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tell her the truth. “My dad,” I say. It’s the easy way out. “He used to sing it to my mum a lot that’s why I remember it.”
    I get up and walk to the window, looking out to survey the area. Can someone climb up to the roof to get in? Chances are yes he could, if he’s determined, but Liam has a state of the art security system in place. No one is getting into this house if he doesn’t want them to.
    “Anyway, the policeman is downstairs. I was supposed to come and tell you.” I don’t look at her before I leave the room. She doesn’t ask me to wait for her, even though I’m not expecting her to.
    I open the door and head back into the hall. I walk down the stairs as quickly as I can. I need to separate myself from this situation. I just did something I’ve never done before and I’d rather forget about it.
    I smell her perfume before I hear her coming down the stairs. I mistakenly turn to watch her walk down. The memories are there, but I fight them. I don’t need a reminder. I shake my head and walk to the front door. I need the fresh air to get my mind straight.
    As soon as I sit down and light my cigarette the front door opens. I know it’s her. I close my eyes and will her away. I don’t understand why she’s hell-bent on torturing me. She sits down next to me and wraps her arms around her legs.
    “You shouldn’t do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “Smoke.”
    I stub out my cigarette and blow my smoke away from her. If she doesn’t want me smoking in front of her, I won’t.
    “Sorry, it’s a bad habit.”
    “A lot of musicians smoke,” she says. She’s right, it makes our voices raspy and the girls love that shit.
    “You’re supposed to talk to that guy in there.”
    She looks back at the house. “He’s going to ask me out. He has in the past, and I’ve always told him no, but I have a feeling he’ll say it’s for protection or something. I haven’t dated anyone since…”
    “Tell him you have a boyfriend.”
    “But I don’t.”
    “So tell him I’m your boyfriend.” I don’t know where those words come from, but the look in her eyes tells me that she likes the idea. I want to take them back, but that would be an idiot move to make. “Just because you tell him we are, doesn’t mean we have to act like it unless he’s around.” I add, just to set the record straight so she doesn’t get the wrong idea.
    “Okay.”
    “Okay,” I say, knowing I’m totally fucked.

T HE summer before my tenth grade year, I met Damien Mahoney. I was instantly in love. He was older and sexier, way sexier, than the guys at my school. That summer he asked me to be his girlfriend. I said no. I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend until I was seventeen, so that was the only answer I could give. He’d meet me after he was done with his classes and walk me home. Each day he asked again and the answer would always be the same until he finally asked me why. When I told him, he sat on my front porch and waited for my dad to come home. I watched out the window, peeking through the curtains every few minutes wondering when he’d give up and go home. He didn’t.
    I never asked my dad what he said to Damien. I was too embarrassed. The next day at school I found a note in my locker, “ We can’t be boyfriend and girlfriend, but we can pretend.”
    Hearing Jimmy say we can pretend means something else though. Damien wanted me. Jimmy doesn’t. He’s just doing it to be nice so Paul will back off. If I was smart I’d latch onto Paul and hope that maybe he’d be okay dating a pregnant woman. Maybe he wants to be a dad and wouldn’t mind taking on someone else’s child. I know in my heart that the baby’s dad won’t care. He doesn’t want kids. He doesn’t even want a wife. Josie has mentioned it in passing one time too many. As far as unplanned pregnancies go, this takes the cake.
    I could tell him, but I’m not sure I could deal with the look on his face. I don’t know how I’d take his