A/N: Well, here's the first part of what's turned out to be a two-shot that I've had rattling round in my head for a little while now about one way I imagined their sibling relationship and how these events mentioned in TWTTIN went down. It works as a completely stand alone story, although it's set in the same universe as my other stories.
The Shepards and anything else you recognise belong to the talented SE Hinton, the rest is my own.
Seven weeks and five days.
It's the last hour of school on a Friday afternoon and I'm sitting in the back of the class in English Literature. I got my book open on the desk in front of me, except I doubt I'm even on the right page, 'cause I ain't been listening to a word the teacher is saying. But it should be alright—she don't usually bother asking me questions no more, since she's probably sick of my smart mouth comments and I never know the right answer anyway
Might as well just say two months.
There's really only two reasons why I still bother with school—to see the girls and to keep Tim off my case. For some reason my brother's real insistent on me and Curly sticking it out and graduating, says it'll make a difference. But honestly, I don't see why it's a big deal so most the time I don't even try.
Or maybe eight weeks, that don't sound quite so long as two months.
So me not listening in class ain't exactly anything unusual either, normally it's because I'm thinking about the good stuff like where I'm going after school and what I'm gonna wear and who's gonna be there. Or else I'm writing notes to pass to Jenny or Marie. Only that ain't the reason today, and I don't even bother to unfold the papers that have been passed back to me from them.
Hell, who am I kidding? Seven weeks and five days means I got to do something for sure.
Today I've been counting out the days. Again. I know it's more than a month, even though I've been trying to kid myself all day, all week really, that it ain't been that long. Only when I really think about it, I know it has to be nearly eight weeks because the last time was right before that weekend when we snuck in the drive in, one whole week before that house party, and I'm sure that party was in the second week of September because I ain't gonna forget that night.
Stupid thing is though that now I'm certain it's been that long I don't have the first idea what I should do about it.
I've thought about talking to one of the girls. Except I can't decide which one to tell, and somehow I'm not sure if I can trust either of them not to say anything to anyone, or even care what happens to me. But there again, I'm pretty sure if things were different and one of them was in my position then I'd just be calling her out for being such a damn fool. Yeah, they'd probably just laugh in my face and tell me it's my own fault for being so dumb. Only it ain't just my fault, even though that's what Ryan tried to make me think the other night when I first told him I was worried and he's been blowing hot and cold ever since I mentioned it. One minute he's saying I need to sort something out, the next minute he's saying I'm fretting about nothing and got his hands all over me again and I'm such a damn idiot that I don't tell him no. Although if I'm right—and I'm pretty sure I am—then it's too late for that to make any difference now anyways. So I figure that I might as well go with it and keep him happy at least.
No. I'm well aware that there's only one person who's gonna help me fix this and know what the hell I gotta to do to make things right. I know Curly would help me quick enough, only all he's ever wanted—long as I can remember anyways—is to be Tim. So why would I ask the imitation when I got the real thing to help me out? Curly means well but he ain't all that much older than me and I'm pretty sure he won't have any more idea how to fix this than I do. Whereas Tim's spent practically my whole life taking care of things for me and Curly. So even though he bugs the hell out of me ninety percent of the time these days, he's still the only person around that I trust without question.
When we was little he'd fix my dolls whenever Curly used to break 'em. Or clean up my knees after I fell over and I guess he must have been lifting things even back then because he somehow always managed to have a bar of my favourite candy there to try to stop me crying.
People think Tim don't give a fuck about anyone but himself, but that ain't true, 'cause if he didn't care about the two of us then he could have left years before he did and just taken care of himself, instead of taking the beatings and the fights from Harry on top of all that grief from Ma telling him he's worthless just like our daddy was and trying to blame him for everything that is wrong in our family. And despite what my grades might suggest I ain't stupid, I know he took it so me and Curly didn't have to.
So it makes me feel even more lousy that I've got to go tell him that I've been doing all the things he's been telling me not to, that I promised him I wouldn't do. I know for sure he ain't gonna like it, 'cause for years he's been telling me that I'm better than all this shit and how important it is to finish school and not be easy, not let guys take advantage of me. Except I guess it ain't exactly taking advantage of me when I was wanting to do it just as much as Ryan did and I've been chasing around after him as much as he's after me.
It seemed real cool that night at the party when he first made a move on me, made me feel that I was the only girl there worth looking at, told me I was beautiful. The girls are always telling me I was pretty only it ain't the same as when a hot guy tells it to you, especially one like him, someone older and so much cooler, not just one of them jerks from school like Bryon or Ponyboy or whoever.
Suddenly there's someone saying my name, pushing my shoulder and it's Jenny trying to get my attention because the class is over. She knows there's something wrong 'cause I'm usually first out the door. And them soc bitches are laughing at me 'cause I'm still sitting at my desk. I flip them off, tell them to fuck off and they soon shut up because they know not to mess with me. If I didn't have so much to worry about I'd laugh at how terrified they look and maybe give them a piece of my mind.
As we head out the building Jenny turns to me. "You gonna come hang round down the ribbon? Might go in the bowling alley, see who's around."
"Nah, I got things to do," I reply, trying to sound cool and live up to my reputation as hard-as-nails Angela Shepard, the girl who don't get upset by nothing, while I pretend I don't hear her and Marie giggle a little.
"Why, you seeing your boyfriend again then? Got a hot date?"
I realise right here and now that Marie Jenkins is a shit stirring little bitch, making it sound like she thinks I'm some cheap slut and like she ain't never been with a guy herself. Which is a joke. 'Cause knows she's had more guys than me. Only if she gets called on it, if I make a big deal and challenge her over her attitude, she'll make out like she thinks it's real cool I gotta boyfriend three years older than me. Hell, she's probably just jealous anyways.
"Nah, I've gotta go see my brother first, so maybe I'll come meet you later," I answer, deliberately vague while I'm staring at her 'til she looks away uncomfortably. I push some gum into my mouth and once we reach the street corner, I cross the street away from the pair of them. Force myself to wave and smile and say my goodbyes, all the while hoping I don't look as terrified as I'm feeling at the prospect of what Tim's gonna say when he hears the mess I'm in.
xxxxxxx
I'm a block and a half away from Tim's place when I nearly chicken out and just head home instead. Only Ma'll be there and I've got no wish to share this with her, 'cause she'll only tell Harry and he don't need no more excuses to be yelling at me. Instead I stop in the park, the place Tim used to bring me when I was little, when Ma used to send us out the house. It's quiet here today and I just sit here on the swings, glad it's empty. I don't know what the time is, I only know we left school at three then had stood chatting outside for what felt like ages. Then I'd walked real slow and stopped in the drugstore to read the magazines until the assistant realised what I was doing. So I figure that it usually takes me an hour to walk home when I go the long way past the store. And its Friday so sometimes Tim finishes work a little early but although I still don't think there'll be anyone home just yet I must have been sitting there for close on thirty minutes now and I'm getting cold so I make myself carry on down the street.
I can't deny feeling a tiny bit relieved that his car ain't on the drive yet. There's someone home though, the window is open a little and I can hear the radio. Guess it's his girl who's back from work already. Me and her ain't exactly friends, but she ain't bad either. I wouldn't say it to Tim but it's good he's got her, cause otherwise he'd probably be back in jail by now. So even though it's crap that he don't live at home no more, I'd rather he was two blocks away with her where I can at least come visit instead of two hours drive away back in McAlester.
She opens the door with a smile on her face. She's always fucking smiling at me and telling me I'm welcome there any time when I come round and sometimes I wonder if she's ever had a really crappy day in her life because no one should be that happy all the time, especially if they gotta live with Tim. Only then that makes me feel guilty as I remember her daddy died and that she had that loser before Tim who treated her like shit. And any idiot can see she's good for him. So although we ain't never gonna be friends I try to be polite, especially 'cause I know he'll be pissed enough with what I've got to tell him without me upsetting her too.
"Hi, is Tim home?" I find myself asking, even though it's obvious he ain't.
"Should be back any minute, you want to wait?"
Looking around I suddenly got no wish to be stuck inside. "Okay, can I wait out back?"
"Sure." She looks at me, concerned, but don't ask nothing else and for that I'm grateful.
There's an old bench seat outside the back door and I sit down, picking at my finger nails and counting the seconds in my head, hoping he gets here soon before I lose my nerve. About five minutes later she reappears, sitting next to me.
"Here, I brought you this," she says, handing me a soda and looking at me like she's genuinely interested in why I'm there and for a couple of seconds it makes me feel like a real cow for all the shitty things I've ever said about her. "You okay?"
"Just want to talk to Tim," I mutter, knowing I sound like an ungrateful bitch and she's only trying to help. Curly spends half his time over here these days. Says she helps him with his school work without making a big deal out of it, because Tim's told him he ain't dropping out and he ain't gonna be allowed to repeat the year a second time so he needs all the help he can get after all the time he's missed when he's been in the reformatory or just through sloping off. But on the other hand she ain't really family—and if I can't even tell my own mother what's going on then I sure as hell ain't telling her.
"No problem, just wanted you to know I'm here if you need me." She walks away before I can answer, before I can make some smart comment back at her, and really it's quite nice to think she might actually give a damn. Especially as Tim's most likely gonna lose it big time.
We first got together at that house party back in September. It's been a hell of a lot less bother going out since I know Tim's gonna be off making nice at home with his girl rather than bawling me out when he catches me in a bar, and it was fun to get some attention from a real man for a change. 'Cause Ryan made all the effort, getting me drinks and telling me how good I looked, how he liked my hair and my clothes and that I was the best looking girl in the place.
Curly was there that first night too, saw us kissing and where Ryan had his hands. And my stupid, embarrassing, brother had decided to act like he was actually concerned about me, warning Ryan off before he dragged me to one side and told me straight up in front of all my friends that I was an idiot, that I should stay away and that Tim would kill me if he found out who I was wasting my time with, that I'd been fooling around with one of his sort-of-friends. Kinda wished I'd less tensed to him too, wouldn't be sitting here if I had. But of course, at the time, all Curly's bitching had only made me want Ryan even more. So I did what I did best and persuaded my brother that there wasn't nothing going on. And I guess it was the same for Ryan, that he liked the challenge of getting with me, 'cause later that night when Curly was busy someplace with Debbie Turner, Ryan talked me into going for a drive with him, and then, well, one thing led to another, and here I am today, without a clue what I should do about it.
The sound of Tim's car stopping out front brings me back down to earth with a bump. I hear the door bang shut, his footsteps in the hall and their voices as they speak. It isn't long before he appears beside me and I can see from the look on his face he knows I ain't here for a social call.
"Angel," he says, standing in the doorway. "To what do I owe this honour?"
"Just need to speak to you," I mumble, annoyed with myself for sounding so apologetic, so pathetic.
"Yeah? So what do you need to say?" Tim asks, sitting next to me.
Looking down at my hands again, it's a struggle to find the words and it seems like an eternity before I say anything. I just wish I could get on with it. Seems from his expression that Tim feels the same, although I'm pretty sure that he'll be wishing I ain't said nothing soon enough.
"I think I'm in trouble."
"Why? What happened? You in trouble at school? Someone hurt you? Threatened you?"
He looks real mad as he runs through questions, even though he's trying to keep his voice even, to sound calm.
I swing my feet a little, like I used to when I was a kid, and then I tell him. "I...I think I'm... You know..."
"No, I don't know, so you're gonna have to just say it."
"I think I'm gonna have a baby."
"What the fuck? How?" From the look on his face now I've I finally get the words out, I reckon I might just as well have slapped him.
"Well, you know." My cheeks are burning and right now I wish I was somewhere, anywhere, else.
"Jesus, Ange, that ain't what I'm asking and you know it. You're just a fucking kid."
"I'm sixteen."
"Sixteen, still in school. How in hell are you that stupid?"
"School's shit. And you had girls when you was in high school. Hell, she was still in school when you were first chasing about after her, and I'm pretty sure you were doing a whole lot more than just holding hands." My tone is defensive as I jerk my head towards the house, although pretty soon I regret my words as its obvious I've only made him more angry.
"Damn it, Angela, we ain't here talking about me, because you know what? I had the good sense to take precautions not to end up in this kind of mess." He stands up, then instantly sits back down. Takes a deep breath, shakes his head. "Life's shit at the best of times round here, and it's even more shit if you ain't got no hope of getting anything better. But I guess it's too late for us to be having that conversation because you don't never listen to a word I say to you."
Tim's on his feet again now and this time he walks away across the yard, paces around, hands jammed in his pockets. Reckon he's trying real hard not to shout at me right now and that kind of makes me feel worse. At least if he was then I could yell and curse right back at him. But the look of utter disappointment on his face when he turns back round to look at me again is ten times worse than him yelling ever could be.
"You're absolutely sure?"
"Yeah." I hang my head, can't bear to look him in the eye.
"So what you want me to do about it?" he asks, the fact he's suddenly so composed and back to business takes me by surprise so all I can do is shrug.
"Jesus, Angela, this ain't a fucking game."
"Yeah, I know."
"You told Ma?"
I shake my head.
"Anyone else know?"
I nod.
"Who else?"
I swallow, the words sticking in my mouth. "My boyfriend."
Its a bit of a stretch to call him my boyfriend, being as all we do is fool around in his car, or at Bucks, or at his place if there ain't no one else home. But like Ryan says, my brothers won't let us date anyways. So it's the only way we can be together, and every time we are together he tells me how much he loves being with me. So I call him my boyfriend because it's bad enough having to tell Tim I'm in this mess without making myself sound even more of a cheap slut in the process.
"Who is this guy and what's he got to say about it?"
"He said that I'm probably worrying about nothing. But he still wants to see me so it ain't like he's run out on me is it?"
"So what're you looking to do about it?"
"What you mean?" Because really, I was hoping he'd tell me what to do, not make me choose myself.
"Well, seems to me that you got three options. You get rid of it. You go live in a home for unmarried mothers and have the kid then put it up to be adopted. Or you get married."
Oh god. Those options, my practical brother saying it all like that. I'd thought of the first two but hadn't even considered the last. Then it hits me that if anyone can make it happen for me it's Tim. Maybe it isn't exactly perfect or romantic, but then no one's life is like the movies, at least not round here. Lots of people got married young. Plus it would get me away from high school, and home. Away from Ma and Harry going at it every day.
Before I can stop myself I realise I'm saying it out loud, "Get married, I want to get married."
"Who is he?" Tim demands.
"What're you gonna do to him?"
"Who is it, Angela?"
"Promise me you won't hurt him?" I ask, well aware that it's probably the most ridiculous thing I have said to Tim all afternoon.
"Just answer the damned question, Angela," he sighs, running his hand through his hair. "'Cause how the hell do you expect me to sort this and make this lowlife do the right thing by you if I've got no clue who it is you've been screwing around with?"
I take a deep breath, finally admit the truth of it to Tim. "Ryan. I've been seeing Ryan Lang."
