by Laci Maskell
If I broke up with her there is a ninety percent chance she would immediately be in the arms of my best friend. That thought bothers me more than it should. If I were a better friend I never would have gotten with her in the first place. She started out as Jesse’s and she will end up as Jesse’s. I think it’s pride and selfishness that makes me keep her, though I like to tell myself I am being self-sacrificial and a good friend by keeping someone so heinous away from him.
I turn the radio on to cut the silence.
Amelia, dissatisfied with what I have chosen, turns the dial and says, “Can you believe how fat that pregnant chick is?”
I cough on the saliva in my mouth and have to grip the steering wheel hard to keep myself from strangling her. But I can’t strangle her because I have to be Amelia’s boyfriend Greyson, not Lux’s baby’s father Greyson.
I take a deep breath and try to figure out how to handle this. I can’t say nothing because Amelia will get suspicious but I can’t agree with her because then I will feel like a jackass.
“I think that’s what happens when you get pregnant,” I say. There. Not offensive but not nothing.
“If that’s the case, I’m never having kids,” Amelia says.
It’s probably best she doesn’t help add to the population. I best not tell her that.
“Do you think she’ll keep it?” Amelia asks.
I’m really curious as to why Amelia would be talking about Lux. Not that she has actually said Lux’s name. I’m not sure she knows it.
I already know the answer to this question. It’s not something I like to think about. But I’m not about to tell Amelia. Telling Amelia that Lux plans to give the baby to strangers would only give her more ammunition to use against Lux. I won’t have that.
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
“God, I wouldn’t if I were her,” she says. “Even if it was your baby.” I almost choke when she says this. “But can’t you imagine what a cute baby we would make.”
I think I’m going to pass out. This is not something I want to talk about.
“I guess,” I tell her. Noncommittal. It will keep her appeased and yet curious.
“Greyson,” Amelia says sternly.
I freeze, thinking she’s figured out that I’m the father of Lux’s baby, then calm down because how could she have guessed that.
“What?” I ask, a bit concerned as to what she’s going to yell at me for.
“You missed the turn,” she says and raises an eyebrow at me.
“Oh,” I say, relaxing a bit. This is going to be a long night.
While we bowl, Amelia mentions nothing about the pregnant girl and I do my best to turn off my Lux radar and have fun with my girlfriend.
Chapter Eleven
Nineteen Weeks
Lux
I sit in English class trying my damnedest not to look at Greyson. I try to focus on my classmates discussing Lord of the Flies. Some discuss it intelligently, while others try to ruin the class by arguing with Mr. Rush that the book is inappropriate for us to be learning in school. Mr. Rush’s rebuttal is that we are in an advanced placement English class and if we cannot handle the material we should exit said class.
I haven’t spoken much today, or the past week for that matter. My relationship with Mr. Rush has become weird. I don’t want to face him alone. I’m afraid of what he might do. No. That’s not true. I’m not afraid. I’m . . . cautious. Let’s be honest, Mr. Rush is hot. And he knows a thing or two about my favorite subject. And I can’t deny the fact that I’ve thought about kissing him about a thousand times. But he is my teacher and I don’t want either of us to get into trouble. Not to mention the Greyson factor. Not that that is really a thing. But it still has me hitting the this-can’t-happen button.
Mr. Rush asks if we were stranded on an island would we try to have order and control like the boys in the book started to or would we lose our minds.
“Ok, seriously, the conch was a terrible idea,” one of the guys in my class says. “That kind of thing never works. Never. In no movie, book, TV show, does any of that kind of thing work. They all elect a leader then when he makes one wrong move they over throw him. The conch would never work because as soon as someone uses it the wrong way chaos ensues.”
He’s got a point. And I kind of agree with him. I’m glad he talked because now I don’t have to.
A girl sitting two seats away from me and twirling her hair says, “Yes order and control can work. They were just little boys who didn’t know how to keep the order going. If the book had adults stuck on the island they would have kept control.”
Another girl speaks up and says, “Uh, hello, have you never seen Lost?”
I chuckle at that.
Mr. Rush speaks up and says, “So you think children are weak and incapable of ruling themselves? Incapable of surviving?”
“Yes,” the girl says smugly.
Dimwit.
“No,” Tad says. “They were totally capable. They had hunting parties. They had food sources. They had boys who were in charge of taking care of the even younger boys. They built shelter. They had it together. If one or a few of them didn’t get power hungry or didn’t think they needed to get their way, they so would have made it.”
Good for him.
Sitting back and listening, I find that I quite like taking a passive role in the class instead of voicing my opinion at every second.
The smug girl speaks up and says, “Um, they still would have failed because you are only as strong as your weakest link.”
That strikes a nerve with me. She is speaking about the little boys and Piggy. I like Piggy. If those boys didn’t have Piggy, they wouldn’t have been able to light a fire.
“Lux? Any thoughts?” Mr. Rush says from the front of the room.
I want to decline and listen to the rest of my class hash it out, but I am me and I can’t help but say what I think.
“Well, as far as the little boys go, it’s not their fault they are young and weak. Strength comes with age and experience. And for Piggy, his glasses were the only way they could light a fire. And although he wasn’t the best hunter he served as the moral center of the group. He tried to keep the boys sane and good people and they ridiculed him for it. I feel bad for him.”
“Of course you would, you’re both fat,” someone says from across the room.
No one snickers. By now they know how much trouble they will get in if they make fun of me. But knowing that they all want to hurts more than the laughter itself.
I suck in a sharp intake of breath. I should be used to it by now but the ridicule catches me by surprise every time. And while I sit in my seat, humiliated, I feel Greyson’s eyes on me. I want to run from the room. I want to sit in a bathroom stall and cry. But instead I take a deep breath and stay seated. Dr. Coughlin insisted I keep my stress levels down or I would endanger my baby. And if I endanger my baby I can’t come to school and I will not repeat this year. So keep my stress levels low is what I try to do.
Mr. Rush crosses his arms and says, “Detention. The entire class. For a week.”
They didn’t make a peep when the offender made the comment, but now that they all have detention for it the whole class erupts in angry boos and inappropriate comments.
“And,” Mr. Rush says, “Every one of you will write a five page paper on the implications of believing that you are only as strong as your weakest link instead of making your weakest link stronger.”
More boos and groans erupt from the class. The chaos almost drowns out the sound of the bell.
I’m not sure whether I want to wait out the crowd so I don’t get attacked in the hall or gather my stuff as quickly as possible to escape them. My indecision makes my decision. When most of the students have filed out I grab my stuff and walk to the door. Mr. Rush watches me but does not ask me to stay. I’m glad. He would have asked me if I am ok. I would tell him I’m fine. And he wouldn’t believe me. Same old.
Greyson and I reac
h the door at the same time. He lets me walk through first.
If I wasn’t finely attuned to all that is Greyson I would have missed it but I hear him say, “Are you okay.”
He doesn’t look at me and I don’t think he moved his lips, but I heard it.
His concern makes my breath catch. Before I have time to answer we are out the door and he has joined his group of friends.
Maybe he didn’t ask me if I was okay. Maybe he said something like thanks for getting me detention because surely that would be a more Greyson thing to say.
Leah hops up alongside me, smiles, and cheerily says, “Hey.”
When she sees my face, hers falls.
I laugh watching how easily she is discouraged.
“What happened?” she asks, now with a frown on her face.
“I think I got a week of detention,” I say, trying to slide humor into it.
“What?” Leah yells. “From Mr. Rush?” She lowers her voice and says, “How did you get detention from him? He loves you.”
“Well, you see,” I say, sarcastically. “Someone made fun of me and Mr. Rush gave the whole class detention for a week and since I happen to be in the class I think I got detention too.”
“That is so not fair. You should talk to him about it. You should talk to the principal about it.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Because that won’t get me made fun of even more.”
“Oh honestly, no one expects you to go to a detention that the class received because of you.”
“That made no sense,” I tell Leah as we walk to the cafeteria.
We grab a tray of food then sit down at our normal table.
“Have you picked your baby’s parents yet?” Leah asks.
Last week after my parents and I met with the adoptive couples I told Leah about it. I figured with my parents’ opinion, Leah’s opinion, and how I feel about the couples, I could narrow it down to one couple. Besides, Leah was hurt that I’m not keeping the baby so having her involved in the adoptive process makes her feel like she is still a part of it.
“I think so,” I tell her. “I’ve thought about it all week, and it makes me sick to my stomach that I might be making a mistake. But . . . I really loved Sean and Piper. It was like they were just like me. They were so nice and friendly and passionate about what they love. I want my baby to grow up with people like that. People who will let the baby be who he or she is.”
“Oh my god,” Leah squeals. “I love them. I don’t even know them but I love them.”
“Good,” I say.
My phone buzzes in my bag and when I reach for it Leah says, “Who on Earth is texting you besides me?”
She has this grin on her face and I can’t figure out why, but as I’m about to look at the screen of my phone a large presence makes itself known beside me. I turn to see Ryan one of the guys from my English class standing beside me, his arms crossed and his face pissed.
I wait for him to say something. But he doesn’t. I turn to Leah for anything really. She shrugs. I turn back to Ryan.
“Just so you know, we all think it’s unfair that we got detention because you are a big-lard-ass-slut-bitch who can’t take a joke. So we’re not going to detention. And if you thought you got made fun of before you have no idea what’s coming. The whole school is behind us. Get ready for your worst nightmare.”
“Hey, assface,” Leah says standing up.
“Leah, don’t,” I tell her. “It’s not worth it.
“Oh, ho. Don’t get me started on worth it,” Leah says loudly, then checks her voice and says, “Listen, Ryan, I’m friends with almost every single person in this school and unless you want everyone to know how small your dick is, or the fact that you had to repeat kindergarten, or the fact that your parents don’t sleep in the same bed, or the fact that your sister is in rehab, then I suggest you leave Lux alone. Got it?” Leah does a little head shake and I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of my throat.
Ryan glares at Leah for a full minute before he huffs and walks away.
I full on laugh now and say, “That was awesome. Can I have your autograph?”
“Ha ha,” Leah says and smiles.
“Is all that true?” I ask.
“Yeah, but you can’t say anything,” Leah says. “I’m really not a bitch unless I need to be. And as long as you stay relatively unscathed I don’t have to be.”
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I know.” Leah shrugs and feigns embarrassment then says, “But seriously, no one messes with you.”
We get back to our lunch until my phone buzzes on the table reminding me I have a message. When I click the screen on it shows a message from an unknown number.
A twitter starts in my stomach. A text from an unknown number could mean anything. It could be a mistake. Or it could be something else.
I swipe my screen over to unlock the message and read.
Lux. It’s Greyson. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang out with me sometime.
My stomach doesn’t just twitch, it lurches. Greyson really wants to hang out with me? That is beyond amazing. From the night we met at that party and the time we’ve spent together, I thought we had a connection, but I didn’t think Greyson could feel it. But what if he does? I can’t honestly fool myself into believing Greyson would leave Amelia for me. No. He wouldn’t do that. So why would he want to spend time with me?
My stomach drops. What if this is just a prank from some jackhole? Ryan said they were going to get back at me. They could be watching me right now. Gaging my reaction. Oh god. I used to be invisible in the school. I would give anything to go back to that.
I can’t stay in the cafeteria any longer.
“I gotta go,” I tell Leah, grabbing my bag and not bothering to wait for her to say something.
I head for the door in a calm manner. If someone is messing with me I don’t want them to think they have affected me. And if it was Greyson, who I don’t bother to find among my peers, he won’t think I’m leaving because of his text.
I need to find a quiet place I can go to think about and analyze the message. The first place I find is the empty English room.
I sit at my desk and reread the message.
Lux. It’s Greyson. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang out with me sometime.
If the message actually came from Greyson, it makes me think of his concern after English today. My head feels weird. There’s an odd pressure at the back of my skull. Tears well in the corners of my eyes. Who knew a simple text message could elicit so much emotion.
The question now is, do I respond to the text. If it is from Greyson and I respond now, I could get him in trouble with Amelia and his friends. But if it is a joke someone is playing on me and I respond, it could blow up in my face.
I open the text message to read it one final time, maybe to glean something new from it, the door to the classroom opens. I hide my phone and snap my head up to identify the intruder.
Mr. Rush.
Turning my head back around, I wipe away the tears that were about to spill over.
“Lux, are you okay?” Mr. Rush asks. I can hear his footsteps as he walks towards me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell him.
“Have you been in here crying?” he asks from in front of me.
I suddenly feel uncomfortable with him standing above me. I move to stand up and get more control over the situation.
“No, I just needed a minute alone.”
“If that idiot hurt you, I’m so sorry. People like that are stupid. And so wrong,” he says. Mr. Rush takes a step towards me. He places his hands on my arms and holds me tightly. “You are so beautiful.”
Something happens to my heart. I can’t put a finger on it. But it seems to swell. No one has ever told me I’m beautiful. And the fact that it comes from an older, very good looking guy makes me feel like it could be true.
My heart pounds quicker when I look up to see him staring int
ently down at me. His hands feel warm around my arms.
As if it is second nature to him, Mr. Rush leans down and touches his lips to mine. The light pressure stills me. I know this is wrong. I know he is my teacher and he could get into so much trouble. I know this is wrong. But still I find myself kissing him back. His lips are soft. They feel good against mine. I could do this. I could be with my English teacher. I could fall for him.
Mr. Rush deepens the kiss and pulls me closer. My protruding belly touches his flat stomach. The breath catches in my throat and I pull away from him.
I can’t be with him. I’m pregnant with another guy’s baby. A guy who I have feelings for.
I try to catch my breath but the thoughts dive bombing me don’t help.
“Lux, are you okay?” he asks.
“I can’t do this,” I tell him, pulling out of his arms.
“Yes, you can. You just were. What changed?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“I know that. I don’t care, if that’s what you mean.”
“How can you not?” I ask, taking steps away from him.
“Are you with him?” he asks, taking steps towards me.
“No.”
“I can help you raise the baby. I will love it like mine. I promise you.”
“No.”
“Lux,” Mr. Rush says, reaching for me. “Calm down. It’s okay.” Again he places his hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me. I care about you. Deeply. I love you. And I want to be in your life. Baby or no baby.”
“You can’t love me,” I say, though the reasons aren’t clear at the moment.
Mr. Rush laughs and pulls me closer. I lay my head on his chest and feel his laughter rumble beneath his ribs. No one has ever told me they loved me.
He pulls me back, glances down at me and asks, “Do you want to be with me?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. Because I don’t. I have no chance with Greyson, and yet I pine for him. I have no chance with my English teacher, because he is my teacher, and yet here he is, telling me he loves me and he wants me to love him back. I know how wrong this is and yet the ache of loneliness and unrequited love leaves me standing in my teacher’s arms and not running from him.