“What is that?” Dad asks from my doorway.
“A CD from Zack,” I answer. I have this strange urge to tell my dad I’m pregnant just so I can say it’s not Zack’s doing, but I don’t. I’m going to put that off for as long as I can.
“I don’t like it.” He’s using his smooth voice. The one that’s supposed to show how kind he is.
“I thought you wanted to encourage us to make our own choices.” I know he’s not going to be happy with me now , but really, how bad can it get? I’ve already done the worst thing on his list. He just doesn’t know it yet.
“Well, that’s true, Dani.” Great. He’s in full mediator force now. “But when your decision affects the rest of the children in this household, things need to change.”
I reach out and hit the power button on my radio. My tiny shelf is packed with books and music, but I know where that button is. I’m asked to use it often.
“Goodnight, Danielle. I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.” I roll over to make eye contact so he knows I’m serious , but more than that, so he’ll go away. He wants to make a “connection” with his kids as often as possible. Usually, it’s with something like this.
3
I wake up late, dig through my laundry basket of clean laundry, and pull out a Pacman T-shirt. There’s jeans in the bottom, and my socks don’t match exactly , but they both have blue stripes. I slide my hoodie on and dig in the pocket for my ponytail holder. As I head down the hallway, I pull up my hair hoping I don’t miss the bus for school. I hate walking all that way. Daniel looks as bleary-eyed as I must be. He rips open a package of pop tarts as the bus pulls up and hands me one.
When I get to school, I throw up in the toilet before first period. It smells like vomit and strawberry frosting. I’m never eating another pop tart again.
I sit on the cool tile floor and listen carefully for anyone else in the restroom. I don’t hear anything. When I slowly get up and go out to wash my hands and face, I see the bathroom door close. Great.
Right now I have a few options. I can run out and see who it is , but that seems a little ridiculous, because what do I do then? I can wait it out here in hopes that a lot of other girls come in, and I can leave with them. Blend into the crowd…This option also feels ridiculous.
I dry my hands, and leave the bathroom. I don’t look up to see if anyone’s watching because I’d rather not know. I’m completely aware I’m in denial right now, but it’s probably a better spot than reality. Like I’m hovering around what actually is instead of living it. Except the pop-tart throw-up.
~ ~ ~
Every morning all week, at the same time, my body just needs to throw up. Seven fifteen, sharp. I stop eating breakfast. My list of acceptable breakfast foods is shrinking too fast.
On Friday I get a note in fifth period to go to the nurse’s office. I feel sick again. I’m sure someone’s noticed me losing my breakfast every morning. What on earth am I going to tell her? Does she have some sort of obligation to tell my parents? Either way, it’s bad. I’m too terrible a liar to attempt.
“Danielle LeClaire.” The nurse smiles, a big, white, perfect smile as I walk into her small office.
“That’s me.” I attempt to smile back only I’m not sure if comes out right or not.
“Have a seat.” She gestures to a chair on the opposite side of the desk from her before tucking her short, brown hair behind an ear.
“Thanks.” I sit. So far this is easy. Name, got it. Sit, I can do that too. I’m sure though, that the questions are going to get more difficult.
“So, you’re probably wondering why I brought you down here.” She leans back in her chair and peers at me through her funky striped glasses.
“A little.” Not at all.
“Are you okay? I’ve gotten a few reports that you’ve thrown up in the mornings. I would assume that if you were that sick, you, or your parents, would have kept you home from school so I’m guessing it’s something else.”
“Have you called my parents?” I ask. I try hard to make my voice sound normal, but I’m sure I completely fail.
“Nope.” She looks evenly at me over her desk. “I didn’t even enter my request for you to come see me into the system.”
I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Then I realize I probably should have masked it a little better.
“So, what’s going on Danielle?” I can tell that she won’t push it too hard right now , but if I don’t answer, she’ll call me down again.
“It’s Dani.” I can barely hear my voice.
“Dani,” she says.
“I’m pregnant.” I chew on my lip and don’t meet her stare. So it’s crazy, but it feels good to tell someone, and an adult, someone who can actually do something for me.
“So, this is a pretty big thing.” She nods at me slowly.
I nod back. What else do you do when someone makes the most obvious statement in the world?
“Have you told your parents yet?”
I shake my head then panic. “Are you going to tell them?” I suddenly can’t breathe.
She looks conflicted enough that I almost bolt from her office. I’m not sure what that would accomplish in the end, but the thought crosses my mind.
“I’ll give you some time first, and pretend I don’t know.”
I try to take a deep breath in. “Thanks.” I’m sure it comes out in a mumble.
“Dani. You’re going to be fine.” Her smile is reassuring. But she doesn’t know I’ll be fine. She had to double-check my name. She doesn’t know my situation, my parents, nothing. All she knows about me is that I’m a senior, I’m pregnant and I’m in her office. “I’ll put in my computer that you stayed here for the afternoon with a headache, okay?”
I nod.
“I have some books and things you can look through. Stay in my office . Y ou have more privacy in here.”
That’s it? That’s all that’s happening to me?
“Thanks.” I let my eyes wander around her cramped space, filled with nothing but books and bookshelves.
“I’m going to get some things done. If you need to leave, let me know before you do okay?” She stands up.
“Okay.”
She has a binder for pregnant teens that she hands to me.
I’m not in trouble. I heft the large binder , but can’t fathom what can possibly be in here to help me. She walks out of her small office and closes the door, leaving me alone.
Wow. Quiet. I take a deep breath in. I’m never alone. I’m still taken aback by how nice she acted toward me. I didn’t expect it. Aren’t they supposed to freak out on me for racking up statistics on teen pregnancy?
I know a few things already. One, my parents are going to absolutely freak out. They’ll freak out even more when I refuse to tell them who the father is. I won’t give up his secret. Well, he doesn’t even know he has a secret yet. I probably won’t tell him. What would be the point? I’d been the one to ask him, not the other way around. This is in no way his fault.
I know already I won’t have an abortion. I’ve spent too much time in church with my father for that. Shoot, I watched Juno. The baby has fingernails by now.
Having a baby a few months after graduating from high school is not a good way to start your adult life. I feel my heart lift a little. Maybe if I tell Lucas, he’ll come down and we’ll get married and buy a small house and…Right. My gut sinks. That’ll never happen.
I already know what I’m going to do. I knew when I first saw the second line on the pregnancy test. This baby isn’t mine but it can be somebody’s.
I re-shuffle my weight and put my feet on a nearby chair. I’m remembering now that last year a friend of mine told me that he was adopted. I have to remember who that person is. I’m suddenly mad at my over - cluttered brain for not guarding that info more carefully, then I laugh because even if I do remember, how do you bring that topic up in casual conversation?
My hand rests on my stomach. I expect to fee
l something, anything. Aside from throwing up, I don’t feel pregnant. Not that throwing up feels like a baby’s growing inside you. It just pretty much feels like you’re throwing up.
I sit in the nurse’s chair with my feet up for the last two periods of the day. It’s the longest stretch of peace I remember having in months. It’s kind of sad really, that telling the school nurse I’m pregnant leads me to the best couple hours I’ve had in a while. As I flip through the notebook I realize that I’ll have to find a way to get some vitamins, and I take an application for Medicare. I hope my parents won’t have to sign anything. Planned Parenthood is probably a good place to start.
When I close the binder when another irony of the situation hits me. My father has been cursing that organization since I can remember. The bell rings for the end of the day, and I step out of the nurse’s office, leaving the binder on the bookshelf.
“Thanks.” I wave.
“Here are some vitamins . S tart taking them now.” She hands me a plain white plastic bottle with no label . “Come back if you need anything , Dani.” She looks relaxed and her smile is warm, and incredibly, she’s not much bigger than me.
“’Kay.”
“Your parents know you were here for a headache. Use it and take some time for yourself this weekend okay?” She rubs her hand across my back a few times.
“Thanks, I’ll try.” No one who shares a room with Hannah can get a fair amount of peace.
~ ~ ~
Mom looks worried when I step inside the house. I take her suggestion and go straight to bed. When I throw up Saturday morning, she’s really worried. She keeps Hannah out of my room all day and leaves me alone. My weekend is positively blissful.
It takes a while, but I find my ear buds and listen to every CD Zack made for me. I pull out my camera and use the small viewfinder to flip through the photos I’ve taken recently.
My grandparents pick one kid each year for the “big” gift. This past Christmas was my year. They bought me a digital SLR camera. I love it. I take pictures for the school paper and the yearbook. It’s just one more thing that helps keep me sane.
On Sunday morning, everyone in my family heads over to the church, and I’m alone. I don’t remember ever being alone in our house before, at least not for longer than just a few minutes. I enjoy every single second.
~ ~ ~
On Monday morning I’m able to act like the good kid and say how important school is, and that I really need to be there. Mom looks proud. I arrive just in time to throw up in the nurse’s office before class starts. I wonder how long this will go on. I’m terrified enough about being pregnant already. I really could do without the early morning reminders.
“Stay after today!” Jill hollers down the hall at me just before sixth period. “We’re going to watch the game!”
I wave to show her that I’ll be there. We don’t stay to watch sports often, but we do sometimes. I have friends from honor society who play and like to go. My camera’s with me today, and I’m sure no one else from yearbook will be taking pictures. Besides, nothing can beat being at my house alone last weekend . I’m not anxious to go back there now that I’m “all better.”
~ ~ ~
Kristin sits to my left, and Jill’s next to her. I know one of the cheerleaders so we sit just a few rows off the floor so we can yell at all the right times. We have a good boys’ basketball team. There’s Michael who’s a really cute guy—dark hair, nice brown eyes. Tall. We’ve been friends for a while, but I’ve also had a bit of a crush on him since we were science partners last year.
John, Colin, Calvin and a few other guys are also on the team. They all hang out together, and they’re all really good. Surprisingly nice guys for jocks.
Michael’s having a great night. Nobody gets past him. I find myself watching him more than I should. He might be nice and say hi to me , but I’m not so dumb as to think I’m anywhere near his league. He could probably date just about anyone. He doesn’t though. I try to think back to a girlfriend he’s had , and I can’t think of anyone. He always seems to have a date to the dances, and he goes out a lot. It doesn’t really match up.
His eyes catch mine as he takes a seat on the bench . I t’s almost halftime, and it’s the first time he hasn’t been out on the court. He looks back over his shoulder and sees me looking at him again. I look away quickly, maybe he didn’t notice. But really, I already know he did. Oh well, I’m looking at everyone, right?
I watch the players on the court and the cheerleaders, making sure I don’t look at Michael anymore. At halftime they all get up and just before he goes around the corner to the locker rooms, our eyes meet again. Crap. Now he knows I’m watching him for sure. I decide to hide behind my camera for a while. It’s a lot easier to watch someone when I’m the one behind the lens.
Then it hits me. Michael’s the one who told me he was adopted. Wow. Relief. And then I realize I’ll have to try to find a way to not only talk with him, but get so deep into conversation that I can tell him I’m pregnant, and know he’s adopted. Yeah, right. I pick up my camera and spend the second half of the game on the floor taking pictures.
Jill gives me a ride home. The ride is near silent. Kristin and Jill are never silent. I almost ask, but am afraid to because after ditching them in the second half to sit on the floor, they’ve been weird.
~ ~ ~
“Dani!” Dad says as I come through the door. “How was the game?”
“We won.” I shrug. And I remembered which of my friends is adopted, so that’s cool.
“Well, your mom has had kind of a hard day. Maybe you could help her in the kitchen?” He gives me a pat on the back as I put my stuff away in the mudroom.
I shrug and wander in. I don’t mind helping with dinner. I’d way rather cook than clean up. Cooking is fun.
Mom and I work silently. We’ve cooked together for a lot of years. The smell of cilantro and jalapeno peppers stick to my fingers and I like it. I don’t give much thought to my mom being from Mexico because it doesn’t come up often. She’s always been too anxious to be American to make sure we understand what it is to be Mexican , but we all love the food. It’s the only time I feel the link.
We have enchiladas with rice, beans and my mom’s delicious green chili soufflé. We make one spicy for my parents and me, and the other one milder for my brothers and sisters. It’s just a night of the regular family bustling and eating, and I soak up every minute of it.
I forget I’m pregnant. I forget that I want to try to talk to Michael. I forget about Lucas and Zack and homework. I bring my hands to my face and inhale the smells of dinner. I look around at my siblings loading their plates around the table. This is when my family gets along; when we’re all stuffing our faces with the delicious things that come from Mom’s kitchen.
This is one part of my life that I don’t want to change, but I know it’s inevitable. Especially now.
4
“Have you told your parents yet?” Jill asks as we walk to the lunchroom together . She has her spiraled hair up high on her head today, making her even taller than normal. I suddenly feel like a midget.
I shake my head.
“Kristin and I were talking.” Jill looks uncomfortable, as if she’ll burst into flames if she holds still. The image distracts me for a moment.
“About?”
“Well, when your parents find out it’s not going to be good.” She looks half apologetic, but it seems forced, making me suspicious.
“Yeah. Thanks for that,” I say.
“You know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes. “I just, I’m worried about what my parents are going to think about you and me…you know, since we’re friends.”
“What? That you’ll accidentally get pregnant by hanging out with me?”
“No,” she snaps, obviously not in the mood for me to make her feel dumb. “It’s just that my parents are already strict and…”
Now I get it. She’s worried about what my pregnancy is going
to do to her social life. If I’m being honest with myself, which I don’t love to do, it hurts a little. “Whatever.” I shake my head and start to walk away. Better to distance myself from her and her non-existent social life before the news gets out.
“It’s not that we don’t like you,” Jill calls. “It’s just that—”
I spin around. “Why did you even invite me yesterday if you didn’t want to hang out with me anymore , huh?” Wow, I sounded forceful, powerful. Where did that come from?
My Forever (The Next Door Boys) Page 2