CHAPTER3
1090 Words
The silence was deafening.
Gray and Gustin traded uneasy glances before focusing their eyes back on me.
Finally, Mom broke the tension with a nervous chuckle.
“Great joke, honey,” she said, laughing awkwardly.
Another silence. I kept my head bowed, staring at the floor. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from saying anything that could make this situation worse.
It was Gustin who broke the stillness this time. “Mom,” he said softly, holding her wrist. “I... I don’t think she’s joking.”
Another pause.
Gray coughed into his hand, the sound echoing in the quiet room for just a moment. Mom’s gaze darted to Dad, who was still seated silently. Sweat was already forming on her forehead. Finally, Dad seemed to snap back into reality. He stood abruptly, not saying a word, and marched straight up the staircase to their bedroom. We all watched, frozen, as he returned moments later. And when we saw what he was holding, that’s when chaos erupted.
“Greg, put the gun down!” Mom’s voice quivered.
I gulped in terror. Of course, he’d have a gun—he’s a town policeman. Damn it.
“I’m going to kill the bastard who ruined our daughter’s future!” Dad raged.
My brothers scrambled to grab hold of him before he could leave the house. I ran to block the door, but Dad shoved me aside with ease. Mom was pleading with him, but his fury drowned out her voice. We spilled out into the front yard. Dad still clutched the gun tightly in his hand, his face a mask of rage.
“Where is he?” he shouted.
“Dad, please. Find your happy place!” I begged.
“There is no happy place until I know who that guy is!”
Shittake mushrooms. My mind was spinning. My stomach churned—not from the baby, but from sheer panic.
“Who is the father of that child, Samantha?!” Dad demanded, his fiery gaze boring into mine.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper. My eyes darted from side to side, desperately searching for an escape—any escape. A comet crashing into the yard right now would have been perfect.
And then I saw him.
A snowy-gray-haired guy was walking past, whistling casually. His hair was a mess, as if he’d forgotten to comb it that morning. His face was oddly familiar, but my brain was too fogged up to figure out why. Without thinking, I pointed straight at him.
“It was him!” I blurted out.
The whistling stopped as the guy froze mid-step, his face morphing into pure confusion.
“What?” he asked.
“He’s the father!” I shouted.
“What?!?”
The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the living room, perched awkwardly on the sofa. Beside me was the same guy from earlier.
Mom sat in a chair across from us, her expression a mix of worry and disbelief. Dad and my brothers loomed over us, their arms crossed like we were suspects in a high-stakes interrogation.
“This is crazy. I don’t even know this girl!” the guy sputtered, standing up. He froze when Dad raised his gun again, and he sank back onto the sofa slowly.
“Did you or did you not get my daughter pregnant?!” Dad roared.
“I told you, no!” he shot back.
Oh no. I had to do something.
“Snookie-poo,” I said sweetly, grabbing his arm and cuddling up to him. Yuck. What the hell is a “snookie-poo”? But desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Get your hands off me!” he shouted, trying to pull away.
“Why are you being like this, snookie-poo?” I cooed, resisting the urge to gag.
“You’re crazy!”
“Enough!” Dad yelled, adjusting his grip on the gun.
The guy yelped and grabbed a pillow from the sofa, using it as a pathetic shield. It would have been hilarious if the situation weren’t so terrifying.
“I’m gonna kill you if you don’t tell the truth, boy!” Dad threatened.
“What truth? I told you, I don’t even know her!”
I kept up the cuddling act, spouting ridiculous pet names, pretending to be insulted every time he denied knowing me.
“Why are you denying our daughter?” Mom asked gently, her voice calm but piercing.
“I’m not—” He stopped and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You know what? Go ahead. Kill me.”
The room fell silent.
“I’m just saying,” he continued, “it’s possible that I may or may not have... slept with your daughter and just... don’t remember.”
“Really, Sam? This guy?” Gray asked, incredulous.
“Yeah. What a jerk,” Gustin muttered.
They weren’t wrong. He was a jerk. But not as big of a jerk as Cameron. Oh, if only they knew.
Dad lowered the gun slightly. “I’m not gonna kill you. Not yet.”
The guy visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
“I know who you are,” Dad said coldly. “You’re Tom. Tom Miller.”
My heart sank. Why did that name sound so familiar?
“You’ve got yourself quite a record, Miller. Been in a lot of trouble, young man. Lucky for you, you’re still a minor,” Dad added.
And then it hit me.
Tom...
Tom...
Tom Miller, aka King Tom. The school thug. The guy who vandalized lockers with crude drawings. The one who was rumored to have paralyzed a gym teacher over an argument.
This just keeps getting better.
Tom stood up again, more cautiously this time. “Sir, it’s just hard for me to believe I could get someone pregnant.”
“Why?” Mom asked.
“Because I use a condom! I always use a condom!”
“Well, the condom broke,” I mumbled. Shittake mushrooms. I really need to learn when to shut up.
Dad’s glare could have melted steel. “I don’t care. You’re going to take responsibility for what you’ve done,” he declared.
“Wait. What?” Tom and I said in unison.
“Starting tomorrow,” Dad continued, “she’s going to live with you.”
Silence. A crow could have laid an egg in the middle of the room, and no one would have noticed.
And then, the inevitable...
“WHAAAAAAT?!”
- Writer
