My hands are shaking, as I stroke my lower abdomen, flat. My flat stomach now feels so awkward to me, as I consider what’s in store for my future. I’m lying on my back, on the white carpet of my bright room. I wonder to myself, what will my mother think? What will she think of me when I tell her what happened the weekend her and my father left for their high school reunion, when Damen came over and I was supposed to watching over Denny and his friends as they played their silly video games. It seems silly to me that she doesn’t know what’s actually been happening in my life since I was twelve. I’m looking at the blue ceiling. My mind’s in a different world. I imagine my belly swelling three times its size. It reminds me of when Carry and I used to force balloons under out shirts and walk around like we were actually…. I can’t even pronounce the word in my mind. I used to look at girls like me with disgust. I had promise myself that I would never end up like them, that I wouldn’t throw my life in the garbage for one guy. I’m the good girl. I never got in trouble. It’s not like I never did anything wrong. I just never had to suffer the consequences before.

My teeth are clapping together even though it’s mid august and I’m sweating. My eyes start to sting and I can feel the salt water building up behind my eyelids. I know that my freckled face must be clammy and blotchy by now. I prepare for my sobs, my hideous cries. My body is shaking. It’s long past midnight and I already know that I won’t be able to fight through the rest of the night alone. So I do what I always do when I need that one person to sit by my side and fight through every tear with me. I call Carry.

It only takes her ten minutes to put together an overnight bag, write her mother a note explaining where she is, and to cut through the three summer lawns that separate our houses to get to mine, which she climbs onto the garage roof and pulls herself into my open window, inviting her inside, to find me sitting in the center of my room on the floor with tear streaked eyes.

“Anne” she sighs. Carry crosses the room to sit next to me and pull me in to a hug. “What happened?”

I don’t know what to tell her. We fought through every messed up detail of our lives together, usually brought on by somebody else. When Carry’s dad left, we put him behind us, cursing him as he walked out the door. Now who are we going to get angry with? There’s no one to blame but myself now.


I look up to see her lost in thought. “Please tell me you’re not into some crazy drugs. Is it Marijuana? Please don’t tell me its heroin. That stuff will mess you up man! Did you hear about Zach Boloone? He got hooked, and his parents just kicked him out! Put him on the streets! Can you believe tha-“

“I’m pregnant Carry,” I’m pulling on the hem of my pajama pants as I mumble the words so quietly, but they split through Carry’s ramble, causing a few seconds of aching silence.

“What?” Her expression confused. “You’re kidding.”

“No. It’s for real alright, look in the bathroom”

Carry stands up and quickly tip-toes her way to the bathroom, to find little white sticks all across the blue tiled floor, each little white stick marked with a tiny pink plus sign.

“Really?” she asks.
I look over. Eyes worried.


“really, really.”