Harper and the lacrosse guys practice for the upcoming season. They wear jackets over their uniforms and extra padding for their gloves and knees. The wind is chilly and the sun hides behind giant clouds, making him half-expect Sofia Coppola to appear and begin directing a box-office film on sneaky angels and Zen gardens.

He manages with the ball, swerving for the goal but is jabbed in the legs with another jock's rod causing a terrible downfall and a nasty scrape.

It's not purposely. The guy instantly apologizes and takes off his helmet to show his modest gratitude. It was an honest mistake but his purplish knee throbs, anyway. Coach Harmon calls timeout, sounding strangely angry as he directs them into the dugout for a "breakfast break."

"Coach Harmon seems pissed ..." Tim, a Hispanic friend with sideburns and thick eyebrows, muses. "he's never like that. People been sayin' he's having trouble with his wife."

Harper shrugs but doesn't say anything. He never even knew the coach was married because he's always seen murmuring to women teachers or helping girls into cabs when not on the field. It's none of his business to what the coach does out of school. He probably lives a normal life – works till dawn, has three daughters he'll do anything for, kisses his wife every time he leaves their Hudson Yards townhouse. Who knows? Maybe the rumors are true.

"I heard he's cheating on his girl with a Constance chick." his co-captain, Chad, drones. "His wife's all rich. Who'd cheat with a slutty schoolgirl? Seriously."

"Money is everything. Maybe that's why they're together." Tim husks and unbuckles his gloves seeing Coach Harmon create distance with his iPhone. "He's probably finalizing his divorce. Hopefully, he has a prenup."

Chad snorts. "Yeah, we all know what happened with Heather Mills and Paul McCartney. Talk about a hole in his funds."

Tim claps his shoulders. "I say much more than his funds."

"He's probably just talking to his wife about dinner." Harper speaks under his breath, drawing attention to himself and smirks to beat his Bryn's.

"Really, teacher's pet Blackwell? Defending our fave teach? You're the only one hoping for Harmon and his wife. If they break up, do you know how much free time we'll have?" Chad rolls his eyes, mocking him, per usual. Knowing his calm would never burst just to shove his face into the dirt, do his yellow teeth permanent damage, pummel him until he doesn't look like himself, damage his sanity –

Harper scratches his hair. "I'm only saying you shouldn't be gossiping unless you're hiding something. We know about everyone but you." The others are silent, listening on. "Is there something you're not telling us, Chad?"

Chad quiets, his expression crumples before he shoves an infamous finger in his face, sinning and threatening. All in one. "To hell, Blackwell." He grabs his lacrosse stick and heads for the washrooms.

"Another spat between yous guys, huh?" the teammate closest to him, Jason, inquires. "He's ya co-captain so I guess you gots to deal wit him."

He shrugs, searching for the coach. He just wants practice to end for today. It's so exhausting to deal with a pack of gossipy guys. "I guess. It's complicated."

"More complicated than your sister being pregnant?"

Harper twists around and glares furiously at Tim, who stares over his cell and avoids his murderous eyes. He skims vigorously and Harper curses, snatching the phone to discover a gossip headline with picture evidence of his sister, indeed.

Baby Blackwell?

I spy with my gossip eye – something leather. A familiar rock babe, I see. Talinda B.? Adrienne Armstrong? Liv Tyler? Lily Aldridge, maybe? Sadly, it's none of the above. But, fortunately, it's our own Rocker B purchasing not a guitar but … pregnancy tests.

The father? More unknown than January Jones' baby daddy.

As much as I adore children, diaper bags and lullabies don't fit Rocker B's lifestyle.

Scrolling, he sees photos of his sister, bedecked in Ray Bans and her typical uniform (leather jacket, white blouse, Doc Martens, short skirt), holding a plastic bag with numerous boxes, swigging water with no cigarettes in sight, even having a hand on her belly in a closeup. He knows he shouldn't be jumping to conclusions but with all this as proof …

He bites a nail. Working through a second. Third. Fourth. And so on.

His sister is pregnant? Kid sister? Younger-than-him little sibling? It's so sick, just the thought.

He wishes he could drain his head of memories. Only these. The worse – they don't even count, anyway. They're only distractions and distractions should be erased. Wiped. Deleted.

The jar of his thoughts breaks and he sighs, an exaggeration. But it's becoming more of a distraction.

X

"… and then Beatrice sworn she could beat me out of the Continental Crisis Charity."

"Princess Beatrice?"

"The very one."

Claire's minions giggle noisily as Claire smiles over them. They sit on the Met Steps and hold espressos, Claire's choice, mostly because … she's their leader. And no one would dare to disobey her. Especially with only a finger-count of brain cells.

"She must be jealous especially of your style. Compared to her …" a girl claims and allows herself a sip of cappuccino. "she's always been low-rate."

"I'm sure Eugenie is jealous. She always has been. It's what she is after all." Another girl narrows her eyes and scratches her nails. "A has been, much like a double-agent servant, who writes tell-all memoirs. It's become so familiar in the UK. She probably will."

Their queen grins. "Most definitely."

"Clarissa," Bryn fakes a grin and approaches, holding her guitar and a leather hobo bag. "my favorite demon. You're looking mighty fine. Think we can have a chat –" She looks around the nosy bees. "Alone?"

Before either can speak, the minions pipe in rapidly.

"Oh, Bryn! You're pregnant!"

"Are you having a boy or girl?"

"I hope you haven't been smoking!"

"Drinking is always hazardous to a child."

Claire signals the girls away. They lumber off reluctantly and Claire smiles widely, worries indenting her dimples. "Is there something wrong, Bryn?" she manages, her tone stabilizing as her face blanches when Bryn doesn't laugh or react. "I heard you haven't been smoking. Did Javier stress you out? Kenny, maybe?"

Bryn digs inside her leather bag and tosses a colorful box into Claire's lap. "Take it." she commands. "I can only take a gossip bullet for so long. Harper will go American Horror Story on me when he finds out. Blast or not, I'm not good with this." She directs again to the tiny box. "It's either take the pregnancy test or –"

"Don't say it aloud!"

Dark eyebrows lower in agitation. "Either take the test or enjoy an illegitimate child."

Her mind swirls wonderingly and she squirms. "But I'm scared, Bryn." Claire's voice tones badly and her words crack like a torn accordion. "I don't want this."

Bryn sighs, abusing her efforts. "Who does?" It traces more gratitude, which tentatively relieves Claire to some limits. "I bet celebrities didn't want kids until they came. Gene Simmons even admitted it. Kids aren't such a bad thing, I'm not trying to encourage you, but, you know, in case …" She gazes over her shoulders and grimaces. "just remember, not all kids are good."

Claire doesn't want to look. She's fearful as it is.

But she squares her shoulders and looks around, researching for her minions and a double-shot mocha espresso. Intimidation is always the key. "Aren't you supposed to be getting somewhere?"

Sadly, it never affects Bryn. "No, but you are." She taps the box. "By midnight, this better be a negative."

And she's off, leaving Claire alone with the terrifying stick. How she wishes she could scream without claims of insanity …

She, slowly, turns around as Bryn disappears inside Constance. Javier is sitting on the Met Steps with Matthew. They share a friendly conversation and for this, she almost hates him. He gets to live a normal life while she's suffering with a possible pregnancy.

Where was a nice guy when you needed him?

X

"Let's see your stomach. Lift your shirt, Miss Bryn." Bryn does so and covers a side of her ribs, twisting in different angles to show how no bump was visible. Floria bursts into laughter and claps for her. Bryn whoops and they both collapse on Constance's bathroom tiles in smarmy leather-clad limbs and spicy perfumes.

Floria pushes Bryn's shoulders and offers her a thumbs-up. "No bump, no problem."

Bryn rubs her stomach and pouts, parodying herself. "Damn it! I was really hoping for that Frances Bean!"

"Too bad, I won't be a godmother. I was so hoping." Floria wipes tears as Bryn and she slow their giggles in a stall. "Steven's gonna be punching his pillows because he's not the godfather."

"I bet he wishes he can be an uncle!"

"Maybe the father!"

"By far, his best status: St. Jude's Baby Daddy."

"Or is that more Javier's title?"

Bryn silences in seconds and Floria's eyes widen. She feels like she crossed the line. Since Bryn's early leave from the Hamptons, Javier has become a weird topic of discussion and even though it only occurred a weekend ago, it's just been awkward. Kenny hasn't been around lately either, which is also a surprise.

"Nah, it's alright." Bryn scratches her neck and looks for a suitable reply. "Guys, you know. They're so stupid, nowadays."

Floria blinks but follows along with her subject-change. Bryn knew how to avoid horrid silences and bad reactions nicely. "I hear ya, man." She nods and backs against the ugly walls. "Dudes are just ugh. Trust me. I know the worse Matts and Stevens of the world."

"Don't forget the Javiers." They agree with nods. "They're mega-assholes."

"Sorry, but there's only one mega-asshole Javier in this world." Floria raises her eyebrows a smidge. "And I believe, that's the one you confessed your love to."

Bryn slumps her shoulders, scratches her nose and rolls her eyes. "I knew it was wrong." She doesn't ask how Floria knows. Nosy Claire probably just eavesdropped on her unfortunate admittance. "You know, I'm not used to this lovey-dovey crap. I tried, even if it was an accident. Love isn't for me. It just … isn't."

Ouch.

Three of Claire's minions chortle loudly and head for the sinks. Bryn and Floria are seemingly invisible to them, which is how they like to stay. It's always better to keep this way. They wait until they're gone to continue on their subject of bad romances.

Before they can, Bryn's Blackberry signals a text and she startles for it. Scans it over, doesn't reply, jaw clenching in astonishment.

"Are you okay?" Floria leans in but Bryn hides the message and nods. "Who from, anyway?"

Bryn lulls around and pockets her phone. "Only my bro. He was asking about dinner and junk."

"Oh, um … cool." She smiles for Bryn's sake. Then, her nose twitches. "Ew, it smells totally rank."

"Weed can do that to you, dude."

Not like that but another lie. There's always more to come. And they don't always smell like teen spirit.

X

"Tinsley!" Dean dashes over to her just as she's leaving the courtyard for lunch. Bryn hadn't come to Music Instruction, so she decided not to invite her. It's been odder since she hasn't seen her all day. Gossip blasts have been targeted at her since her supposed pregnancy. Nothing exactly believable.

Dean catches his breath, hunching his palms on his knees as he does so. His uniform is sloppy and his sneakers are gross, giving him the appearance of an unattractive beggar. Something Claire would undoubtedly poke fun of, if she were here.

"Hi ..." he mutters and his breath reeks of old coffee. "we haven't spoken in so long. I didn't mean to barrage you or anything, but, have you seen Claire?"

"Earlier in the courtyard, yeah," Which was the truth. She didn't really have a motivation for lying. "She was with her usual group of girls, trading stupid rumors." Her eyebrows knit in concern. "Why? Is everything alright?"

Half of his mouth twitches in a scowl. "It's complicated."

Ah, forever the UES mantra.

"It involves Claire and it's so stupid … but, I'll tell you when I find her," His narrow eyes betray his emotions: distrust, dishonesty, disappointment. "if I find her."

Tinsley smiles for him, looking to mend his broken emotions. "I'm sure you will." she assures, her smile becoming intact. "Claire can only hide behind her minions for so long."

"As the school year can only last forever." He nudges her shoulder and works a smile. "I'll see you around?"

Her smile thickens as she waves him off. Once he's a good distance away, she grabs her phone and messages Claire: dean has been looking for u.

Barely seconds later, she gets a response: I've been tryin to keep him at bay.

Tinsley rolls her eyes and doesn't reply. She heads out and vanishes into the concrete streets.

Believable. It just isn't the word anymore.

At least not when involving Claire.

X

"We have to go see Breaking Dawn. You heard that damn movie is still in the theaters?"

"'Cause of Jacob's abs, right? That's why Tracy dragged me to go see the second movie."

Bryn accepts a cigarette from Matt. "Dude, she was a major spaz." She drags and blows smoke in the humid afterschool distance.

Matt smiles and doesn't argue. "She was. But, honestly, was a good ba …"

"Bryn!"

They both look away to see Harper, dragging a large equipment bag and seething madly. She hands her cigarette to Matt and arises off the steps, dusting herself off and preparing for his emotional blunder.

He drops his bag, his expression unchanging, grabbing her shoulders and bringing her to meet his eyes. Her height was the worst thing about her. When her boots weren't on the ground, she was harmless.

"Dude!" Matt throws their cigarettes and stubs them. Bryn directs him off.

"Please, tell me, you're not pregnant." Harper begs, his words quivering like battered machines.

Oh, goddamn Claire. "Uh, I can't exactly tell you that."

"Really, Bryn? Really?" he commands, hardening his grip. "You're sixteen –"

"Seventeen, Harper. Like the magazine."

" – seventeen! And this cannot be happening! You will not be going on some shitty MTV show! I swear on Mom if it's not …" Bryn sees a familiar blonde over his shoulders and smirks. "What are you smiling at?"

"You swore on Mom." She laughs a little. "I gotta use that now."

"It's not funny."

Matt squints and gestures over the blonde. He's obviously caught-on. "Oh, look, here's the baby daddy!" He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts: "Javier!"

Javier blinks and assesses the situation, racing over. His satchel flapping against his sides, Matt winks over the Blackwell siblings and backs off, finding himself another cigarette as he glances between them.

"Javier, tell me. None of this is true." Harper's face is reddening, looking almost comical. "You're probably the only sane one."

His eyes narrow and Javier glares at Harper, looks at Bryn in confusion. She nods and doesn't say a word. His solemn breathing deciphers an answer. "Sorry, man," he apologizes and his arms slacken. "It's entirely true."

Harper's eyes widen. He sets Bryn down and stomps off with his equipment bag, grumbling foreign curses and disappearing out into Park Avenue.

Bryn dusts off her shoulders and smiles. "Wow. He believed you over me. That's a sad case of neglecting."

Matt claps one of her shoulders. "Next time, prepare me on something like this. Cue cards, kid."

"Okay, promise on Mom." Matt laughs and heads out, leaving her and Javier alone.

Javier tucks his hands in his coat. "Prepare me, too. I wouldn't exactly be thrilled if you actually did have my child in you."

"You mean your spawn? No, thank god." She cradles her stomach mockingly. "I'd rather have my boyfriend's child in me."

The shock on his face is priceless. It's why she wants to berate and embarrass him, like he did her. "Yes, boyfriend. A guy, who hasn't known me as long, asked me out. A man admitted he would do anything and everything for me." She breaks the distance between them in three footfalls. "A man. Something you'll never be."

"Because you have such a man?" Javier caresses her hips and yanks her in, his face lowering into her throat, breath heating her ears and insides. She couldn't take this, she couldn't do this, she had someone else. "Because I know Kenneth could never treat you …" His mouth flaming her neck, seeking her. "As good as I do."

She could hear her heart, she was sure he could feel it. She couldn't stand this. She wasn't a cheater.

Bryn struggles out of his arms, finding he isn't reluctant to have her. "Don't touch me." She points at him darkly. "Get a fucking life. I already told you. Head back to your whores, I can't stand you. Leave me alone already." The words shiver on her tongue. "I hate you. I hate you."

She waits for him to speak, to proclaim his innocent, to threaten her. But he doesn't. He doesn't do anything.

So she rearranges herself and marches off.

Javier watches her vanish and smiles. Nothing could make her resist him, which he didn't have to lie for.

He sees a familiar blur of bronze curls pass him and heads for.

This day was turning out to be better than he expected.

X

Yeah, Breaking Dawn is still in the theaters, where I live. Trust me. It was better than the others … kinda.