One perk about having enough credits to only have to go to school for half a day was that I could leave at lunch and not be subjected to what the cafeteria called food while surrounded by a bunch of adolescent idiots.
Which was perfect because Junior started screaming in the car on the way home.
My shoulders tightened, and my knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as I was forced to listen for almost two miles. I was a frazzled set of nerves by the time I pulled into the driveway and rushed inside, setting the doll on the kitchen counter. "What's wrong with you?" I asked it, silently wishing a message would scroll across its face telling me exactly what to do.
Instead, I was left to figure it out on my own. The doll had come with one reusable diaper, and I vaguely remembered Mr. DePaul saying we had to remove it and replace it to simulate a diaper change. Two minutes later, I think I had it back on the right way, but Junior was still screaming its electronic head off.
"Bottle," I whispered, rummaging through my bag for the fake bottle with the sensor built into the tip. "Let me just stick a bottle in his mouth and pray it works."
Thank God it did. The electronic crying turned into sucking and cooing, indicating a happy baby.
Too bad I didn't share its contentment. I slumped against the kitchen counter and held the bottle in the doll's mouth until the noises stopped.
If Eastline High wanted to discourage teen pregnancy, their point was well taken. I was going straight to my family doc and demanding to be put on the pill pronto, even though having sex was the furthest thing from my mind right now.
Of course, the minute I thought about sex, that little flopping in my stomach that appeared every time I was near Brett returned, the unwelcome little nuisance. I needed a date with someone the exact opposite of Brett Pederson. Someone mature, intelligent, politically correct.
Oh, screw that. I just needed a good old-fashioned make out session with someone.
Just not him. He was way too dangerous for my liking.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Morgan. "Do you want to hang out at The Purple Dog tomorrow?"
"I dunno," she replied. "Will you have the doll with you?"
"Nope. Brett said he was going to hire his sister to babysit. I'll be childless."
"Awesome!" Her voice perked up. "I'll introduce you to Gavin, and then you can tell me what you think about him."
"And Gavin is Mr. Tattoo-less?"
"I never said he didn't have tattoos-just none that I could see. I'm sure if I got him naked, I might be pleasantly surprised."
"Time out. You just met him this weekend, and you're already talking about getting him naked?"
"I've been going through a dry spell," she countered, a pout coming through the airwaves. "The last time I got laid was July at Lake Chelan."
"Two months is such a long dry spell." I eyed the quiet doll, thanking my lucky stars that my virginal status meant I wasn't in danger of contracting one of those. "Speaking of which, who did you hook up with down there?"
"Just some hottie I met on the lake." I could see her giving a nonchalant shrug as she said it. "He liked my piercings and could do wicked things with his tongue."
"Please stop. I don't need the visuals." Especially since I had a pretty good idea which piercings she was referring to.
"You sound like you could use a good boink-fest. Should I see if Gavin has a friend to take away your V-card?"
My gaze drifted back to the doll again. "No, thank you."
YOU ARE READING
Confessions of a Queen B*
Teen FictionAlexis Wyndham is the other type of Queen B-the Queen Bitch. After years of being the subject of ridicule, she revels in her ability to make the in-crowd cower via the exposés on her blog, The Eastline Spy. Now that she's carved out her place in the...