Holy fucking shit—there might be a little alien inside me sucking the life out of me.
Just great.
“Deep breaths, Thea. You don’t know anything yet.”
I grip the wheel tightly as I drive, so tight in fact that my knuckles turn white.
At the intersection out of the neighborhood, traffic seems endless.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” I shout futilely at the traffic, waving my hand wildly. I can see my destination in the distance. So close, yet so far away.
“Don’t pass out,” I tell myself. “Do not pass out.”
I’m finally able to pull out and drive across the street to the drug store.
I park in the nearest spot to the entrance and then hurry inside.
My heart is beating faster than it ever has before. My hands feel clammy with sweat, and I’m sure if I felt my forehead it would be too.
I head past the condoms—little late for those—and to the pregnancy tests.
“Why are there so many?” I mutter to myself out loud.
There are strips, and sticks, and ones with curved handles.
There are some with smiley faces and sad faces, plus signs and minuses signs, and some that flat out say PREGNANT and NOT PREGNANT.
I feel like screaming.
“Do you need some help?” I look over and find a woman, probably in her mid-thirties, looking at me with pity in her eyes. She can probably tell I’m close to having a nervous breakdown.
I nod, my lower lip quivering. “This is … It’s a little overwhelming.”
She smiles. “I’ve been there. It’ll be fine, sweetie. I’d recommend this one, they’re pretty accurate.” She pulls out one of the ones that digitally says PREGNANT and NOT PREGNANT. “They’re a little more expensive, but they’re worth it.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, taking the box and grabbing two more just to be on the safe side.
I take a steadying breath and head to the checkout.
“Is that all?” the checkout girl asks, and maybe I’m paranoid but I swear she’s sneering and looking at me like I’m dirty for buying pregnancy tests. I know I’m young but I feel like waving my left hand in front of her face and shouting, “I’m married!” but I also know that shouldn’t matter anyway.
“Yeah, that’s all.” I get my total and pay.
She hands me my change and I grab my bag, heading out the door.
The drive home can’t be more than five minutes, but it feels like five hours.
Jace and Nova are gone when I get there, and Xander hasn’t gotten back.
I know he can’t be much longer, though, which means I don’t have long to pee on one of these sticks.
I close the garage door behind me and run into the house and up the stairs.
I drop the bag on the counter in the bathroom and fumble to get out one of the boxes.
According to the directions, it’s best to wait and pee first thing in the morning—but I don’t have time for that, so I’m doing it now. Besides, I’ve never been very good at following directions.
I rip open one of the boxes and get down to business.