Saved by the Crush's Brother - Maggie Dallen

1

Avery

I’d be the first to admit I was an optimist, but even I was stunned by my good fortune in health class that day.

“Congratulations,” Mr. McClusky said in a flat tone. “You’re all expectant parents.”

I blinked and exchanged a look with my friend Hazel beside me. She arched her brows as a few kids in the back giggled.

Mr. McClusky was already moving toward the side of the room where several boxes were stacked. The head basketball coach-turned-interim-health-teacher shot the room a withering scowl as he opened the top box. “Meet your children.”

“What is he talking about?” I whispered to Hazel just as he pulled out a super creepy baby doll that made us all gasp in horror.

Hazel wrinkled her nose. “My sister told me about this,” she said. Her sister was two years older and now safely off at college, where I imagined no one ever produced lifelike dolls out of a box like some sort of nightmare.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“It’s the health class baby,” she said. “It’s supposed to teach us a lesson on how hard it is to have kids.” She shot me a little smirk. “Basically, a fear tactic to convince us all to abstain or use birth control.”

I gave her a little smile in return because Hazel and I were both members of what I’d half-jokingly termed the lonely hearts club. The two of us and our other friends were all sadly, pathetically, heartbreakingly single. “Not a problem there,” I murmured, making her snort with amusement, although the sound was lost amidst all the whispering and laughing going on around us.

The thought of my permanent singleness had me glancing across the room at Alex Luven—the boy I’d been in love with since freshman year. Tall, blond, and beautiful, he was currently grinning over something his friend was saying.

“All right, settle down,” Mr. McClusky said as he carried the baby by one arm back to the middle of the room.

He held up the doll. “Meet your midterm exam.”

Hazel and I shared a wide-eyed look of surprise. All semester he’d been talking about how important the midterm would be for our grade. Health class was only one half of the year so the midterm fell in the middle of the fall semester, right when me and anyone else who cared about their high school experience had plenty on our plates to worry about—mainly, finding a homecoming date. And some other stuff, obviously, but my first priority was to get Alex Luven to ask me to homecoming as his date.

I was also in the fall play—I only had two lines, but still. And I was falling behind in calculus, and I’d taken on too many babysitting clients to save up for college next year, and—

“You’ll pair up in teams of two,” Mr. McClusky said.

Hazel and I automatically looked to each other and the room broke into conversation but Mr. McClusky spoke over the crowd. “I’ll choose the partners.”

Sighs and groans abounded as Hazel and I exchanged pouts of disappointment.

Why did teachers always insist on doing this? Group projects would be so much easier if we could work with people we knew and trusted. I hated when they pulled stunts like this—like we were all here as some part of some social experiment and not just trying to get by so we could graduate.

“You and your partner can decide between one week of taking care of your child…” He held the baby up and we all gaped at the creepy lifelike toy. “Or you can write a paper on the topic of my choosing. No less than twenty pages. I expect those of you who choose the latter to present your findings in front of the class and provide a list of at least ten sources…”

He kept talking about what sounded like a torturous assignment but I was only half listening. This was a no-brainer. Obviously I’d take the baby. I mean, I’d been babysitting for years, and if it meant not having to write a paper then sign me up.

Of course, I’d have to discuss it with my partner…

Mr. McClusky had moved on to divvying up the class into groups of two and names were being shouted out as our teacher read from a roster.

I crossed my fingers under the desk. Please don’t pair me with a moron. Please don’t pair me with a jerk.

“Hazel Topher and Allison Hayes.” Hazel gave the shy girl in the back a little smile and I tried not to pout again over