.”
His leer fell flat. His eyes were dark, stormy, with something she couldn’t hope to understand. Rett looked back at her door then nodded. If Calum was seeking her out, he must have had a reason. An important one. They weren’t friends, not yet. She held up a finger and rushed to close her door, hurrying back. Calum stepped back as she pressed against the edges of the screen until it popped out of place. He caught the screen, leaning it against the house, and Rett sat back on her heels out of the way. His slender frame toppled into the bedroom.
