“Audrey.”
“Or if California’s too far,” she continued, “we could keep it East Coast. Philadelphia, Boston, Rhode Island . . . Wouldn’t that be fun? We’ll road trip, do all the fun things.” Audrey sat up straight, tapping her hand on the smooth wood of the stairs. The fantasy of California was beaches, bikinis for her and a shirtless Julian, putting sunscreen on each other, pretending like they knew how to surf. They’d stay in a cool hotel and eat disgusting amounts of room service at two a.m. “But California would be best—I could show you the things I remember from when I was a kid. I could show you our old house!”
“Audrey,” Julian said again, and this time the warning was clear. “I don’t think . . . Maybe we shouldn’t be making any big plans. Not right now, not until everything’s . . . under control.”
The sick feeling returned. It was November now, and school finished in May. In summer she would—could—might be, what, eight months gone? Nine? This is one of those times when it would be helpful to know exactly how pregnant you are, she thought. Impending motherhood—you’re doing it right!
“I know. You’re right.” Audrey looked down at her stomach, trying to imagine it all swollen and big. But even when she squeezed her eyes shut and focused all her energy, she couldn’t do it. Instead she saw Julian, summer tanned and grinning. He’d look good in California.
She stood, the stairs creaking under her feet. Eleven steps down from her attic room and another thirteen down to the ground level, where her mom and Adam were making Sunday dinner. It had been easy to push all thought of this moment aside when she was with her friends this weekend, laughing with Olivia, listening to María practicing her debate speeches; but now the time was here, and there was no more avoiding it. “You ready for this?”
“Could I ever be?” Julian said, but he sounded a little more cheerful. “If you don’t hear from me after, please contact the police, because it’s a one hundred percent certainty that my mother will have killed me.”
Audrey laughed, although at what, she wasn’t sure. But the laughter felt better than the pressure in her head, so she let it roll. “Of course.”
“Hopefully she’ll leave the homicide for another night, and I’ll be able to check in at nine,” he said. “Like we planned.”
“Hopefully.” Audrey took her first step, her stockinged feet sliding on the wood. “I feel like I should say something, but what? Good luck? That doesn’t seem right.”
“I’ll take it,” Julian said. “And ditto. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Audrey said softly. “Talk later.”
She hung up and continued downstairs, holding her arms tight around her body. Walk in there and tell them straight, she thought. Like a Band-Aid. Rip it off.
Audrey heard the two of them laughing even before she got to the kitchen. When she did, she stopped in the doorway and pulled in a breath through her nose. Adam stood over a pot of boiling water, occasionally peering down at it, while her mom was next to him stirring something that smelled amazing.
She watched as Adam bobbed his head to the jazz playing out of Laura’s iPod, bumping her with his hip in a way that caused Laura’s arm to jerk, sending bright orangey-red liquid splattering across the cabinets. Her mom gasped, then dipped her thumb into the liquid and smeared it on Adam’s cheek, sending him into childish giggles.
Audrey loved Adam, the closest thing to a father she’d ever had. Not that Adam was anything like her friends’ fathers—he didn’t care if she cursed, sometimes gave her a beer when they were watching the game, and thought punishment meant taking away those beers. But he was good at all the things that mattered: teaching her how to drive, listening when she and Julian had gotten into a fight. Knowing her favorite foods. Before he’d come on the scene, Audrey had worried—what would her mom do when Audrey went to college? There’d be no one to listen to her complain about her staff at the theater, the persistent calls from her manager, or the scripts filling her in-box. How would her mom come home to a silent house day after day and not get lonely?
But then Adam had come along, like magic, and Audrey stopped worrying. They were good together, she thought, watching her mom dab the tomato sauce from Adam’s face, watching him pull her in for a very nonparental—but sweet—kiss. Happy.
She wished, painfully so, that what she was about to tell them wouldn’t completely dent that happiness.
Audrey cleared her throat, taking a step into the kitchen. “I hate to interrupt, but . . .”
“Oh!” Laura jumped, putting her hand over her heart. “God, you’re quiet. Anybody ever tell you you’d make an excellent covert agent?”
“As a matter of fact . . .” Audrey trailed off, unsure where she was going with it. “Um. No?”
Her mom turned back to the pan on the stove. “Do you want to set the table? Dinner should be about five minutes.”
Audrey wrung her hands. Rip. It. Off. They’d agreed, it was easier that way. Like they’d agreed it would be easier if they each told their parents separately tonight, to not have the awkwardness of sitting through the same conversation twice. Or Julian’s dad flipping out and calling up his terrifying grandmother to yell at them, as Julian had considered a very real possibility. Really, Audrey was relieved not to have to be there when Julian’s mom found out, as pathetic as that was. Her mom’s disappointment was going to be all she could handle. She didn’t need another mother’s sadness weighing on her conscience.
“Actually . . .” She looked away from Adam, afraid that if she met his eyes she’d lose her nerve. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.”
Her mom glanced over her shoulder. “About what?”
Audrey crossed her ankles. She had to pee suddenly, and her neck itched from the tag in her shirt, and her mom had a streak of flour mixed in with the red of her hair. That smudge of flour sent a strange sadness through Audrey like she’d never felt before.
“Audrey?” Her mom sounded impatient. “Is—”
Do it.
“I’m pregnant.”
Her mom turned around, painfully slow, and then there was the clang of Adam dropping the knife in his hand, a sharp echo on the countertop. Laura inhaled sharply. “You’re what?”
Audrey swallowed; now that the most important part was out, she couldn’t stop the rest of it from tumbling out. “It was an accident. I take my birth control, I do, and I know you know that, because you trust me. Right? That’s what you say anyway, and I believe you, and I don’t know why it didn’t work, I guess we’re in that lucky zero point one percent of people, but it happened, and so I don’t want you to be mad at me for not taking precautions or being sensible because I am, we are, we were, and I don’t want you to think I’m stupid—and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before tonight, not that I’ve known for forever or anything, only a couple weeks or so, and I kind of wanted to get my head straight before I said anything but it turns out I can’t get my head straight and so—”
“Audrey.” Adam crossed the kitchen in two long strides and placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning down. “Take a breath.”
She did as he said, her heart slowing as she breathed out. Adam nodded, squeezing her shoulders. “And again.”
Audrey inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, all the while keeping her eyes level with Adam’s. So much for staying calm and clear.
She was so focused on breathing that she’d almost forgotten about the bombshell she’d dropped. Until, that was, her mom spoke again. “You’re pregnant?”
Laura’s voice was high, breathy, in a way that Audrey couldn’t tell was good or bad. She wriggled out of Adam’s grip and stepped around him, taking in the two bright spots that had appeared on her mom’s cheeks and the softness of her eyes. “Mom?”
“Oh, baby.” Her mom held out her arms, and Audrey rushed into them, pressing her cheek into her mom’s neck. “Oh, Audrey. Always surprising me, aren’t you?”
Audrey tried to stifle her laugh, but that meant it exploded from her instead, a sudden
bubbly noise that caused her mom to jump. “Sorry, sorry, I know it’s not funny, I know.”
But then her mom’s chuckle reverberated through her. “I guess it is a little funny,” she said. “In an absurd way.”
Audrey disentangled herself, looking from her mom to Adam and back again. “Are you mad?”
Her mom seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking her head. “No. I’m not mad.”
“But you’re . . . disappointed.” Audrey stated it; it was easy to hear in her mom’s voice.
“Well. Maybe a little,” Laura said. “But not in you. Okay? Disappointed that you’re . . . going through this.”
Audrey pulled on her bottom lip. She didn’t get the distinction, but at least her mom hadn’t imploded. Not yet anyway.
She took a step toward Adam, opening her mouth to say . . . she didn’t know what. Are you disappointed? Are you mad? Are you wishing you could bail on our family because a pregnant sort-of-stepdaughter wasn’t what you signed up for?
Adam got there first, his voice sharp. “Where’s Julian in all this? Why isn’t he here? If he thinks he’s going to—”
“He’s not,” Audrey said quickly. “I swear. At least, he swears. He’s at home right now.” She paused to tug the ends of her sweater sleeves over her cold hands. “He’s telling his parents, too. We thought it would be easier this way. So everyone knows at the same time.”
They fell into silence again, quiet enough to notice the pots on the stove going crazy. Laura swore as more red liquid decorated the tiles, and Adam rushed over to help turn everything down. Audrey stayed rooted to the spot, waiting for whatever was coming next and wondering how it was going for Julian. Maybe doing it separately hadn’t been the best idea.
Or maybe that’s the idea you should have had months ago, the voice in her head said. Think of all the pregnancy you wouldn’t be enduring if you had “Done It” separately—get it? Audrey hid her smirk behind her sweater-covered hands. What the fuck was wrong with her?
“So.” Her mom’s shirt was now decorated with their dinner, a nice complement to the flour in her hair. “How many weeks are you?”
“I don’t know,” Audrey said. “Which is stupid, too. Sorry.”
Adam’s cheek twitched. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, kiddo. What’s done is done, and besides, what are you apologizing for, exactly? You haven’t done anything to us.”
Audrey nodded. “I know. Sorry.” She winced.
“Well, first things first—we need to get you an appointment with Dr. Miller,” her mom said, all business now. “And we’ll need to get together with Julian and his parents, too, so we can talk. Have you . . .” She hesitated, her eyebrows knitting together. “Have you made any decisions yet?”
As fucking if.
But all Audrey said was “Not—no.”
“Right,” her mom said, nodding slowly, as if to herself. The shake in her voice was almost unnoticeable, except that Audrey knew her mom’s voice better than anything in the world and so heard it clearly. “Well. I suppose it would be an understatement for me to say this won’t be easy. But whatever you want to do, it’s your decision,” she continued, and Audrey heard the echo of what her mom had said when she’d handed over the letter from her birth mother. “We’ll help you, but we’re not going to make it for you or force you to do anything. And no matter what you decide, we’ll support you. Won’t we?”
Audrey flicked her eyes to Adam, relieved to see him nodding. “Of course we will,” he said, and the smile he offered made Audrey’s eyes sting. “Come on, kiddo. So this isn’t ideal. But it’s not the end of the world. We’re all alive.”
“Thanks.” Audrey swallowed, folding her arms and breathing, just breathing, until she felt more in control. “I’ll, um, I’ll go set the table now. Okay?”
She waited only long enough for them both to say okay back and then hurried into the dining room. Lowering into her usual chair, she lifted her hands to her face and inhaled the scent of her mom’s perfume lingering on her, dark and sweet.
They’re not mad. It’s not the end of the world. Audrey managed the world’s smallest smile. Maybe things weren’t quite as bad as she’d thought they were.
All through dinner, when she was washing the dishes, when she was curled up on the couch for an episode of Twin Peaks with her mom (not that they paid attention, Laura tracing small, soothing circles on Audrey’s back instead), Audrey still felt a little unsettled. She kept checking her phone, waiting for a response from Julian. Admittedly, she’d jumped the gun a little and tried to call him at eight forty-five, but now it was thirty minutes later and she had yet to hear from him.
“Want to watch another?” Her mom glanced over with the remote in her hand, ready to press Play. “Aud?”
“Hmm?” Audrey tore her gaze away from her phone. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Her phone vibrated in her hand then, and Audrey almost dropped it in her rush to check the message. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.
“Audrey.” A warning from her mom.
“Sorry.” Audrey ignored the TV and finally opened the (now multiple) texts from Julian:
Sorry I’m late—have been sitting in a lecture for an hour.
Mom upset, Dad going the disappointed route. BUT still didn’t go as bad as I thought. Think it’ll be okay once they process.
I still have a place to live, at least :)
Can’t call, they’re still hanging around, but glad your mom and Adam didn’t flip out either.
See you tomorrow. Love.
Audrey read through the words on the screen three times, each time her heart slowing a bit. Okay—things were okay with Julian, too. And now everyone knew everything, and it was all out in the open.
Well. Except for Rose and the others.
Audrey shook off that thought, and her fingers flew across her phone as she typed a response to Julian:
We’re still alive! :)
There was no one she could imagine going through this with other than Julian. He was it.
One day you’ll write a song about this and it’ll be worth it. Kidding! Kind of. See you tomorrow.
And knowing they were so together right now gave Audrey this almost invincible feeling. Like, if they could get through this, what couldn’t they get through? Everything else paled in comparison. Everything else was just a distraction. That was how she felt.
We can figure this out. Right?
They would figure it out, because they were Audrey and Julian, thinking the same way, doing things right. They were.
Love you.
EIGHTEEN
In the morning Audrey woke up to see the time on her phone was forty minutes past when she should have gotten up. She bolted out of bed, rubbing roughly at her eyes. “Shit,” she breathed, stripping her pajamas and falling smack into the sharp edge of her desk in her rush. “Ow! Shit.”
A quick shower later and Audrey was back in her room, throwing on the first clean(ish) clothes she could find. She grabbed her camera and textbooks, the math problems she hadn’t even started yesterday slipping onto the floor. Detention it was.
Downstairs in the kitchen there was a brown lunch bag waiting on the counter, next to a note with her name written on it. Audrey unrolled the top and peered inside: a blueberry muffin, apple slices, chunks of pale-yellow cheese, and her favorite chocolate. On top of everything lay a bright-orange flower, its stem snipped short.
Audrey looked at the scrawl of her name and smiled at her mom’s trademark sloppy handwriting. She would have had to get up extra early to do this, to go out and buy the specific chocolate Audrey ate only rarely because it was so extortionately expensive, to get the pretty flower and cut it just so.
She tucked the lunch into her bag and headed out to her car, still smiling. Last night was the best night’s sleep she’d gotten since seeing the plus sign appear. It felt like now she could move on—stop being so stuck on all the maybes and what ifs, the somedays and the somehows. Not that she
suddenly knew exactly what to do—I wish, she thought. But her head did feel clearer. She and Julian could discuss things without the . . . threat, worry, fear of their parents’ reactions. And she’d finally tell Rose now. Soon.
By the time Audrey pulled into the parking lot—finding a space way at the back, next to the recycling bins—the first bell was ringing. She flipped up the hood of her jacket and dashed out into the rain, setting off at a jog that reminded her exactly how little exercise she got. Outside the front entrance Olivia’s blue hair shone next to Jen’s red ponytail, the others standing in a loose circle with them. She forced out an extra burst of energy and pounded up the rain-slicked steps, clutching her books to her chest. “Hey!” she panted. “I thought I would’ve missed you guys. I overslept.”
Olivia grinned at her. “You’re just in time.”
Audrey fell in step with Rose as the group headed for the doors. “Hey,” she said. “I didn’t see you at all this weekend.”
Rose folded her umbrella and shook it, spraying Audrey with a thousand icy-cold droplets. “So?”
“So nothing,” Audrey said. “I was just saying. Anyway, are you busy after school? Can we do something?”
They could go get burgers and laugh at Coop, or catch a movie, maybe, one that would require zero brain power. All she wanted right now was to take a break from worrying. Keep the secret to herself a little while longer, and have some actual real-life fun.
But Rose shook her head, her tawny hair swirling over her shoulders. “Can’t,” she said shortly. “I have class. Another time.”
“Sure,” Audrey said, keeping her voice upbeat. Even though that was a lie, she thought. Rose doesn’t dance on Mondays. Ever. “Okay,” she said. “Pick a day, any day, this week.”
“I’m so busy,” Rose said. “With class and homework, and my dad’s on my ass about SAT shit . . .”
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