by Chloe Walsh
17 Daryl
"You ready for the game tonight, D?" Molly asked on Friday afternoon after school. Her father was back in town for the weekend, which would normally fucking blow, but since Wren, Mom, and Sophie had all taken a trip to Tampa to visit Wren's sister, it had miraculously worked out.
Molly was sprawled out on the worn leather couch in my garage, with a ton of papers and textbooks opened out in front of her.
Always the bookworm, she completed her homework with a kind of ease that put most of our grade to shame.
Girl was crazy smart.
Her short blonde hair was pushed off her face with a small black hairband, and her face was void of all make-up. Dressed in faded jeans and a long-sleeved red and black plaid shirt, the girl was crazy beautiful, too.
"Always," I replied, not breaking my stride, as I continued a set of pull ups on the built-in workout machine on the opposite end of the garage.
"Uh-huh." Her pen danced across the page as she scribbled furiously into her notebook. "Hey, where do you think Rourke and Mercy rushed off to after school today?"
"Where'd you think, Dolly?"
"Ah." Her cheeks flamed as realization dawned on her. "Right – but wait, I thought you guys weren't supposed to do, uh, you know, the deed on a game night."
"It's a guideline, not the law, Molls. Coach doesn’t inspect our dicks to make sure we've been celibate – not that anyone could tell either way."
"Ew." She wrinkled her nose up. "Now that's a disturbing image."
"You're so cute," I chuckled with a shake of my head.
"Sure I am." A snort escaped her. "So, have you got your penguin suit all ready to go for later, homecoming king?"
"Already told you," I grunted, pulling my body up once more. "I ain't going without you."
"And I already told you that I'm not going," she shot back. "I'm going to the game with Mercy. I'll be in the bleachers screaming your name at the top of my lungs and cheering you on. That's more than enough."
"Fine, go to the game with Sissy, then go to the dance with me."
"No."
"Don’t say no."
"Well, I'm not saying yes."
"Then don’t say anything. Just come."
"As if, D," she grumbled. "I've watched the movie Carrie, and there's no way in hell that I'm going to be a willing target for Ashley asshat and Britt the bitch."
"Molls –"
"You know what they call me behind my back. What they repeatedly call me."
Yeah, I knew.
Freddy Kruger.
My blood boiled at the memory. "I've taken care of that. Those girls won't say shit to you again." They wouldn't fucking dare…
"God, I still can't believe you let that girl put those poisonous lips on you." She fake gagged. "I hope I haven't caught some second-hand venereal disease from kissing your contaminated lips."
"I kissed Ash on a dare when we were twelve." Pausing mid pull-up, I cocked a brow. "That hardly constitutes as contracting a venereal disease, Dolly."
She shuddered dramatically. "So gross."
Rolling my eyes, I continued with my set. "You're ridiculous."
"But since we're on the topic of venereal diseases –" setting her pen down, Molly pulled herself into a cross-legged position and looked up at me. "Do I need to get tested?"
I frowned. "For?"
She blushed. "Don't make me spell it out, D."
I smirked. "I thought you said that we weren't supposed to talk about that night? Not a word, remember? That was your rule, Molls."
"And it's a good rule." Her cheeks reddened. "I'm just…I wasn't thinking clearly at the time." Drumming her fingers against her jean-clad thigh, she blew out a breath. "And I'm worried now because I've never done anything like that before, and, well, you've done that a lot, with a lot of different girls, and we didn't use protection, which was so completely reckless and unlike me –"
"Molly," I cut her off and said, "Don't sweat it. I'm clean."
"You are?"
"As a whistle."
"You're absolutely certain of that?"
"Had my last test results in August, right before school started back up," I told her. "I've only been with you since. I've also never gone without a rubber before you, either."
She exhaled a huge sigh of relief and pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh, thank god!"
"What about you?"
"What about me?" she replied, looking uncertain. "I don't have anything, D. I never even kissed a boy before that night."
"Not what I meant." Releasing the bar, I dropped to my feet and snagged a towel. "Your period." Wiping the sweat from my brow, I grabbed a bottle of water, flicked the cap open, and guzzled the lot before continuing, "Did you take anything afterwards to make sure it, uh, arrived on time?"
"No." She gaped. "Was I supposed to?"
"Not if it came on time," I replied with a shrug. "You did get your period, right? I mean, you've had a period since we –"
"Of course I have," she huffed and then frowned. "No, wait – I don’t know."
"How do you not know?" I gaped at her.
"I'm not regular okay!" she hissed back at me, eyes as wide as saucers. "I can go months without a period – and it's not like this is something I've ever had to worry about before you, mister virginity snatcher!"
I grinned.
"Hey – don’t look so proud of yourself, doofus!"
"Calm down," I coaxed, trying my best not to laugh her adorable cluelessness. "It's been weeks since we fu –"
"Don’t say it!" she warned, holding a finger up at me. "I'm warning you."
"Okay…it happened at the end of August," I offered, rolling my eyes. "It's the second week of October now. That means what? It's been six, seven weeks?"
She nodded in agreement. "Yeah."
"Okay then." I let my eyes trail over her slim frame. "Have you had a period in the last seven weeks?"
Her eyes widened even more. "No."
I shrugged. "Then shit, Dolly, maybe you should've taken something."
"Oh my god!" Jerking to her feet, she stalked towards me and shoved me in the chest. "Then why didn't you tell me to?"
I held my hands up and laughed. "Because I was ghosting you…"
"So you admit it!" she gasped, poking me with her finger. "You were ghosting me."
"You told me not to bring it up," I quickly backpedaled. "I was respecting your stupid la, la, la rule."
She narrowed her eyes. "I swear, D, if you put anything other than a good time inside of me, I'm gonna be so pissed."
"Calm down and do your period math," I countered. "I bet you've had one. You're just panicking now. Come on, Molls, don’t you think we'd know if you were pregnant? Like we just said; it's been two months since we fucked –"
"Oh my god! La, la, la –" Plugging her ears with her fingers, she bounced from foot to foot. "I didn't hear you say that!"
"See!" Now I was the one to point at her. "There you go again with that la, la, la shit!"
"Wait a second! Period math?" She gave me an accusing look. "You're a boy."
"Last I checked."
"Then how do you know about period math?"
I blinked. "How do you not?"
"Oh my god," she grumbled. "I bet you've done more period math than half the girls in our grade put together. You're such a boy-whore."
"No…" I drawled slowly. "I just happen to have listened during sex ed."
"Yeah, for tips," she huffed. "You know what; I can't even look at your stupid face right now." Grabbing her bag off the floor, she began to stuff all of her books and pens inside. "I'm going home."
"To take a test?" I quipped, lips around the bottle to hide my smirk.
"Oh my god, shut up!" she screamed, hoisting her bag onto her back. "I've never failed a test in my life."
"Then let's hope that's one tradition that changes today," I laughed, watching her meltdown.
"Why aren't you freaking out with me?" she demanded, planting her
hands on her hips. "Why are you not acting like this is the worst thing that could ever happen to you?"
Because the worst thing that ever happened to me already happened.
It was the day I lost you.
"Maybe because I'm not an over-reacting drama queen?" I offered, still grinning.
"Ugh, whatever." Huffing out a breath, she offered me the universal peace signal with her fingers, before stomping out of the garage. "Later, baby daddy."
"I'll swing by after the game to pick you up for the dance," I called after her. "Be ready."
"Not going, homecoming king," she called back. "Enjoy your crowning, though. Meanwhile, I'll look forward to your child support check in the mail."
"Take real good care of my baby now, Molly-Sue, ya hear?"
"Uh-huh, sure thing, sperminator."
18 Molly
Mercy: SOS. I repeat. SOS.
Molly: Omigod, what's wrong???
Mercy: Well, if you hadn't bailed on the game, I could have told you in person…
Molly: Sorry. I just wasn't feeling it.
Mercy: Yeah? Well, why you weren't feeling it, the most embarrassing thing ever happened to me!
Molly: At the game? Is it over? How did they do? Did we win?
Mercy: Huh? Oh, yeah, we won. The guys kicked Jefferson's butts. Yay. Go Falcons, blah blah blah… Back to my slow death of humiliation please!
Molly: Okaaay….
Mercy: So, before the game, Rourke and I were doing the old horizontal dance and guess what the fuck happened!
Molly: Honestly, I'm kind of scared to think about anything that you and Rourke do behind closed doors…
Mercy: The condom BROKE!
Mercy: But that's not the worst part!
Mercy: It broke off inside of me.
Mercy: INSIDE
Mercy: OF
Mercy: MY
Mercy: VAGINA!!!!
Molly: Oh my freaking god! What did you do?
Mercy: That's where it gets really embarrassing.
Molly: I'm intrigued…
Mercy: ROURKE HAD TO PERFORM MINOR SURGERY ON ME!!!!
Mercy: FML….
Molly: WTF????
Mercy: He had to put his fingers inside of my vagina, fish around, and then PULL it out.
Molly: Ahhhhhh. Lol lol lol…
Mercy: Bitch, don't laugh at my misfortune. I'm dying over here.
Molly: I'm sorry, but lol lol!!! Where you at now?
Mercy: In the car with Rourke. On the way to homecoming.
Molly: Tell Rourke to wash his hands…
Mercy: Just did. He told me to tell you to get your dress on. Daryl's on his way to pick you up... *Maybe you guys can do the horizontal dance tonight, too – minus the condom fishing*
Molly: I'm not going, and, no offence, but I don’t wanna do any type of dance that involves my dancing partner fishing props out of my vagina afterwards.
Rourke: Like fuck you're not. My boy is on his way for you. Get your ass ready, Peterson. NOW!
Molly: You shouldn't text and drive, Rourke!!!
Rourke: We're here. I'm parked up. Don't change the subject and don't make me come get you. Trust me, I'll drag your ass kicking and screaming – and I won't wash my hands before I do it…
"So gross, Rourke." Shuddering, I tossed my phone down on the bed and did the universal heebie-jeebies jig. "Ugh."
Less than a minute later, my phone began to ring.
"Hello?" I answered cautiously.
"Well," Rourke's familiar voice came down the line. "Are you done being a princess or do I need to come and drag your ass over here?"
"Rourke." I sighed heavily down the line. "I'm not going."
"Because?"
"Because I'm not."
"Because," he repeated sharply.
"You know why. If I go to that dance with Daryl, I might as well hang a bullseye target on my forehead. You know what those girls are like. Well, I'm not about looking for trouble –
"Don't give me any of that woe is me shit, Peterson," he cut me off by saying. "I remember the girl with balls of steel that you used to be before that damn fire snuffed the feistiness of out of you. That girl wasn't afraid of Brittany fucking Beckett and her clone of brats. Hell, that girl wasn't afraid of any damn thing, much less a few scars, and I sure as shit ain't afraid to call that girl out when she's being a bitch-ass coward."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he shot back unapologetically. "Now, the way I see it, you've got two choices. Get your ass all prettied up and wait downstairs for Daryl to pick you up, or hide out in your room like a little baby and I'll come get you myself. But I warn you now, if you choose the latter, I ain't waiting around for you to put something nice on. I'll drag you there in your ugly ass pajamas. Your decision, Peterson. Choose wisely."
19 Daryl
I didn't want to be in my house any more than my stepfather wanted me here. It never felt like home anymore, not since he moved his ass in all of those years ago.
But I took comfort in the fact that Wren wasn't around to berate me when I stepped out of my room in a suit.
I hadn't worn this suit since junior prom and it was plain to see that I had packed on some serious muscle in the past year.
My shoulders, biceps, and chest were welded into the white dress shirt and dark vest. My bow-tie was crushing my windpipe, and my thighs were bulging against the fabric of my black slacks.
Not bothering to entertain the notion of attempting to wedging my arms into the sleeves of the matching jacket, I tossed it over my shoulder and headed outside to my truck, with only one thought in mind.
Molly.
Climbing into my truck, I tossed my jacket next to the fresh flower corsage on the passenger seat before pulling out my cell and dialing Molly's number.
"Well, if it isn't Ocean Bay's answer to Tom Brady," she teased when she answered. "Congrats on the win tonight, QB1. I bet you had those cheerleaders working overtime to cheer their King on."
I felt my smile stretch at the sound of her voice. "How's my baby mama?"
Her throaty laugh filled my ears. "Much more stable than the last time we spoke."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, I took your advice and did a test."
"No period math?"
"Nah, my periods are super irregular so that kind of thing doesn’t work for me."
"And?"
"It's all good. One pink line all by its lonesome. A big, fat negative. Yay!"
"So, I'll put a hold on that child support check?" I teased.
"You're such a douche." She laughed again. "But in all seriousness, why weren't you panicking as much as I was?"
"Full disclosure?"
"Always."
"Because it doesn’t scare me," I offered honestly. "Not as much as it scares you, that is."
"How in God's name does the thought of having a baby with me not scare you?"
"For that exact reason," I replied. "Because I would be having a baby with you. I don’t wanna have a kid in high school, Molls, at least not any more than any other guy, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it had happened because, well, you're my best friend, and all jokes aside, we would have handled it."
"You're really strange," she mused down the line.
"Yeah, duly noted. Now, listen," Pausing to crank the engine, I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder and reversed out of my driveway. "I'm on the way to your house now. Please tell me that your stabilized mood includes a change of heart about the dance?"
"Actually, you'll be surprised to know that it has."
My brows shot up. "For real?"
"Yeah," came her breathy reply. "I'm right here waiting if you still want to go with me."
Jesus…
"There ain't anyone else I wanna go with," I roughly cleared my throat and stepped on the gas. "I'll see you soon."
20 Molly
Rourke Owens was an incurable asshole.
He was also a straight-talki
ng, no-nonsense SOB who had made regrettably valid points in the midst of chewing me out.
I wasn't sure if I was pissed off with Rourke or pumped up.
It had been one hell of a pep talk.
Before the fire, I had never once let Britt or Ash chase me off. I never tolerated their crap when we were kids, so why was I doing it now?
God, I hated when Rourke was right…
Whatever the reasons, I found myself standing the foyer, in a full-length, long-sleeved white dress, with my father staring me like I had lost my ever-loving mind.
"You're going to homecoming," Dad said, repeating the words I'd just spoken.
"Yeah."
"Homecoming dance?"
"Yes, Dad."
"But you don't go to things like that…"
"Well, there's a first time for everything."
"Are you sure you want to do this –"
"Oh my god, Dad!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he hurried to soothe. "Are you going to the dance alone?"
"No, not alone." I replied, wetting my lips. "I have a date– a Daryl. I have a Daryl date. I mean I'm going with Daryl."
"Daryl King is taking you to the dance?" my father deadpanned.
I shrugged. "That's the plan."
"I see." I knew that tone. It was the one my father used when he was upset. "What about our talk?"
"What about it?"
"Didn't we talk about prevention being better than a cure?"
It's too late for that, Dad, I was infected years ago…
"We're going as friends, Dad," I decided to offer up. "That's all."
There was no relief in his eyes when I said that.
All I could see in his eyes, on his face, was resignation and concern.
"Don't look at me like that," I begged, feeling all jittery and nervous. "I'm stressed enough as it stands." Pulling on the lace sleeves of my dress, I blew out a shaky breath and tried to get a grip. "Can you see them?"
"Them?"
"My burns, Dad," I choked out, twirling around self-consciously. "Are they visible through the lace?"
"Molly-Sue, you look so beautiful –"
"The scars, Dad," I bit out, teeth chattering from anxiety now. "Can you see them?"