Confessions of a Queen B*

Untitled Part 13

I pretended to read something on my laptop, rage simmering just beneath my skin. Forget any shreds of respect I might have had for Brett. He and Summer deserved each other.

"Your social activities can wait until after class." He pulled out the bin of babies again. "Okay, today we're going to go over the intricacies of the dolls you'll be carrying around for the next two weeks. Let's start with the need for you to be very gentle with them, not only because real babies are delicate, but because these are sensitive pieces of equipment that run about nine hundred dollars a pop. If you break one of them, you'll not only get an F, you'll also get a bill. Are we clear?"

He waited until most of the class nodded. "Now that we've laid down the most basic rule, come up and get your doll and your project codes."

Brett got ours and brought it back to the table, fascinated by the miniature computer disguised as a baby. He pointed to an unnatural opening on the doll's back. "USB drive. This must be where DePaul gets the information from at the end of the project."

Before I could ask him to explain that, Mr. DePaul launched into an hour-long lecture about the doll. How to turn it on. How to enter the project code assigned to us so we'd get credit for our time with the baby. How to simulate feeding and changing. How it was important to charge the doll every night. With every requirement, my anxiety rose a bit more, especially since he was ending each section with, "Failure to do so will result in an F."

I eyed the doll with a mixture of wariness and resentment. My class rank would not suffer because of this stupid project.

"What's wrong?" Brett asked, taking notes while he continued to look at the PowerPoint presentation in the front of the class.

"I'm not very maternal."

"No shit."

"Aren't you worried about screwing up and failing?"

He shook his head. "I have three little sisters. Been there, done that as far as babies are concerned."

Thank God one of us had a clue what to do with this doll. "So you're going to show me how to change a diaper, right?"

"Why don't you ask your mother to teach you?"

"She's too busy ridding the Eastside of acne and wrinkles."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Your dad?"

"Too busy screwing his latest graduate assistant."

Then he turned to me with the one thing I never wanted to see in his eyes-pity. "Broken home?"

"Fuck you."

He laughed softly. He'd just managed to get under my skin again and exposed a weakness, and he knew it. "Okay, I'll show you how to change a diaper, but on one condition."

I dreaded to ask what, and he didn't wait for me to respond.

"You have baby duty today."

And so it begins-super jock was already trying to dump the project on me. "Why?"

"Because I need time to bribe my sister to babysit. You take the baby today, and in the morning, we can switch off, twenty-four hours at a time. Sound fair?"

I looked at the doll, still hearing Mr. DePaul threatening to give an F even though he'd stopped talking a couple of minutes ago. "Your sister is old enough to babysit?"

"She's thirteen and helps take care of the two younger ones all the time."

I wasn't quite convinced. Taylor was fifteen, and there was no way in hell I'd let her near this doll.

"You're going to have to trust me on this, Lexi."

"Don't call me that."

"Fine," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "The alternative is me taking Junior here to practice and hoping he doesn't get tackled or mistaken for a football."

"Your sister will work," I said in a rush as I visualized Sanchez tossing the baby in the air and breaking it. Then I caught something in his words that I'd missed before. "So you're not going to make me do all the work?"

"Fat chance. I want an A, and if DePaul finds out I'm not pulling my share of the work, I'm not getting it."

I cocked my head to the side, trying to decide if I believed his bullshit or not.