The Bad Boys Baby

Chapter 11 - The Deal

Isabelle P.O.V

"There's a heartbeat," the doctor points to the tiny fetus on the screen. "You're six weeks along."

I nervously nod. My mom smiled viewing the screen. That's her grandchild, my child. One I don't want.

They were pushing down on me, making me feel guilty. I just want to feel at ease like everyone else seems.

"You want a boy or girl?" the nurse asks while writing something on her clipboard. There it is again ready to crush me. Guilt.

"I don't know," I lied, I didn't want to tell her that I don't want it. It felt inhuman but true.

The petite brunette finished her writing and shook her head in response. "I have one of each, and that was it," she paused. "But I love my little troublemakers."

She was trying not to freak me out. Little does she know, I don't plan on keeping my troublemaker.

A quick fifteen minutes later, we had signed out and made it home. "I need to look up an agency, mama," I whisper.

"An agency?"

"Yup, an adoption agency."

"Oh, right," she sighs, pushing the same pressure her smile had given early. With her and Ryder, I don't think I can make it the rest of the nine months. I'm selfish.

Guilt and fear kept piercing like a room of needles and I can't move or I'll get poked. And that is exactly what I did, laid on my bed and didn't move.

It was eight o'clock in the morning. I didn't want to go to school. I didn't want to see Amity. I didn't want to see Ryder, really don't want to see Ryder. The outside of this room terrifies me. Out there is reality and right here is ignorance but I'm okay with that.

"Belle," she has been yelling for last half an hour, "Come on or you're taking the bus, Belle!"

Trying to get out of bed was impossible. This baby was literally weighing me down. "I don't want to go." I screeched.

Steps slowly ascend up the steps. Tightly tugging the covers over my head to avoid eye contact. Then the door creaked open. Time slowed down anticipating the words of my mother forcing me to go to hell. Then the door creaked once more. I loosen up in hope that my mom had taken my hint and given me a break. I peek over the comforter.

"Damn it," I mumbled to myself. Gratefully she didn't hear it.

"You can't be missing school," her brows furrowed and eyes laced with concern, "You've got this week and after that, you got two weeks to relax, and process this."

I don't need to process. But I don't want to go. "Fine," I compromise. I love school but I'm sick of feeling so alone in a crowd of people.

I dragged my sorry ass out and threw on some clothes. My, patched up, dark blue ripped skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, and my old chucks. I had no need to impress but I could've done worse. I managed to pull my hair up into a ponytail, and for as a face, nothing. I was death itself.

"Ready," I conjure.

"You sure?" My mom calls out.

Wetness unexpectedly fills my vision. "Well, I thought I was," continuing crying over something so trivial. I storm up the stairs.

"Honey," My mom laughs, "You look fine just wash your face and get some coffee."

"It's not funny," I let out muffles as I shove my head into my pillow.

"Come on."

School was made out to be worse in my head. Yes, I'm alone. Yes, I have to avoid Ryder, but I was able to take my mind off of it instead of dwelling at home.

That was until lunch. At first, it was cool, I got food and Ryder hadn't even shown up. I left the cafeteria with my salad and went to the commons.

"You going to let me speak this time," a familiar voice came from behind me.

"I don't think it's needed," I say before hurrying to the library.

"Please, at least let me explain," Ryder takes ahold of my hand, "Please."

"What Ryder?"

"Come here," He uses his head to point to the right.

We travel further than I intended. He sat down on a bench.

"I let you explain. I don't want to sit here and talk," I crossed my arms.

"It's a long story."

"I don't have time for this," I try to walk off.

His eyes watered as he took hold of my shoulder. Hands cold to the touch. I obliged and sat along with him. I opened my lunch while I look forward to his long story.

"Fuck," He ran his hand through his hair revealing a scar on his forehead. "My parents and I know this isn't the greatest excuse, but they grounded me."

"What'd you do?"

"Um, I got caught for something," He put his head down.

"What?" I ask.

"I got caught with something, but that's why I didn't have my phone. As for showing up to school, I went with my dad for a case in California. My mom insisted I learn the business. I think they believe I'm hopeless."

"The booze, drugs, and parties don't help," I mumble, chowing down on my lettuce.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but I don't need you riding up my ass too."

I was shocked. My intention was meant to hurt him or irritate him.

I can see why his parents were upset; they want the best for a son that wants the contrary. School, Football, and now a baby, to concentrate on. The fact he even got me pregnant is irresponsible.

"Ryder, self-medicating doesn't really scream hope. Does it?"

He shakes his hair. "No, it doesn't. Isabelle, I like you. Our date meant something."

"It just shows that were sixteen, seventeen-year-olds, that shouldn't have a baby. I'm not changing my mind, Ryder. I just need you on board for when I give the baby up. You can help me choose fitting parents and filling out papers, but I can't do 'this'," I exclaim, relieving myself of a little guilt.

I was right. We were in no place to raise a baby.

"But...," he let out before Niagara falls fell from my cheeks.

"No, Ryder. We can't," He looked at me in disbelief. I mean, I would too; I'm balling over nothing. "Please, the baby deserves more than us. Promise me that you sign the papers and help me find good parents. That's all. Deal?"

He hesitates. My heart beats as fast as the speed of light. This is all I ask of him. "Tell me, Ryder, please."

"Deal."

He pulled his hand up to face to wipe my wet cheeks and walked off.

I wanted to tell him 'stop, I like you'. I didn't. I wasn't ready to get hurt by the bad boy.