Chapter Twenty - The Baby Blues
"Devon Jones, I am going to say this for the last time, my name is not Simba and I would very much appreciate it if you put me down. As in...feet on floor." I said loudly as Devon held me tightly around my waist, holding me up in the air while singing 'The Circle of Life' from The Lion King so incredibly out of tune that I thought the simulator was going to start crying. My feet dangled at least half a metre from the ground as Devon stuttered slightly while serenading me with a not so great chorus from a great Disney movie. I peered down at him from my great height, an eyebrow raised, clutching baby George to my chest. Devon begrudgingly put me back down on the floor, so I could walk home properly. I gave him a look. "I am only saying you should put me down because of the baby. I don't want it to start screaming here. We're not even home."
"Spoil sport. I was getting to the good bit of the song and everything." He muttered, obviously fed up with me and my baby blues. "It was going to be, like, the chorus with so much power behind it that everyone stars to bend down before us, and-"
"I'm sorry that I literally do not want to grab the attention of every single living organism in this street," I said, giving Devon a firm look, "Besides, what would happen if you had dropped me?"
"But the thing is that I wouldn't have dropped you. You doubt me too much." Devon said, a sulky look taking over his features. He adjusted the strap of his extremely manly rucksack, before allowing his expression to go back to normal once more. "So...what does our kid actually look like?" Our.
"I have no idea. I haven't looked at it, I'm too nervous." I explained.
"Well, I guess we'll have to face the truth sooner or later." Devon said, stopping his walking and clasping his hands together, almost as if he was bracing himself for the worst. My heart did a weird little jump at the way he said we. I shook my head slightly and concentrated on the important matter - the fake baby. Devon sidled even closer to me and gave me an expectant look. With a sigh, I lifted the bundle of cloth and opened it. Both Devon and I inhaled sharply and gave each other a look. "Well," Devon said, "It definitely-"
"Do not say that it got it looks from me." I snapped. Devon put a hand to his heart in mock hurt.
"What impulse made you think I would say such a thing?" Devon said as he looked back at the baby simulator in my arms. Its eyes were an off sort of green, like puke, its hair so blonde it looked yellow, which went seriously well with its phlegm coloured skin. This was the baby to turn all of the other babies into stone; even its blankets were ugly. And do not get me started on the backpack. "But George does have your-" Before Devon could say another word, I had smacked him with the simulator-demon-baby across the arm, but then suddenly regretted it. We all knew what would happen if we didn't take proper care of the baby from the depths of the Underworld. Devon and I both remained frozen, not breathing, looking at each other. Fear - and I promise I am not being melodramatic - was actually evident in Devon's eyes.
Silence.
Devon took a deep breath, exhaling over a long period, "I think, Holland, my yellow-tipped friend, we have gotten somehow and unbelievably lucky with-"
Screaming!
A piercing shriek that put the local cat to shame; I was quite positive that it would have made dogs howl and bats fly off course. Also, I was seriously surprised that our eardrums hadn't burst and that we weren't lying on the floor in a pool of our own ear-blood. I looked sideways at Devon, my hands thrust outwards, trying to minimize the amount of sound we had to hear. Devon had his hands clamped over his ears and he wore a grimace, his glasses yet again at a funny angle.
"If this is what it's like to be a parent," He shouted over the top of George's shriek, "I am never becoming a parent!"
"I'm right with you on that one!" I hollered as the shrieks grew in both volume and in pitch. "Let's go home. I think we have to run!" Devon didn't need to be told twice - without even looking back, he sprinted as fast as he could away from myself and the simulator. Gee, thanks, I thought as I struggled onward towards the sloping path that would eventually lead to my house. I could see Devon in the distance as he ran like an actual madman down the sloping hill, as far away from his baby as he could manage. I could just tell that Devon was going to make a fantastic father when he was old enough.
I heard barking in the distance, knowing that Devon's footsteps had probably caused Russell to start, but as soon as I saw Russell emerge and try to run up the hill to find me and say hello, he turned around and started whimpering noisily, his tail between his legs as he cowered away.
"Devon Jones, you annoying butterfly of a boy, you come back here!" I shouted loudly, causing my throat to go rather raw momentarily. From what I could see of my house, a black and white dash had disappeared into the bushes and Devon was emerging from the front door. He was no longer covering his ears, but he would need to soon, as I had started to speed up and was quickly approaching my house. When I had eventually reached my front door, Devon managed to usher me inside. Russell was whimpering underneath the bushes outside my house.
When I got inside and had set my school things down on the floor by the door, my mother came out of the kitchen, her hands covering her ears, wooden spoon still wedged in between her fingers.
"What is that?" She asked loudly, looking uncomfortable. I could barely hear her over the sound of my banshee-child.
"Our child, George." Devon shouted. "Holland was pregnant this whole time and you didn't realise. As you can see, it has got her looks and seemingly most of her genetics. We need some expertise advise...how the Hell are we supposed to shut it up?" Devon looked frustrated and pained. My mother chuckled slightly, before gesturing with her elbow to the manly rucksack that was still slung over his shoulder. Russell had now proceeded to start howling from outside.
"Well, what have you got in there?" She queried, simply. My arms were now shaking.
"Hurry! I think both my arms and ears are going to fall off!" I said, jumping up and down on the balls of my feet. Devon fell to the floor and tipped the contents of the rucksack out and onto the floor. He rummaged through the various nappies and milk bottles and spare blankets and hats and some other things I couldn't even name. The slip of paper I had chosen from the bowl was poking out from the mouth of the rucksack, "Devon! Get the small sheet! There, there! What does it say? Hurry!"
"Er, that the baby is an only child and is a boy and is called George..." Devon said, his eyebrows furrowed and one hand holding his glasses further down his nose, "Apparently George cries a lot - great, just great - and doesn't like loud noises. Um...he likes being rocked or swung about gently. Note the gently, Holland, not being swung at the father at about a million miles an hour and being thumped onto his arm like some sort of baby-meteor. George also likes being sung to...and music is calming for him."
I started to rock George gently in my arms, humming some sort of lullaby rather frantically. I wondered how the baby could even hear me humming over the top of its own shrieking, but I figured it really didn't matter–it wasn't working anyway.
Devon was still rummaging about in the pile of baby necessities rather quickly and with such a ferocity that I was convinced that he would tear everything to shreds. I was rocking George and humming to him and it wasn't working...apparently music was calming for George...calming music...wait, Devon's phone!
"Devon! Do you think you could access your Titanic ringtone on your phone? Or do I need to call you or something?" I asked. Devon's head snapped up so fast that I was convinced he would give himself whiplash, or at least pull a tendon. Devon jumped up and wrenched his phone out from his pocket so fast he almost dropped it. As he tapped about on his phone, he wore a look that looked like he was about to kiss me or something, which would have been quite odd given the circumstance before us.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He shouted, before tapping the screen one last time and placing the phone into my arms, between the material of the swaddling and the simulator. The Titanic instrumental started playing, the peaceful piano leaving a soothing sort of feeling as it played. Even I calmed down. The baby's shrieks didn't diminish straight away, but they did get quieter and more easy to handle. After about a minute or two, my mother removed her hands from her ears and after about three, Russell stopped howling and whimpering at last. Eventually, as the music died out, so did George's crying.
"Oh thank goodness." I whispered. Russell came trotting in. His tail was no longer between his legs, but his ears were pricked up, his legs tense as if preparing himself for running away if he should need to. "I don't blame you, Russell," I said, leaning down and patting his head, "This baby is going to be a nightmare until Wednesday after school." I then turned to Devon, "Can you please stay over tonight?"
"Are you only asking this because-" Devon started, far too loudly. I shushed him and nodded quickly.
"-of the baby, yes. And please, for the sake of our sanity, be a little bit quieter. So I'm going to rephrase this: Devon, you're staying over tonight." I said, giving Devon and pointed look, holding George in as much of a threatening way as I could, as if to say 'If you say no, I'll drop it' or something to that effect. Devon raised his hands in mock surrender, but he was smiling. He was smiling that goofy, dimpled smile that actually made me feel a little bit weak in the knees when it came to thinking about it. Devon nodded and let his arms fold across his chest.
"Fine, okay. Don't give me that look, I was going to say yeah anyway! Do you really think I am that cruel as to leave you here on your own with a screaming baby simulator? Why would I want to do that? Anyway, I just need a t-shirt and maybe a pair of shorts and I'll be all set." Devon replied, turning to look at my mother. Russell was snuggling into his leg and he was patting him on the head subconsciously. My mother beamed at him, obviously very happy because of us.
"Then, Devon Jones, you're all set for a night of torture! Oh, I mean, parenting." With that, my mother scurried off cackling evilly, leaving Devon and I standing in the hallway together, completely and utterly rethinking any sort of plans to become parents we had in the back of our minds for when we were older.
* * *
"I think I'm actually going to die." Devon moaned from beside my bed. "I have a seriously bad case of Baby Blues and I'm going to die a horrific death because of it." The baby had started crying again. Although it wasn't quite the horrific shriek, it was still one o'clock in the morning and we were both exhausted. I leaned off of my bed and looked at Devon, who had uncurled himself in his sleeping bag and was looking up at the ceiling, which was now blocked by the view of my head. Devon had insisted that it was his turn for the sleeping bag, and I could tell he was rethinking his humble choice. "Supreme-cool-loser, your hair is tickling me and although it is very soft, it is very annoying."
"I'm sorry. But I know you like it really." I said, flicking my ponytail back over my shoulder.
"Since when have you been flirty?" Devon queried, his eyebrows furrowed. "I know that wasn't much but seriously! Isn't that my job?"
"Since when have you flirted with me? I didn't even know you understood the meaning of the word!" I countered, smiling.
"You could say the same thing for yourself-" Devon started.
"Kids!" I heard my mother holler through from her bedroom, cutting Devon off, "Stop flirting with one another and hurry up and sort out that child! It is actually doing my head in! It's one o'clock in the morning and I would very much appreciate some sleep!"
"I guess I'll have to go and play it some Titanic before the battery on my phone dies." Devon stated. I hummed in response and flopped back onto my pillows. Even though it was dark, I could see Devon smiling at me. Why he was smiling, I had no idea, but even though it was dark, I still liked it.