by Mere Joyce
“I don’t even know what it’s called.” Thomas smirks, studying his wrists. “But it’s by J something MacDonald. I remember that much.”
“J.E.H. MacDonald.” I smile, nudging him.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
Thomas looks at me, his eyebrows raised. I shrug my shoulders and turn back to the windows.
“Just recognized the style,” I murmur.
I squeeze my hands into fists and press them against my thighs as I watch the rain.
Hailey
THE DAMN BUZZING WAKES me. Right in the middle of the night and inches from my ear like some kind of incessant bee.
“What the hell?”
I force my eyes open and wipe a disgusting slick of saliva from my chin. Charming. I hate waking up. Being awake is fine, but waking up is the worst. Only sleeping for a couple of hours doesn’t help, nor does the fact I ate my weight in turkey and pie before I hit the sack in the first place.
The buzzing sounds again, the second warning of an incoming message no one seems to catch but me. The phone’s light is easy to spot where it rests in Nolan’s sleeping hand. I brush hair out of my eyes and maneuver the phone out from under my cousin’s palm. I’m an expert at this task. With two younger siblings, I know how to recover stolen treasures after miniature thieves have passed out cold.
The screen is still lit when I move it close to my face.
B: Can’t sleep. Mind’s reeling. Text me as soon as you’re awake, okay?
The message doesn’t concern me, but the phone woke me up, and that pisses me off. I hate when people text in the middle of the night. I always make a point to turn my phone off so I’m not bothered by annoying people who are usually not in their right frame of mind. My stomach sloshes and squeals, discomfort I wouldn’t feel if I was still asleep. So, screw the ethics of invading someone’s phone privacy.
I slide the touch screen to open the message, only to be blocked by a passcode. I try Nolan’s birthday, but the phone buzzes me away, resetting the screen for a second attempt. The number could be random, or some digits I don’t know the significance of. Wouldn’t be too difficult to stump me. Still, I do my best. I think of a number easy to remember, difficult for friends or strangers to guess. I try Thomas’s birthday next. When the phone unlocks, I’m almost giddy with pride.
I expect to scroll through the conversation with B before going through Nolan’s other contacts and seeing if there’s anything worth snooping through. But the open stream of messages is enough to stop me in my tracks. Before the lament of not being able to sleep, there was an exchange of needing to talk tomorrow, of needing to be together to figure it all out. An “I love you” here, a “Love you, too” there, all typical teenaged romance stuff.
But when I slide back a little further … the tiniest smidge further … I figure out why B can’t seem to sleep.
“Pregnant?”
I whisper the word out loud. I can’t help it. This isn’t the kind of message I was expecting. Not even close.
But my big mouth ruins the perfect moment of solitary awe. I hear the rustle beside me before I comprehend who’s making the noise. When Nolan speaks, his voice is groggy with sleep. He sounds adorable. And young. Too young to be a father.
“Hailey?” He asks the question like he’s not convinced he isn’t dreaming. But when my eyes shift over to his, he recovers his alertness in record time. “What are you doing with my phone?” he asks in a much less adorable — and much more vicious — whisper.
He makes an instant grab for the phone, and I only just manage to pull back my arm.
“Pregnant?” I whisper in response, not sure what other comment to make. The word is too big. Saying it once isn’t sufficient to get it off my tongue.
Nolan’s eyes shift from being narrowed in anger to shooting wide with panic. He scrambles up to a sitting position, and I have to throw myself backwards to avoid his grabbing hands. I roll over the side of the pullout, banging my knee against the metal frame on my way to the ground. I stifle a curse and stagger up, my knee throbbing in pain for the second time in less than twelve hours.
“Give me my phone!” Nolan whisper-screams as I hobble over to the stairs. I’m not about to relinquish this goldmine of information, but I can’t keep bouncing around the basement without waking everyone up.
Nolan trails behind me like a little kid chasing the big sister who’s stolen his favorite action figure. Little kid. Nolan’s only a little kid. He shouldn’t even be thinking about sex.
My own accusation is idiotic. I was no stranger to sex at his age. But I never did the deed without proper precautions. I can’t believe he’d be so stupid. I want to find Thomas and give him a good thump on the head. He should’ve taught his brother better.
Although, I guess it’s not Thomas’s responsibility. It should have been up to their father. But the Hacher men don’t seem able to keep their shit together. The birds and the bees probably slipped my uncle’s mind.
Nolan grabs my shirt as we reach the main floor. I twist away from him and dive for the living room, stepping backwards to look at his black expression as he approaches me again.
“I can’t believe this, Nolan!” I say in a louder voice, phone raised above my head. “I can’t believe you … you’re …”
“Hailey, this is none of your business!” Nolan snaps. “Give me back my phone!”
“Woah, what’s going on?”
The voice makes me jump. I face the living room again, and through the stormy darkness see Thomas, Kayla, and Allison. Allison sits up from where she’s been lying across the couch, while Thomas and Kayla stand.
“Thomas,” I say, addressing his question, “do you know what kind of trouble your baby brother has gotten himself into?”
I waggle the phone, while Nolan begins swearing up a storm to rival the one outside.
“Hailey, shut up, will you?” he says, rushing for me.
Thomas gets between us and holds Nolan back, looking at us both like we’ve gone insane.
“Seriously,” he says, his voice indeed more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Nolan mutters. “Hailey took my phone.”
“Wow.” Thomas fixes me with an expression I can’t make out in the darkness. “That’s rule number one with Nolan, didn’t you know? You never take his phone. Never. I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
“I didn’t mean to take his phone,” I say, but when Nolan growls at me, I amend my response. “A stupid text woke me up. I wanted to see what was so important it couldn’t wait until morning.”
“A text?”
Nolan stops pushing against his brother. His whole body softens, and with a helpful flash of lightning I see the concern falling over his features. My stomach drops. Kid or no, he’s not brushing this off like it’s no big deal. Of course he’s not. I should never have assumed otherwise. He’s worried. He should be.
“That’s it?” Thomas asks, dropping his arms as Nolan stops struggling. “You took his phone to read a text, and now you won’t give it back? I didn’t realize the regression had hit us so hard. I thought you were seventeen, Hailey, not seven.”
I fix Thomas with a sarcastic, star-bright smile as I hand him the phone.
“See for yourself,” I say.
Thomas takes the phone and stares at the now black screen like he’s not quite sure what it is.
“Thomas,” Nolan says.
With only a second of hesitation, Thomas hands the phone back to his brother without taking a peek. The moment is touching. Nolan is relieved, and proud of his brother for not giving in to temptation. He thinks his secret is safe. Unfortunately for him, I’ve always been a lousy secret-keeper.
“He’s knocked someone up,” I say, the words so flat they don’t even sound like mine.
“He what?” Kayla as
ks.
Thomas turns back to me, his brow furrowed.
“You have to be mistaken,” he says with confusion and amusement.
I shake my head and point to the phone now in Nolan’s hand, the boy’s fingers texting with a pace furious enough to match his expression.
“I’m not,” I say. “Someone named B. Got her pregnant. Says so right in the message, if you’d bothered to check.”
“No,” Kayla says in pure shock.
“Bea’s pregnant?” Thomas asks in a far more subdued voice. He looks back at his brother, while his brother raises his head from the screen.
“Thomas,” he says, his voice gentle.
“Bea’s pregnant?” his brother repeats.
“You can’t be a father,” Kayla says.
She seems more stunned than any of us, Thomas included.
“I’m not going to be,” Nolan seethes, his eyes still trained on Thomas.
“You’re not going to ignore her,” I say, confused by his quick change from concerned boyfriend to careless bystander. But then it occurs to me there are other options aside from simple abandonment. “You need to talk about your options first, Nolan. You can’t make a rash decision here. This isn’t something you can just throw away.”
“I’m not throwing anything away!” Nolan replies, his voice rising.
“Nolan,” Thomas says, and I already know what the rest of his sentence will be. “Bea’s pregnant?”
“Yes,” Nolan answers. He looks crestfallen. Not scared, only … upset. “She is. She found out tonight.”
“I think I need to sit down,” Thomas says.
Nolan grabs his arm as Thomas begins to sway. Kayla and I rush over, while Allison stands and tells us to bring him to the couch. He sits hard and bends over so his head is touching his knees.
“Geez, you’d think he was the one having the baby,” Allison mumbles.
Nolan heaves a great sigh, throwing his hands in the air like he can’t take the sight of us anymore.
“That’s because he is,” he says. “And you’ve gone and told him in the least sensitive way fucking possible.” These words are directed at me, and I stare at him in amazement, partially because of what he’s said and partially because of the fierce way he’s said it.
“Wait, I thought you were the one ….” Kayla looks at Nolan and then at me.
“No, I didn’t get anyone pregnant,” Nolan finishes for her.
“But the phone,” I say, shaking my head. “It said pregnant. B. Thomas said B was pregnant, and you agreed.”
“Bea is pregnant,” Nolan says through clenched teeth.
“Yes, that’s the point. Nolan, I read those messages. That’s not the way you talk to a friend. Are you … you’re not both seeing the same girl, are you?”
The idea makes me squeamish, my earlier inclination to vomit returning.
“What? That’s gross … no.” Nolan rolls his eyes and gives me a hard stare. “Bea is pregnant. B-E-A, as in Beatrice. B, the letter B, is short for Brandon. Beatrice’s brother.”
“But Hailey said you two were …,” Kayla begins.
“Her brother and my boyfriend,” Nolan sighs, exasperated.
Kayla’s mouth drops open.
“So, you didn’t get a girl pregnant … because you have a boyfriend?” she says, the words slow.
“Yes,” Nolan replies.
He looks a thousand leagues beyond pissed. I can’t blame him. I spilled two of his secrets in the space of about five minutes, which might be a new record for me.
But his look of pure hatred doesn’t reach its uppermost limit until a few seconds later, when Kayla bursts out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Nolan snaps.
Kayla shakes her head, covering her mouth like she’s trying to stop the giggles from pouring forth.
“Nothing,” she breathes, lowering her eyes from his. “It’s not … it’s not funny at all!”
She breaks into another fit, while Allison turns away from us, a smirk on her lips.
Thomas is looking at us all like we’re nuts. I try to make level eye contact with Nolan, to show him I’m serious about the issue at hand. But when I see the fire there, I can’t help cracking into a grin as well. I snort, actually snort, and then push myself into Kayla’s side, half nudging her and half burying my face in so Nolan can’t see me.
The situation is not funny — in fact it’s quite serious, with a little sweetness thrown into the mix. Nolan and his boyfriend must have something meaningful, the way they’ve been exchanging worried texts about the fate of Brandon’s sister. And I’m curious to know how Thomas fits into all of this. He’s petrified, that’s easy enough to see. But he doesn’t seem surprised to learn about Nolan’s correspondence. So, maybe Nolan’s boyfriend isn’t a secret, after all. At least not to Thomas.
I should be consoling him. Or I should at least be continuing my tirade of bitchiness and pounding him with questions. But all of this is ludicrous, like a melodrama playing out before our eyes, terrible and fucking fantastic.
Nolan’s not impressed. He kneels down before his brother.
“It can’t be me, though, right?” Thomas asks, looking for answers in his baby brother’s eyes. Kayla, Allison, and I work to get ourselves under control. Our manic laughter is not needed right now. “It has to be her boyfriend, doesn’t it?”
Nolan shrugs.
“It might be,” he says with an unconvincing smile. “She says she doesn’t know. She thinks timing-wise, it could have been right before she met him. While you two were still spending time together.”
“But we didn’t … I mean we weren’t … we were careful,” Thomas splutters.
I haven’t seen him look this unsure of himself all day. I doubt he often looks this way — terrified doesn’t suit him.
“She’s not sure about that, either,” Nolan says, looking just as unsure and maybe even more uncomfortable. “She, uh, she missed a couple of pills or something.”
“Idiot,” Allison murmurs.
Thomas gives her a dark look while he runs a hand through his un-gelled strip of hair.
“Bea’s not an idiot,” he says, his words solid and thick.
“You miss pills, you use alternative methods of backup,” Allison retorts. “Everyone knows that.”
“I don’t,” I remark.
I don’t use the pill, so maybe if I did, I’d know more about it. But I didn’t learn about anything related to sex until I discovered it first-hand. If my suspicions are correct, my mother experienced some stuff too early. Her response was to never tell me a thing.
“Bea’s not an idiot,” Thomas says again, but he’s already focused back on Nolan. He doesn’t care what we think, and I’m glad.
“No,” Nolan agrees, “but she is pregnant. And there is a chance it could be yours.”
“Is she even going to keep it?” I ask, unable to suppress the question.
Thomas looks at me, and then back at his brother. Nolan shrugs, like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.
“She just found out, like, a few hours ago … I don’t think she’s thought that far ahead.”
He puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. When they look at each other, both of them serious, they’re almost like twins.
“Is she planning on telling me?” Thomas asks.
The second of sameness passes, as Nolan’s expression changes to one of being the bearer of awkward news.
“It’s still early days,” he says with a crack in his voice. “And I’m sure she knows you’ll find out. She wouldn’t have told Brandon if she didn’t want … but she’s got Rodge now, and I don’t know …”
Sometimes a trail into silence says more than any spoken words. Rodge must be Bea’s new boyfriend. And Bea must think she’s got a future with this guy. From Nolan�
�s look, and the dark glint in Thomas’s eyes, I’m guessing they both understand Bea’s top priority is to keep things going with the guy she hopes is the father — not to break it apart by running to the friend she hopes is not.
“Well, then, that’s it,” Thomas says. A hint of remorse flits between the words, but then he blinks and sits up straight. “There’s nothing more to be said about it.”
“Thomas, that’s not …”
Nolan tries to bring him back into the discussion, but his effort is useless. Thomas is reclining against the cushions now, his eyes staring up at the windows in the high ceiling as his fingers stray up to fiddle with his ear.
“Some storm out there, eh?” he says, his arms crossed over his chest.
I look around, trying to decide which of us girls is going to answer him. But the voice to respond is deeper, softer.
“It always seems wild through all these windows,” Forrester replies.
I turn, along with everyone else, to look at the top of the staircase leading down into the basement. Forrester and Eli are standing on the main floor before the stairwell. I’m not sure how long they’ve been there or how much they’ve heard.
“I remember being scared witless one year,” Forrester continues. “Thought for sure a tree was going to crash through the roof.”
“I can imagine.” Thomas smiles.
The last two members of our group walk into the living room. Kayla offers Nolan a sympathetic glance before he slumps down onto the floor and begins texting again. Then Allison speaks up, talking about storms, about the worst one she remembers. The topic turns into a game, each of us recalling the harshest of stormy days and nights, times when the sky turned green or hail rained down like gigantic wooden blocks falling over our homes.
Nolan doesn’t join us, but he does put his phone away after a few minutes. He watches his brother, and I watch him, none of us speaking about the life-altering news we just discovered.
We’re so ill-equipped to handle this shit. Each and every one of us. All we know how to do is sweep the pain away and pretend we’re fine. But sooner or later it’s going to come back.