Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1)

by Sc Montgomery

  “You still have this?” He lifted it with a half-smile.

  “Sure.”

  “That was a crazy one, huh?”

  I looked closer at the picture of us grinning like loons over the simple white cross at the site where we’d started our adventure that summer. Finding Lettie’s bones—finding out she was a hero—changed my life in so many ways. “Sure was.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Shitload of fun, though.”

  It felt good to laugh along with him for what felt like the first time in days. “Yup. It was.”

  But the laughter quickly faded when the doorbell rang, and a moment later my mom called out, “Reed! Melissa and her parents are here!”

  June 13th

  The cat’s out of the bag. Mom found me puking this morning and finally figured it out. She’s pissed and hurt and barely speaking to me.

  I’m glad she didn’t ask too many questions and assumed this baby is Reed’s. It’s gotta be! I refuse to think anything else. But I feel like such a dirty liar. A frightened child.

  It’s bad enough I can’t speak the truth because I’m so afraid . . . what if it really is HIS baby?

  Papa Don’t Preach

  My eyes swung to Jonah as my stomach found itself in my mouth. I felt myself choking on a sudden case of nerves as adrenalin flooded my body painfully. Melissa was here? With her parents? Oh, shit.

  My heart began to pound against my ribs in an erratic rhythm, fast enough to rival any thrash metal album on my shelf.

  My palms started to sweat.

  My vision tunneled as the room darkened to a pinpoint.

  Shit.

  Jonah scrambled to his feet, his eyes bugging. “Dude, you okay?”

  Okay? Was I okay? I clutched at the comforter on my bed. “No,” I managed in a wheeze.

  “Reed!” my mom hollered again. “Get out here.”

  Jonah’s eyes darted between me and the door. He must’ve decided I was going to live. “Guess I gotta go.” He took a step away, his expression showing obvious relief he was not the one in my shoes. “Sorry, man.” He turned and fled as quickly as his Nike Air Jordans would carry his sorry ass. Some friend.

  I gulped a few breaths of air with my head in my hands.

  “Reed?”

  I glanced up at Melissa’s soft voice. “Mel.”

  “Hey.” She walked in and sat beside me, gripping my hand with her icy cold fingers.

  I didn’t look her in the face. I couldn’t. I was a coward. I stared down at our joined hands as she rubbed her thumb along my knuckles; back and forth like she was trying to soothe me. Finally, I swallowed. “They know.” It wasn’t a question.

  I felt her nod. “I had to tell my mom when she found me puking this morning.” I heard the embarrassment in her voice. “Same as every other morning for the past week.”

  I finally met her gaze. Red-rimmed, tear-swollen eyes met mine. “How’d it go? When you told her, I mean.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “About like you’d expect. She freaked.” It about killed me when she hung her head in shame. “But don’t worry. They haven’t said anything to your parents yet. I know we said we’d do that together.” Man, now I felt like an even bigger coward.

  Something deep inside me—so deep I don’t know where it came from—bubbled up to the surface. I may not like this thing, and I definitely wasn’t sure about it, but it was time to man up. Or at least fake the shit out of it.

  I studied her sweet, troubled face. The face I loved, and had for the past three years. I leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips, swallowing her surprised gasp. “Okay.” I stood, tugging her hand. “Let’s go.”

  My little sister, Izzie, was dismissed to her room—thank God—so I didn’t have to listen to any of her stupid questions about how the baby was made or if she was going to get to hold it.

  But, as we sat there with our parents’ eyes trained on us, the news heavy in the air, the thunderous silence reigned supreme for several moments and I wished my sister had been allowed to stay. Heck, I even kinda wished Mel’s brother was there . . . anything to take the edge off.

  Melissa’s parents alternated between looks of disappointment, anger, and general disgust, even though they already knew. It must have been crushing to hear it spelled out again . . . no denying it. Plus, I’m sure it killed them that Mel refused to sit by them. Instead, she clung to my side, her hand gripping mine like a lifeline, her eyes glued to the carpet as though denying anyone eye contact would somehow change the seriousness of the situation.

  My mom just stared at me with tears streaking down her cheeks. I’d expected her crying and disappointment. She’d been on me about getting a summer job and was nagging me constantly about keeping my grades up so I’d get into a good college.

  I knew Melissa’s parents would hate me. Especially her father.

  But it was my dad . . . oh, God . . . I found the most recrimination from him and it cut me to the quick. His steely gaze tore through my newfound manhood as I tried to hold Melissa up and show that I intended to make this right. Whatever the hell that meant.

  Still, I couldn’t help but wonder, where was my Lego fort buddy? The guy who’d taught me to change oil, to shave, the love of comic book collecting? Who I’d emulated since I was three. I thought our bond was unshakable. Guess I was wrong.

  There’d been one hundred and one questions . . .

  Are you kids planning on keeping this baby?

  Surely you don’t expect us to raise it while you get to run around having a normal life?

  You do plan on getting a job, don’t you?

  What about school?

  God, Reed, we thought you were smarter than this! What were you thinking?

  Aren’t you at least considering adoption?

  What about . . . abortion?

  On that whispered question—from her own mother’s mouth—Melissa jumped up and faced down all four parents. “Enough! No, I’m not having an abortion. And, no, I’m not putting this baby up for adoption.” She sucked in a wobbly breath as tears began to course down her cheeks. She swiped them away angrily. “You—” She pointed at her mother. “You of all people should understand.”

  I stood to try and do something, though I had no idea what, but she ignored me.

  “I’m keeping this baby.” She glanced at me. “We’re keeping this baby. And you can love us and support us, or not. The choice is yours. But we’ll find a way.” She spun and stormed away like an angry hurricane.

  I glanced once more at my mom, who offered me a small smile of support, before I followed Melissa out, hoping like hell she was right.

  “Just get me out of here!” Mel’s voice was like a war cry, loud, but tinged with fear. I couldn’t blame her, we were in the battle of our lives.

  She slammed out the front door, heading for my car without looking to see if I was following. She probably knew me well enough to know I’d do anything for my dark-eyed girl. My true best friend. God, how I missed laughing with her like we used to.

  I patted my pockets, grateful I had my keys, and rushed to let her in the car. We took off into the descending darkness, letting it enfold us as we drove further and further away from our parents’ disappointment and tears.

  I gripped her hand, flicked her a worried glance. “You okay?”

  Her eyes stayed trained out the windshield. “Yeah.”

  “Where do you wanna go?”

  “Anywhere but there.”

  I nodded, though I knew she couldn’t see me, and turned onto Lamar. Headed toward nowhere.

  I think we both just needed time. But could time ever heal this wound? I wasn’t so sure.

  “Mel?” I finally said after we’d been driving a while.

  She shifted and faced me, her eyes boring into me. I hated that her wide, honest eyes seemed clouded now; miserable.

  I glanced at her and slowed to allow a fire truck to pass. Once its blaring lights were a blur in the distance, I caught her gaze in the dark interio
r. “You’re sure, right?” I swallowed, wishing I could find the strength to argue. Just not tonight. “I mean . . . we’re sure?”

  She blinked at me, her voice strangely unconvincing, “Yes. I’m sure.”

  June 13th Continued

  Yeah, so we told all the parents tonight. A-W-F-U-L.

  You’d think we told them we were mass murderers or something with the way they stared at us in horror, pounding us with a million questions. Not what I needed.

  And, let me say, we were not prepared for the interrogation. I mean, seriously, Reed and I have only scratched the surface of this whole problem. Like, I dunno, dealt with the fact that there is a real live baby in my belly. God, what if they knew the whole truth? What if I’m torturing Reed and his family for nothing? I almost puked all over everyone.

  But it was my mom who hurt me the most. Abortion? Adoption? Really? My own mother? But I guess she’s never really been able to understand how I feel. I mean, how could she?

  She came to my room when we got home and tried to talk to me. Tried to explain that she only wanted what’s best for me. I know in her mind, that’s true. Doesn’t she see I want that for this baby, too? She made her choices, I need to make mine. I’m trying to be strong, hope for the best, find love for this baby, no matter its DNA. I hope she gets it eventually. I know she would’ve never given up Chris. Ever.

  Chris, in all his perfectness. How can I compete with that? Don’t get me wrong, he’s great. But he’s theirs. He fulfilled every wish they had, while I was the consolation prize.

  I’m nobody’s first choice. Except Reed’s.

  I hate that I can’t be honest with him. He deserves better. But I’ve got this mind-numbing fear looming over my head, and I think if I stay quiet, it’ll all be OK. At least for a while. Right?

  Man, I wish I could be strong like those girls on TV, who stand up for what’s right. But I’m too weak, too frightened. I need Reed by my side during this. Though my lies may ruin everything, I just can’t give it all up. Not yet.

  I love Reed. I love him, I love him, I love him. But I feel my soul-eating shame hovering over us, waiting to end everything with every division of this baby’s cells.

  The Imposter Peanut

  A crazy, miserable week passed, with my anxiety notching up and Mel’s hurling reaching epic proportions. Thank God it was time for her first doctor’s appointment . . . though it was almost as if she was punishing her mother for even suggesting an abortion, and she adamantly refused to have anyone there but me.

  We’d done better at talking about the whole “we’re pregnant” thing that week, but not by much. Well, if ‘better’ meant one argument, one failed make-out session (I was beginning to really hate pregnancy) and a whole lot of me not being sure. But she was apparently sure enough for the both of us, so I was trying to bank on that.

  A faint, familiar oily smell filled the car as we passed the conglomeration of refineries that skirted our town on one end, one of them being Dow Chemical where my dad worked. Mel scooted down in her seat and shifted her gaze out the passenger window to the network of marshy waterways that snaked around the land like veins. This was what made up where we lived; what so many people wanted to escape from. The juxtaposition. But it was home to us.

  We moved on to the interstate and passed Jonah’s neighborhood of older homes. Their beachy colors of coral and turquoise, yellow and peach, faded into muted versions of themselves. Their pilings even looked tired.

  We zipped past Nunez’s Fruit Stand. Surf ‘N Sun Souvenir Shop. The train yard. St. Michael’s Catholic Church. I think Mel saw their sign at the same time I did:

  St. Gabriel Project—Pregnant? Need Help? Call Us.

  She sighed and I glanced over. “You okay?”

  She nodded but didn’t say anything.

  I didn’t push her and we drove in silence the rest of the way to Brazosport Regional.

  Dr. Foster’s office was connected to the hospital, with a lab right next door. Melissa led me to the lab first, where they drew her blood and said the results would be available in a few minutes. Then we went to the doctor’s. As we sat in the brightly lit waiting room, I totally felt like the kid I still was. I was the only guy in a room full of women, and Melissa was by far the youngest one there. Huge pregnant bellies surrounded me, and I wondered if Mel’s stomach would swell to that size. Holy shit! Didn’t that hurt?

  I tried to divert my eyes to the pamphlets lining the walls, but things like postpartum depression, IUDs, and sexually transmitted diseases just made my stomach clench more. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans and focused on the floor as Mel finished her mounds and mounds of paperwork and gave the lady at the desk her dad’s insurance card.

  Finally, after we waited about four hours—okay, maybe it only seemed that long being surrounded by pregnant women who I was sure were judging me for knocking up my teenage girlfriend—we were called back by a middle-aged nurse in bright pink scrubs dotted with rubber ducks.

  “Okay, Ms. Summers,” she said, pointing Mel to a small bathroom. “I’ll need a urine sample first. Then we’ll get your weight and some vitals.”

  I waited outside, avoiding the nurse’s gaze, while Melissa did her thing. Then the nurse took us to a sterile room with all kinds of scary looking medical equipment, and we took a seat to wait. Again.

  My heart pounded in my throat. This was so not supposed to be happening. Teen pregnancy = mistake. I thought I was going to puke.

  Mel must’ve sensed my impending panic because she reached over and gripped my hand. “It’s okay, Reed.”

  I looked at her. “I’m sorry. All this doctor stuff just makes me really nervous.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  We were interrupted when the gray-haired doctor with wire-rimmed glasses and an easy smile breezed into the room. “Hi. You must be Melissa.” She smiled at him, then he reached out for my hand. “And you are?”

  I swallowed and accepted his handshake. “Reed. Reed Young, sir.”

  “The father?”

  The father? The father . . . yes, of course, dummy. “Um, yes.”

  “Great.” He sat on his stool and flipped through the chart in his hand. “So, it looks here by your blood work and last menstrual period that you’re probably about eight to ten weeks along . . .”

  My head began to buzz and I had a hard time focusing as I thought back eight to ten weeks. Was it Easter weekend that we forgot the dumb condom? What night had we made this baby? What moment had irrevocably changed our lives forever?

  I tried to listen as he examined her and explained things about the pregnancy and how to care for herself, but I was lost.

  “How about a quick ultrasound?” he asked, his voice soothing, kinda like I remembered my grandpa’s.

  Mel nodded, but I was still oblivious. But they didn’t seem to be paying me much mind anyway.

  “All right, I’ll be right back.” He stepped out for a moment and the nurse came in quietly to help Mel with a sheet over her legs. It all happened so fast, I wasn’t sure what was going on.

  Until the doc came back and put Mel’s feet up in some big metal foot holder things and pulled out an ultrasound machine.

  Melissa automatically reached over and grabbed my hand. I intertwined our fingers and squeezed.

  The doctor smiled as he explained what he was doing and . . . what? He was gonna put it where? Oh, God. I had to look away until it was all clear. “We won’t see much now, but we should be able to see your baby’s heart beating.”

  My own heart began thudding crazily as the black and white fuzzy images swirled on the small screen.

  “Oh, my God.” Mel’s whisper carried in the air like an epiphany.

  And it was.

  The doctor pointed at a small pulsating blob on the screen. “There it is.”

  It looked like a peanut.

  A living peanut. The constant, rhythmic bomp, bomp, bomp of its heartbeat pulsed through the screen. That was our baby. That was life.
/>
  Oh, shit. It was real.

  June 18th

  The week since Reed and I told our parents about the baby has passed in a blur. Mom still gives me weird looks when I come out of the bathroom from hurling up my toenails, but doesn’t say much. Neither does my dad. Which is totally fine by me. I don’t want to discuss anything right now. Not until they quit looking at me like I have the Black Plague.

  But today was OB visit day, and it would’ve been nice to be able to talk to my mom about all this girly stuff. My BFF, Roxanne, is only so much help since she’s a virgin, but she says her older sister went to Dr. Foster when she had her kid. Apparently, he’s pretty nice for an older guy. I was only slightly relieved to hear this. A. Because he’s old. B. Because he’s nice. But, he still looked at my hoo-ha. Weird.

  I also apologized to Roxie that I hadn’t been spending any time with her lately, but she said she totally understood. Boyfriend. Baby. She gets it. She’ll get with me when there’s time. Maybe when the kid’s in kindergarten. We laughed about that, at least until I realized my kid would actually be in kindergarten someday.

  So, anyway, I got my official due date of January 20th.

  I’m still scrambling to do the math in my head, but I’m just not sure. Before the visit, I’d Googled fertility and menstrual cycles, trying to figure out the chances it was Reed’s. Not helpful since my periods are irregular. Then, unable to help myself, late last night, I also tried to research genetics. What could be looming in this baby’s chromosomes? No idea.

  I have to say, Reed was super sweet during the appointment and held my hand as we saw the baby’s heart beating for the first time. He looked about as shell-shocked as I felt.

  We talked about it all down by the pier tonight. He mentioned getting a job, which is smart. I wish I could do the same, but I’m not sure what I could do with all this pukiness. Luckily, I’ve got some babysitting money saved up, though I’ve had to cut back on helping with the neighbor kids because of how crappy I feel. I’ve been so miserable, it makes me feel useless.