BooksBarbecue
Back The Surrogate
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Part Two
  39. Thirty-Four
  40. Thirty-Five
  41. Thirty-Six
  42. Thirty-Seven
  43. Thirty-Eight
  44. Thirty-Nine
  45. Forty
  46. Forty-One
  47. Forty-Two
  48. Forty-Three
  49. Forty-Four
  50. Forty-Five
  51. Forty-Six
  52. Forty-Seven
  53. Forty-Eight
  54. Forty-Nine
  55. Fifty
  56. Fifty-One
  57. Part Three
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Fifty-Four
  61. Fifty-Five
  62. Fifty-Six
  63. Acknowledgments
  64. About the Author
  65. About the Publisher

Cally was good at kissing. We had a good time, but I respected her wishes. It was easy to talk to Cally. She must have trusted me, because one day she showed me her Goal Cards. Inside her locker, at the back, she taped up index cards with messages to herself that she’d written with colorful pens and glitter and crap like that. I said I thought it was cool that she gave herself goals. But one of them made me laugh. It said, “GARB.”

“What’s GARB?” I’d asked, but she was embarrassed. “Come on, what is it?”

She was blushing and getting her books out. “It stands for . . .” She shook her head.

“Just say it.” I poked her underarms.

“This was before . . . you and I . . . it was what I wanted, you know . . .”

“Okay.” I leaned in so our bodies were touching and my face was close to hers.

“Get A Real Boyfriend,” she said in a quiet voice, looking up at me with those big brown eyes.

I leaned closer. “So am I your boyfriend now?”

“I don’t know,” she said, like a dare. “Are you?”

The bell rang. I winked. Then turned and walked away.

She chased me, grabbed my arm. I turned around and she kissed me in the middle of the hallway.

“Oooooh,” said someone, and I flipped them off.

That was it. Next time I saw her locker, she’d taken down the GARB card. Never saw it again.

We held hands in the hall. We hung out between classes. After school, we’d sit in the bleachers in the empty gym. She helped me with homework. We made out. We talked. She asked me questions. We had sex in my truck, in her bedroom, in my bedroom, anywhere we got a chance.

During the rest of high school, we broke up a couple of times. She accused me of cheating. I hadn’t. Then later, I didn’t want to go to prom. So she went with someone else. That chapped my ass. Then she graduated in June, and I finished up over the summer. We got together again. That fall she went to Inver Grove Community College. She wasn’t around much. I thought she was cheating, found a college guy. She swore she hadn’t.

She thought I was jealous of her. Seriously? I didn’t give a crap about education. Waste of cash. She wanted to finish. Wanted a “career.” I felt bad when her dad died, and she needed funds. But being a surrogate? Having a baby for money? That was creepy as hell. I didn’t trust the lawyer and his wife who wanted her to do this. His sperm? No, thanks.