“Yeah, I know. It’s hard to look at.” Jericho glanced away.
“I want him back, jumping on the bed like Todd and Rory, acting a fool and making me laugh,” she said.
“I can’t believe all the little molecules that made up Josh have simply disappeared, like…” He paused, searching for an analogy. “Like kids’ soap bubbles when they pop. Just gone. I never did like science,” he added, suddenly kicking his pillow with fury. They both watched it sail through the air and land on a pile of dirty clothes.
Then November said quietly, “Not all of Josh’s atoms are gone, Jericho.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe a little piece of Josh will stick around for a while.”
“You talkin’ crazy,” Jericho said.
She leaned forward. “I got something to tell you.”
“About chemistry class?”
“More about biology.”
“I’m not followin’. We don’t even take biology this year.”
November took a deep breath. “I’m going to have a baby, Jericho. Josh’s baby.”
Jericho inhaled sharply, as if he’d been punched in the gut, then fell back on the bed. “Are you sure?”
“How come every movie I see, that’s always the first question dudes ask? Like I’d come over here and tell you this unless I was absolutely, positively sure.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…that’s the last thing I’d expect you to say.” He paused, his head swimming. “I would have been less surprised if you had said you were running away to join the circus!”
“I still might have to do that,” she said ruefully, “if my mother doesn’t stop crying herself to sleep at night.”
“I guess she didn’t take it so good, huh?”
“Well, I was my mom’s perfect princess, and I screwed that up big-time.”
“Does Aunt Marlene know?”
“No! Only my mom, the doctor, and a couple of girls from school.”
“News like that’s gonna travel fast. You told Dana and Arielle?”
“Dana, yes. Arielle, no way. I hate the way she dumped you,” November said with feeling.
“Thanks for lookin’ out,” said Jericho, avoiding her eyes. Needing to move, he got up and began to toss the cereal boxes and food wrappers into the trash can. November’s pregnant? he thought, trying to get his head around the idea. Then his heart lurched. Josh will never know!
“I told a girl I didn’t know very well,” November continued. “I needed to talk and she had a good ear. Her name is Olivia. She won’t tell anyone.”
“Olivia from band?”
“Yeah.”
“I like her. She’s solid.”
“What do you mean by that?” November asked, bristling a little.
“Nothing. Look, as big as I am, I have no right to talk about anybody but myself. Olivia is cool with me.” He looked at November closely. “So what are you gonna do?”
“Swell up. Get huge. Miss the prom. Buy flip-flops. I don’t really know.”
“I wonder what the kid will look like,” Jericho mused as he sat back down on the bed. “Josh had that odd straw-colored hair.”
“And crooked teeth,” November added.
“Don’t forget his skinny legs and his stick-out ears!”
“And his bushy eyebrows!” November laughed a little.
“Sounds like a really ugly baby, November!” Jericho looked at her closely to make sure he hadn’t hurt her feelings, but she was gazing at Josh’s picture, her hand on her stomach.
“It’ll also have Josh’s smile—that stupid grin of his was so bright you needed shades,” she said softly. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “Yeah, it will be a beautiful baby. But it’s stuck with a stupid mother,” she added.
“How you figure?”
“I don’t know anything about kids. I don’t even like babies that much. They poop all the time and they cry all night and how am I gonna go to school like everybody else if I have a baby in my backpack?” Tears of frustration ran down her face.
Jericho got up and walked over to where she sat. For the first time in months, he felt he knew exactly what he needed to do. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help you, November. I’m the uncle—sort of. I’ll be like the stand-in daddy. Whatever you need me to do, I’m here for you.”
She wiped her eyes on a napkin from Pizza Hut. “That’s sweet of you, Jericho. But there’s no need for you to mess up your senior year because of me.”
“No, for real. I want to do this. Honest. I want to help.”
November stood up suddenly and ran out of Jericho’s room to the bathroom across the hall. She didn’t have time to close the door, and her vomiting echoed in the hallway. Jericho headed for the door in alarm.
When she walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she looked pale and unsteady. “Are you sure you want to help?” she asked, a wan grin on her face.
“I’m with you all the way,” he answered, and wondered what that really meant.
CHAPTER 14
NOVEMBER
MONDAY, MAY 10
NOVEMBER AND DANA SAT TOGETHER IN the back of the cafeteria, each sipping a box of the fruit juice that the school had installed in the vending machines to replace the sodas the kids preferred.
Dana rummaged through her large leather Louis Vuitton knockoff bag she’d bought on eBay and pulled out her lip gloss. November glanced at her friend’s lavender leather vest with matching boots. She felt like a cow in her University of Kentucky sweatshirt and faded jeans.
“You talk to Arielle lately?” Dana asked.
November shook her head. “Not much. Seems like she’s changed since she broke up with Jericho. She started hanging with Logan, and all of a sudden she’s got this major attitude.”
“Logan makes me itch. He comes across as slimy or something.”
“I hear ya.” November nibbled on a carrot stick and thought about what Olivia had told her about Logan. “It was fun last fall when me and you and Arielle would sit together every day at lunch and just dominate.”
“Sharing shoes!”
“And clothes!”
“And gossip!”
“But never boyfriends!” November added. Both girls laughed.
“Dudes trippin’ all over their shoelaces just to talk to us,” Dana said with a smirk. “And the rest of the girls be hatin’ because of it!”
“Well, they don’t have to worry about me anymore. I can’t believe how fast I’m gaining weight. I feel like a whale.”
“You’re still skinny. Wait a couple of months, then I’ll listen to your whale tales,” Dana said.
November sighed. “I gotta remember not to stand too close to Miss Size Two Arielle. Not that she stops to give me the time of day anymore. It’s like she changed the station and moved to a different TV channel.”
“Tell me about it. When I pass her in the hall, she acts like she doesn’t know me. You know, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think her elevator went too deep underground anyway. You know what I’m sayin’?” said Dana as she sucked down the rest of her drink.
“That’s my girl Arielle. Fluttering around like a little butterfly to whatever makes her look good,” November said decidedly.
“She hurt Jericho real bad.” Dana squashed her juice box.
“Yeah, I know I felt bad enough when Josh died. But Jericho and Josh were tight like brothers. He needed his girl to be there for him.”
“And she dissed him. Like somebody steppin’ on a roach.”
November nodded. “She’ll get what’s coming to her one day.”
“Maybe not. Girls like Arielle always get over,” Dana said with a shrug. “So, have you thought any more about what you’re going to do?”
It was November’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know. Get fat. Get talked about. Get a job, I guess. I just hope I can graduate next year with the rest of you.” She scraped at the red fingernail polish on her thumb.
“You seem to have a handle
on things, sort of.”
“Not hardly! My life is one huge, red-glowing question mark sitting in front of me like a neon sign. What am I supposed to do with a baby?”
“I feel for you, girl. I’ve got your back, but I gotta tell you—I’m glad it’s not me.”
“You know, it’s like I’ve lost control of my whole body. One minute I’m laughing like a crazy bird, not even aware I’m peeing in my pants, and the next minute I’m on my knees in tears. So is my mother, and she’s not even pregnant!”
Dana hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you ever think about, you know, like, getting rid of the baby?”
November scraped the polish off another nail before she answered. “When I first figured out I’d got myself knocked up, I gotta admit, the thought crossed my mind. I was stupid scared, and I’d never felt so alone in my life. I got to thinking maybe I could just delete this mess-up in my life like I delete a computer file. It sure woulda made everything easier.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Well, I was terrified of going to one of those places where protesters picket out front with pictures of dead babies on posters. And the thought of somebody digging inside my body to scrape a human being out scared me even more. I just couldn’t do it.” She blew the fragments of red polish onto the floor.
Dana started to answer, but the rattle of a food tray crashing to the floor, a huge thud, and someone screaming, “Quit it!” caught her attention. Sudden silence followed in the noisy lunchroom.
Only one teacher was monitoring the cafeteria—a short, thin, first-year teacher named Mr. Price, who seemed to be scared of the kids. Once they’d all figured that out, it was over. Kofi and Jericho used to run up behind him and shout, “Hey, Mr. Price! Hey, Mr. Price!” The little man would jump every single time. They all predicted he wouldn’t be back next year.
November watched Mr. Price scurry out of the lunchroom, and then she and Dana rushed to the far side of the cafeteria. Arielle and Logan were there, laughing and pointing at Olivia Thigpen, who sat in the middle of the floor. The school lunch special, which today had been spaghetti and meatballs, decorated her hair. A few students started to join in the laughter but stopped when they saw Dana stomping toward them, and the fire in November’s eyes.
November marched over to where Olivia sat and reached out to help her up, but Olivia shook her off.
“I got this under control,” she said, her voice tight.
“You ought to try to keep that waistline under control,” Arielle snipped, hands on hips.
“What are you doing, Arielle?” Dana asked her furiously. “Are you crazy? Leave her alone!”
“Logan told me all about her—the tramp!” Arielle replied angrily.
November glanced over at Arielle with amazement. Could Arielle actually be jealous of Olivia?
Finally Olivia stood up with amazing dignity, even though chocolate milk ran down her arms and spaghetti sauce dripped down the back of her red-striped T-shirt. “I can fight my own battles, Dana,” she said with quiet menace.
Arielle scooted over to Logan. “I’m not scared of a pigpen like you,” she told Olivia. “If you weren’t so big and clumsy, you wouldn’t have spilled your food.”
Olivia took a deep breath and stepped toward Arielle, who seemed to shrink as Olivia got closer. Olivia was like an approaching electrical storm—thunder and lightning and extreme danger. November figured she had a hundred pounds on Arielle. No one spoke.
Olivia stopped only when her face was inches away from Arielle’s. As her face grew darker with fury, Arielle’s grew paler. Then she spoke, loudly and clearly. “I’m here to warn you. I never forget anything! Never. For now, just run, little salt shaker, run! Because if I hit you, I swear I will hurt you.”
Arielle ran. She grabbed Logan’s hand and darted out a side door.
Everybody in the cafeteria cheered as they left. November looked at Olivia with new respect. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Olivia gathered her belongings and answered, “Just leave me alone.” She stormed out the cafeteria door and onto the sidewalk.
“Should we go after her?” Dana asked.
“No. Leave her some dignity.”
“I can’t believe Arielle did that,” said Dana with disbelief.
“She was dizzy before, but not mean. Logan sure brings out the worst in her.”
By that time Mr. Price, who had first peeked in the door to make sure all was quiet, walked over to the area where bits of brown milk and red sauce remained on the floor. “Anybody see what happened?” he asked.
“Yeah, I saw it,” a boy replied. “One of the little ninth-grade boys spilled his lunch.”
“That’s right, man. Clumsy little kids,” another girl added.
Mr. Price looked down at the food, then directed his question to November and Dana. “Was there a problem here, girls?”
“No, sir,” they answered together.
“I think the boy ran into the bathroom over there,” November told the teacher.
Mr. Price seemed to be relieved that he didn’t have to deal with a major altercation. He thanked November and hurried out into the hall to find the boy who would not be there.
CHAPTER 15
MONDAY, MAY 10
INSTEAD OF ATTACKING THE PROBLEM head-on, November and her mother seemed to have developed a system of dealing with each other, and with November’s pregnancy, by talking in circles. November thought it was almost funny.
“Would you like some extra eggs?” her mother would ask at breakfast. She would never suggest that November should eat more or eat healthier for the baby—only that November might be hungry.
Or November would say, “I think I’ll wear my blue warm-up suit to school this morning.” She never mentioned that her jeans were getting too tight in the waist, and the warm-ups felt much more comfortable. November wondered how long they would continue to tiptoe around the situation.
As far as November knew, her mother had told no one, not even her best friends. Probably especially not her best friends, November thought ruefully. Much too embarrassing to admit that the daughter you had boasted about to everyone had gotten herself knocked up.
When her mother came home from work that day, she turned on her satellite radio to the blues station and cranked up the volume as high as she could. It was her daily relaxer. “Healthier than a glass of wine!” she’d always tell her daughter.
November used to hate the guitar-belting, sorrow-singing blues wailers when she was younger, but lately she found herself sometimes moving to the deep rhythms or tapping her feet to the heartache spoken by the gravel-voiced singers. Actually, sometimes she found the gut-busting sorrow that exploded from the blues music oddly comforting, especially considering the mess she was now in.
As a sultry-sounding woman sang, “My man is gone for good!” November helped her mother fix dinner—chock-full of healthy foods neither of them had bothered with a month ago. Enough lettuce to choke a rabbit. Fresh carrots, green beans with almonds, and baked chicken—never fried these days. November sighed. “I really miss junk food, Mom.”
Her mother looked at her with her head tilted a bit. “You’re going to miss a lot more, you know,” she began.
“Yeah, I know. I know.” November didn’t want to hear any speeches.
“I’ve been thinking, November,” her mother said, “that you don’t have a clue about what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“It’s not like I planned it,” November retorted as she poured low-fat dressing on her salad.
“Do you have any idea how much baby stuff costs?” her mother asked.
“You mean like little T-shirts and stuff? Don’t people give you those at a shower?” November had never really thought that far into the future.
“Oh, come on, honey. Don’t be so naive. Assuming you have a shower, what happens when those three or four pieces you receive as gifts get dirty, or the baby outg
rows them?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’d have to buy some more.” November wished her mother would get off her back. This was getting annoying.
“And what will you use for money? Your American Express Gold Card?” Mrs. Nelson wore a faint smile.
November scowled. “I guess I’ll have to use my allowance money.”
“Allowance money is for teenagers who go to school and need notebook paper or lunch money or a candy bar. It’s not for baby clothes and diapers. You’ve kinda moved from the world of a kid who really has nothing to worry about except doing homework and washing the dinner dishes, to the other side of the street—to the domain of a young mother who has to take care of her own kid.” She waited for this to sink in.
“So what am I supposed to do?” November finally replied, a little fear in her voice. “You’re not gonna help me?”
Instead of answering, her mother asked, “How much does a box of diapers cost, November? And how many diapers does a baby use in a day? Or a week?”
“I don’t know. Can’t we just figure out all that stuff as we get to it?” November felt like she was choking on her salad.
“What about baby food? Formula? Bottles? Spoons? Blankets? Clothes? Do you have any idea how much any of this costs? What about day care? Who is going to watch the baby when you go back to school? I certainly can’t—I have to go to work.”
“Why are you sweatin’ me like this?” November said, becoming frightened as well as annoyed.
“I don’t sleep at night, November, wondering about the answers to all those questions,” her mother said honestly. “I think it’s time you figured some of this out yourself.”
“I guess I’ll get a job,” November said weakly. “Babies are little. It couldn’t cost that much to feed one. Right?”
“Babies grow up, and become children, and then young adults like you,” her mother reminded her. “Have you given any thought at all to how you’ll take care of this baby, how you’ll pay for what it needs?”
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