“What’s wrong?” Piper asks when I meet her at our lockers before first period.
It’s been three weeks since the bonfire, since Dalton put his fist in Zeke’s face and I’ve only seen my nemesis a handful of times alone. Of course I see him in class, which is why my stomach is turning over and over right now. The dread of walking into class once again to see him living the best life with his football guys and his mean girlfriend is literally making me sick to my stomach.
“I just don’t feel well this morning,” I complain.
Like a mother hen, Piper presses the back of her hand to my forehead.
“No fever,” she muses as her eyes dart between mine. “I don’t think there’s anything going around, but what do I know?”
I get her meaning perfectly. She’s so wrapped up in Dalton that unless she or he were sick themselves, she’s oblivious to everything else that’s going on around them.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Dalton doesn’t waste a second walking up to us before he’s wrapping his arms around my best friend and pressing his lips to hers. Her cheeks flush in embarrassment at the PDA, but she doesn’t push him away any longer. When the school year started, she wanted to keep their affections private, but Dalton wasn’t having any of that. Clearly, he wants everyone to know that Piper one hundred percent owns him, and vice versa.
“Hey, Frankie,” he says with a smile once he manages to pull his lips away from Piper’s.
“Hey,” I mutter.
“Are you okay? You don’t look like you feel well.”
I sigh, turning back to my locker. “I’m fine.”
I must look like a hot mess if even Dalton notices.
“Are you coming to class?” Piper asks when I close my locker and turn away from them.
“I’m going to go splash some water on my face. I’ll meet you in class.”
“Want me to come with you?”
She would if I asked, but I know they don’t get to spend much time together, so I forfeit the company and walk away.
My stomach only worsens the closer I get to the restroom. Ignoring Drea, one of the Westover Prep cheerleaders who’s standing at the sink with red, puffy eyes, I barely make it to the toilet before breakfast makes a reintroduction. I hate getting sick like this, especially at school. It’s long minutes before I feel as if it’s safe enough to step away and rinse my mouth.
Looking at my sallowed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, it hits me like a brick. It’s as if someone just punched me in the gut the way Dalton did Zeke in the foyer right after the bonfire.
The tiredness.
The upset stomach.
I pull my cell phone from my backpack and do a quick search.
My eyes widen as I read the list of symptoms.
Exhaustion. Check.
Tender breasts. Check.
Missed period. I open my period tracking app and holy crap. With all the stress I’ve been under, I knew I was a little late, but I’ve never been weeks late before.
Tears fill my eyes when I look back up at myself in the mirror. I’ve definitely caught something, and the symptoms aren’t going to go away for another eight months.
Even as I walk out of the restroom and head to the front office to check myself out, I know what I’m going to discover, but I leave school and head to the store and grab a couple of tests, anyway.
I ignore the texts from Piper wondering where I went and head home. My hands shake so much it’s nearly impossible to get my key in the front door, but I’m grateful that my parents are gone. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to tell them about this.
The urge to postpone the inevitable hits me hard when I walk inside, so instead of heading straight upstairs to the bathroom, I drop the pharmacy bag on the kitchen counter and grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge, leaning against the counter and taking small, slow sips.
Pregnant before I even turn eighteen. What a mess.
Unable to take my eyes from the plastic bag and the three tests hidden inside, I scoop it off the counter and head to my room where I spend another five minutes avoiding taking them.
If only I could wish it away. Do I want to wish it away?
Of course I do. Not only is having a baby so young a recipe for disaster, I have to consider the father, and the last thing I want is to be tied somehow to Zeke for the rest of my life.
With one last sigh, I grab the bag and pee on all three sticks, but like a coward, I leave them on the vanity and walk out of the room. I can’t bear to face the truth right now.
Pacing doesn’t help at all, so when Piper sends another text message, I check the time, realizing that she’s in between classes. I decide to call her, needing her voice and guidance.