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I still believed there was a clever mind behind the flakiness… even if her looks did nothing to support that belief. She had a guileless grin that she flashed around at every opportunity. The indiscriminate way she gave it out made her appear sincere… and perhaps a touch simple-minded. Her hair didn’t help. Both sides were shaved and the strands she did have were dyed pink.

Not only that, but she had the kind of wide, innocent eyes that made her look younger than her age. I was shocked when I pulled her academic records and found out she was twenty-five. There were only four years between us!

Part of the issue was that she appeared to be one of those people who was wildly intimidated by professors. The ones who thought we were some sort of different species.

We weren’t, and Jaz needed to learn that soon—because if that sophomore-year grade and the quality of her emails were any indication, she could very well be on a path to being one of us.

But I would have to think about Jaz’s issues later, because again, she was sitting in my office with a baby on her lap.

A baby that, apparently, I was now responsible for.

“Did you figure anything out?” Jaz asked.

“Not a thing.” I took Gretchen from her and held her up to examine her—except Jaz made a small noise and grabbed her back again. “What are you doing?”

“If you don’t mind me telling you what to do, you have to hold newborns like this so their heads won’t fall back. See?” She showed me the way she’d held her earlier. “Their necks aren’t strong enough to support their heads yet.”

“Oh.” I took the child a second time, and although her eyes opened briefly, she fell asleep again as soon as I cradled her properly. “How do you know that?”

“I have a lot of younger cousins,” she said. “Once they were born, my sisters and I were the obvious choice for babysitters. Neither of them was interested, so I gave it a try.” She gave a wry grin. “Not exactly the best way to become the cool kid on the block, but I saved a little money and learned a lot about little kids.”

“Hmm.” I was still staring at the baby.

“Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want my life story right now.”

Or ever, really… but I kept my mouth shut.

“What are you going to do about Gretchen?”

She passed me back the note I’d accidentally given her when I ran out to see who’d seen Amanda. I winced as I realized she must’ve read all of it. How Amanda got knocked up and decided to keep the baby, but now that Gretchen was here she’d realized she couldn’t handle actually being a mother. How I was the most responsible person she knew and I’d be the best choice to raise the little girl. How she was already certain I’d love Gretchen as my own, but she herself just couldn’t do it.

I hadn’t even been aware my sister was pregnant.

“I’ll handle it.” I went to grab my jacket, jostling the baby so she let out a wail.

“It sounds like your sister may have postpartum depression,” Jaz said, reaching for Gretchen. “You need me to hold her again?”

“No, that’s fine. I’m leaving.” I winced as the kid’s cries grew louder. Jaz may have been onto something about the depression. Then again, this was actually kind of typical for my sister.

“You’re taking her home?” Her eyes widened, and she moved as if to block the door. “Do you have a car seat or anything?”

“It’s fine. I’m going to do this th

e old-fashioned way.” I took the two pink strips of cloth and looped them around the back of my neck, forming a makeshift baby carrier. “Thank you for your help today… and your, uh, understanding. I’ll see you next week. Please come prepared.”

“I will.” Jaz buttoned her denim jacket, still looking at me as if I was a ticking time bomb. “And if you need a babysitter, you know who to call.”

Ha. Funny.

I was getting rid of this baby as soon as humanly possible.

* * *

I pressed the phone to my ear, my free hand balancing Gretchen on my lap. “What do you mean, you don’t have an address for Amanda?”

There was a long pause before my mother deigned to respond. “You know she stopped speaking to me,” she said. “How would I have her address?”

“You two stopped speaking to each other. That fight was as much your fault as hers—at least, from what little either of you has told me about it.”