"Yeah, well, that's been going on for a week now, honey. You're retreating from badonkadonk to just donk again."
I laughed then at her joke, but fighting my way to my feet now, I'm worried.
We took precautions, right? I mean, I put the condom on him myself, didn't I? Sure, it was a bit old, but the latex wasn't crumbly or anything, and later on, when we fooled around again, we were careful not to let him put his cock inside me. Instead, he taught me how amazing a tongue can feel, and I'd shown him that all those hours practicing on a banana weren't wasted.
Don't think of bananas. Don't think of any food at all.
Shit. I can't handle this on my own, so I rinse my mouth out and leave the bathroom. I'm pissed at Troy for even considering Clement, not so much because of the football reasons. I kind of understand those. His goal is to get to the pros. I get that. But can't he play at State still? And why does he want to leave Silver Lake Falls so much? Doesn't he realize that this a town that I love?
I'm nearly crying now, and I turn the corner to go to the cheerleading room. I wasn't lying to Troy. Dani did ask me to come by to help out with making part of the big poster for the game, but that’s next period when we both have study hall. I just want to be alone for a bit.
I get to the room and open the door, surprised to find Dani and Pete Barkovich making out on the sofa. "Ahem."
Pete turns beet red while Dani adjusts her top, fixing a button and giving me a shrug. "Shoulda locked it, I guess. Sorry about that. We cool?"
I want to scream, but instead, I sigh and nod. "Yeah, it's cool. But Pete, do you mind? I need to chill out a bit."
Pete nods, and he nearly runs out of the room. I close the door and sit down on the sofa. Dani gives me a look.
"What happened?"
"Just . . . I stormed off on Troy, and for the stupidest reason."
"If you're going to cut the guy any slack, I'd say this is the day," Dani says, sitting next to me. "Rumor going around is that he was beaten like a dog when he left his house on Sunday morning."
"I know, you told me last night. Remember? I'm the one dating him?" I nearly yell, then take a deep breath. "Sorry, Dani. I'm just . . . emotional today. Must be my time of the month or something.”
"No, that was last week," Dani says, chuckling. "You and I are on almost identical cycles. So what did you blow up about?"
Last week? That doesn’t reassure my fears in the least. I could be a week late already. "Just . . . keep it quiet, please, Dani, but Troy's got a verbal offer of a scholarship."
"That's great!" Dani says, then sobers. "Where?"
"Clement University. In Los Angeles."
"And you're not going to Clement," Dani says, frowning. "That's a private school. The price tag for it is like mega-huge. You gotta be a trust funder or a super talent like Troy to afford that place. But it's not that bad. You guys can do the long distance thing, you know."
"I don't want to do the long distance thing!" I shout, and now I'm nearly crying. "I want Troy in my arms, or him holding me like we did at Homecoming! Not a thousand fucking miles away, surrounded by hot Hollywood starlets who'd fuck a guy like him at the drop of a hat!"
Dani sits quietly for a moment, then clears her throat. "You and I never talked about it, after Homecoming and all, but I assumed that you and Troy . . . you know?"
"We did," I say, and I feel like we're gossiping, although this time, the shoe is on the other foot. Dani's told me plenty about her adventures. "It was . . . magical."
"Yeah, I saw that the next night," Dani says. "Kinda a rule. If the first time is great with a guy, the girl's walking on cloud nine. If it sucks, she's not into him for a while afterward. And if it's really bad, she breaks up with him. You weren’t just on cloud nine. You were looking like you were still in the middle of it."
"I felt that way," I agreed. "So why do I feel like such shit now, and I snap at him?"
Dani doesn't say anything, but instead reaches over to her backpack and unzips it. "Here. The clinic can give you tests and even counseling if you want. They're anonymous, too. They don't take any information down at all unless you go in for birth control pills or a Plan B pill."
I take the card she's holding out, looking down at the address and phone number with no other information. "Dani . . .”
"Better to know than to keep yourself in doubt. Because I can read it in your eyes, Whit. You're scared and you need to know."
I can't hold it back anymore and start crying. I've been doing that a lot recently too, I noticed, and Dani holds me, patting my hair. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here, and I love ya."
We stay that way for a while until my crying jag passes and I let go of her. "Thanks, Dani."
"It's what friends are for. Besides, you got leverage on me now."
"What, you and Pete Barkovich?" I say, laughing. "Dani, he may not be your type, but he's a nice guy. And to let you in on a secret, he's had a crush on you since freshman year. I knew that when he and I shared a few classes."
"Oh, I knew that. Actually, I was talking about hooking up with him back here. Major no-no, and I could lose my spot on the team for it."
I shake my head and give Dani a hug. "Are you nuts? Lose the captain of the cheerleading squad? I'd have to be all sorts of stupid to do that to my best friend."
I stare at the box, which is plain white and about the size of a glasses case, afraid to do what I know I need to do. Since Dani and I finished our conversation, I'd been unable to think about anything else, and even during cheerleading practice, I couldn't focus. Dani cut me a lot of slack, though, and the other girls too. Dani did it because she knew what I was really thinking, and the other girls did it because they thought I was focused on Troy.
Well, I guess I am focused on Troy, just in a different way. I couldn't deal with trying to see him as the rest of the team went out to practice, Troy not dressed except in a t-shirt and team shorts. Coach Jackson had Troy just watch, do some laps and stretch, trying to relieve the bruising and beating he'd taken. Even in my state of disarray, I gasp seeing him from a distance, the way his legs and his back are bruised up.
Now I'm standing here in the bathroom, looking at the little box, and I'm more scared than I've been at any time in my life. I close my eyes and take the plunge, tearing open the box. There's a little thing that looks like a whiteboard marker with a window in the side, and a single instruction sheet.
"Uncap device, hold in urine stream or in cup of fresh urine until testing device is fully wet. Cap and wait one minute. Plus sign confirms pregnancy, minus means no pregnancy. If there is no indication at all in the window, the device may be faulty, or you are too hydrated. Wait and try again with a new device and when your urine stream is not as clear."
Well, you had some water at practice, but you're not exactly swimming. I guess if it's yellow, you're good to go. Might as well get to work.
I squat over the toilet and do what I need to do, capping the test and counting to one hundred, just to be sure. I'm just turning the device over when Mom opens the door of the bathroom. "Oh, sorry, Whitney. I thought that . . .”
Mom goes silent, seeing what's in my hand. She looks at me, then at my hands again, and takes a deep breath. "Well?"
I turn the test over, and my heart drops into my feet. A plus sign. "It's a plus."
"I thought . . . Whitney, after all I've told you about what I had to go through . . . what were you thinking?" Mom says, her voice rising into a yell. "It's that Troy Wood, isn't it? That playboy bastard!"
I'm nodding and crying at the same time, and I push past her to go into my bedroom, where I throw myself on the bed, sobbing. I don’t need this shit right now. It's my senior year, I've got a great social life going and an awesome boyfriend, and it's not even Thanksgiving yet!
I'm still sobbing when there's a quiet knock on my door. "Go away, Mom! You made your point clear!"
"Actually, honey, I came to apologize," Mom says, coming in and sitting next to me. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so s
orry I yelled at you. I know you must be an emotional mess right now.”
"We were careful, Mom," I sob, half blubbering, I know, but not able to do more. "We were careful. He wore a condom, and we never . . . ah, gah!" I can't make any more sense, and I just bury my face in my pillow. Maybe I can suffocate myself that way. I think I've seen it in a movie once.
Mom sits quietly, stroking my hair, saying nothing while I sob. When it passes, I feel a little bit better. Life still is unfair and sucks, but I'm not going to die, am I? I mean, look at Mom. She got pregnant in high school too, and she made a great life for me. Well, until I went and fucked it up, but she did a lot for me. I turned over and sniffled, wiping at my nose. "Mom . . .”
"No, honey, you don't need to apologize," Mom says, leaning down and kissing my forehead. "We do need to have a serious discussion though. Actually, you and Troy need to have a serious discussion."
"I can't, Mom!" I say, suddenly afraid. "Mom, if I tell him, it ruins his life!"
"Whitney Nicole Nelson, you’d better start talking sense. Or else I'm going to go over to the Wood house and get some answers from Troy and his parents."
"Mom, that's the thing, though. Troy . . . he's been getting beaten by his dad for years, and yesterday, he nearly got put in the hospital. His mom left . . . years ago, I don't know when. But he's got a bright future, Mom. He wants to get out of Silver Lake Falls, and he's got a scholarship to college. He’s on his way to his dream of going to the NFL. If he knows I'm pregnant, it’ll ruin his whole life."
Mom swallows and looks at me. "He got you pregnant, Whitney. He needs to take responsibility for his actions. And if he’s a half-decent human being, he’ll want to know.”
"Mom, it's my body. Isn't that what you keep telling me?" I plead, begging. "If I tell Troy, he's going to quit football and not go to college. He’ll get a job trying to take care of the baby, and that’ll ruin him—it’ll kill him. Worst of all, Mom, it’ll ruin the love we have, because he’ll come to resent me. I know it, Mom. I . . . I love him too much to ruin him like that."
Mom sits quietly, then sighs. "So what do you want to do? Whitney, you're only a few weeks pregnant, and I still want to talk to Dani Vaughn. I suspect I can even put a date of conception based off the now obvious lie you two cooked up . . . but that's for another time. It's only October. Graduation in June is a long way off, and no matter what, you're going to be showing by Spring Break at the latest. If you're like me, you're going to show a lot earlier than that. You can't hide a pregnancy from Troy until June."
I nod, then swallow. "I need to leave, then."
"That'll hurt Troy too, you know," Mom says, not unkindly. "If he loves you the way that you're saying you love him, you're going to break his heart."
"I'd rather break his heart that break his future," I whisper, looking out. "Besides, who says that, maybe after the baby is born, I couldn’t come back, you know?"
"That's a lot to talk about, Whitney," Mom says, stroking my hair. "I disagree with your thinking, but you’re eighteen and an adult. I’ll support you on whatever you decide.”
"Thanks, Mom. I . . . I'm sorry."
Mom shakes her head and kisses me on the forehead, like she did when I was little and she was comforting me after a boo-boo. "You don't have to apologize for anything, honey. I love you with all my heart."
Chapter 10
Troy
I thought the days before my first date with Whitney were hard, but they're nothing compared to the past week and a half. Coach not only kept me on the bench for the game against Hartsville, but he didn't even let me dress. I had to sit in my jeans and jersey watching as Roberts tried his best at QB, and Gabe pulled double duty, trying to fill in as linebacker, but it didn't matter. Hartsville's the sort of town that breeds one thing: nasty, tough as nails country boys who scrap and fight. They mauled the team and sent us to our first loss of the season. With only two weeks left in the season, we're now tied for first place.
The season comes down to this next game. The Sounders are the biggest school in our conference, only kept in our level of play because of geography. They routinely field teams that had ten or even twenty more players than the rest of our conference, and we haven't beaten them in years. Now, with one conference loss to our record, it comes down to the the Silver Lake Foxes against the Northern Sounders. If we win, we have the edge in the head-to-head matchup, and win the conference championship, and gain the home field advantage up through the entire playoffs until the state championship. If we lose, we're third, because Hartsville's going to have the edge on us, and we're totally out of the playoffs. Sure, we could blow it in the last week against Carlisle, but so far this year, they haven't won a single game.
So I have stress on me from that. Then there's Dad. The cops booked him on an assault charge, and he's being kept without bail in the county jail. He's not fighting it so far. I think he wants the free food and lodging, but that means I'm on my own. I'm eighteen, so child welfare doesn't concern itself with me, and with all the attention on me, I can't work my after school job either. The owner gave me a call and explained himself, but basically, he said until the season is over, I'm out of work. At least the landlord of the house came by, and he said not to worry about rent. Still, I don't know what's going to happen there.
Then there's Whitney. After my comments the week of the Hartsville game, I've tried over and over to make it up to her, but things are strained. It's painful, even more painful than my slowly healing legs, to be barely speaking to each other. We still eat lunch together, but there's a tension there that we didn't have before, and I don't know why. I try to talk to her, but it's just a series of short questions and answers until the lunch period ends, and then we're off on our different schedules.
Now, it's Thursday night, and I'm back where I am every Thursday before a home game, sitting in the stands and looking over my sanctuary. Cory's sitting with me after everyone else has gone for the night. The air's chilly, and it won't be long before we start wearing tights under our uniforms for these night games.
"You're pretty quiet, bro."
I nod and pick at the concrete under my bleacher. "Yeah. Just getting my head right. It's harder this week, with all that's going on."
"Yeah, I guess it would be," Cory says, leaning back. "The guys are worried about it. I mean, we know why you've been a step slow in practice—you still look pretty ugly. Not that you didn't before, you know, just it's a more multicolored ugly now."
I laugh lightly, not because I'm actually amused but because I know Cory expects something. Still, he can hear it, and he falls quiet too. "Just . . . I don't know, man, maybe I am whipped. It hurts, that's all."
Cory nods. "You wanna know a secret? I've spent the past seven weeks jealous of you, actually. I mean, it's fun getting more ass than a toilet seat, but to see what you and Whitney have . . . it gets a guy to start thinking that maybe I need to look at changing."
“Really? I guess I should call you full of shit, but then again, I would’ve said the same thing about me not too long ago."
"Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to stop enjoying myself," Cory says with a laugh, "but I’m saying that if a girl I really like comes my way, well, I can see why you've changed, that's all. But tomorrow night, I hope that the Troy I saw at Homecoming shows up. Hey, change of subject—you hear from any schools yet? Rumor going around is Clement's interested in you.”
"That's what they said, but they didn't call last week like they said they would. Maybe because of me being hurt, maybe because they had a tough game with late TV, I don't know. I’ve just gotta step up tomorrow."
Cory slaps the stands powerfully, happy. "That's the Troy I know. I remember what my dad told me one time, right after my grandfather died. He put in a DVD of Bruce Lee's old movie, Enter The Dragon. You seen it?"
I roll my eyes. “I think everyone's seen it," I say, knowing where Cory is going.
"Then you know what I'm talking about, right? We need emotional content
. So when you step on the field tomorrow, you put everything out there. Your pain, the bad feelings because of your dad, and yeah, I'm gonna go there, your love of Whitney. And don't bullshit me, I know you do. Take it all, and leave it out there tomorrow. You do that, and we'll be fine."
"Is that what you do?"
Cory laughs and shakes his head. "Me? You need to check who you're talking to. I don't have enough emotionally going on in my life to last me through the first quarter. I play for the same reason I always have. To crack some heads and to get the girls.”
"You're never going to change, Cory. You know that?"
Cory laughs again and slaps my knee. "I know that, bro. I know that."
I'm nervous, as for the first time ever, I don't feel settled as I walk through my individual warmups and stretches before the game. The sun's nearly down already, the lights are on, and my uniform fits right. But there's still something wrong, and I know what it is. My heart's not in the game.
Suddenly, I hear Whitney behind me. "Troy."
I turn around, and I see her. She's in her uniform, like the other girls, but there's still something different about her. She's still so beautiful, though, that I want to pull her close, but I'm afraid. I don't want to screw up again, like last time. "Whitney. I . . . I thought you wouldn't talk to me before the game. I missed your note."
Whitney gives me a ghost of a smile and reaches into the waistband of her uniform, pulling out a square of folded up notebook paper. "Never. I know things aren't perfect between us, and I'm sorry. It's been mostly my fault."
"No it hasn't," I say, stepping closer. "When I said I want to forget Silver Lake Falls, that doesn't mean you. I know it sounds stupid, but when I've been studying at home, all I can see is us. You're too special to lose."
Whitney blinks and looks up to the night sky, and I think she's about to cry. Instead, she steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. "I love you so much, Troy, and I'm so sorry I screwed the past few weeks up."
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