“She was eighteen and I was a student teacher!”
Mom nods her head. “And I wasn’t a student. I had already graduated and was spending a gap year volunteering at the school before going to college. So I wasn’t really a student. We were more like colleagues.” She blushes deeply, which tells me part of her story is a lie.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to my room.”
I should just turn right around and head over to Hunter’s. They could not stop me. But all I want to do is put on my pajama pants and hug my stuffed purple unicorn and cry and eat ice cream.
Worst. Day. Ever, I text to Hunter.
She texts back right away: ???
M&D read my diary. Full of my pining re Weston. They are freaking the F out.
I’m texting her the entire saga when there’s a knock on my door—two seconds before Mom pops in.
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Neither do I. Put the ice cream down. Put your pants back on and come with me.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
“Mom, it’s a little late to drive me to reform school, OK?”
“Please. Just come with me.”
I stare at her and I can see she’s not mad. Well, how could this day possibly get worse?
“OK, just let me reply to Hunter.”
To Hunter, I text: Gotta go. Mom’s taking me to Azkaban. Nice knowing you. Send chocolate.
* * *
“Where are we going?”
“To the doctor.”
It’s weird being in a car with my mom. Since Hunter and I got our licenses, I barely go anywhere with anyone but my best friend.
“I’m not pregnant.”
“I know,” Mom says, focusing on a left-hand turn by the hospital.
“Then why are we going to the doctor?”
“To do what I should have done as soon as you became interested in boys—putting you on the pill.”
She pulls into the medical complex and begins searching for a parking spot.
“Mom, I haven’t even had my period in three months, since I’ve been working out so hard.”
“Oh, look, rock star parking, here we go. I know, honey. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get pregnant.”
She parks the car and turns off the engine, and I’m staring at her like she’s a witch.
“How do you know I haven’t had my period?”