Plus One

by Sarah L. Young

  "Not just the baby, though," she warned me. "I mean, the big problems will be for the baby of course, but you also need to keep your strength up. You need to remember, and I know that this sounds totally clichéd and all, but you really are eating for two right now. Of course, it's not actually two people. Not really, I mean. It's more the fact that you need more calories because your baby is using you and everything that you eat to grow. So, you're eating more to make up for all of the energy that your baby is using." I nodded along. The nurse had already told me all of this. "So, I'll write you a pass to the hall monitor so that you can go on to lunch and then from there you'll go on to whatever class you have next. Sound good?" I nodded, way beyond ready to leave. She scribbled something down in her book of passes, ripped out a sheet, and then handed it to me.

  I took the sheet and, waving goodbye to my guidance counselor and her secretary, exited out into the hallway. I turned at the corner and walked toward the cafeteria, showing my note to the hall monitor when he stopped me and asked for it. From there I continued down to the cafeteria. I didn't regularly have lunch that period, so I didn't know who I would be able to find to sit with. I walked into the cafeteria and glanced around nervously. It seriously felt like it was my first day of school all over again. I couldn't find anyone that I was friends with, so I ended up sitting next to a group of sophomores who I had gym class with.

  "Hey Lexi," one of them called as I sat down at the table. "I didn't know that you have lunch this period, why don't we ever see you?" she asked me. She looked at me expectantly while I thought of something to say. Anything other than the truth, that I had spent all day switching between the nurse's office and my guidance counselor's office because I'd gone and gotten myself knocked up.

  "Uh, I had a band lesson during my actual lunch period," I told her. I hoped that she wouldn't notice that I hadn't been in band since the sixth grade. "Also, I had a study hall right now, so I don't have anywhere else to be and the teacher who runs the study hall doesn't let us eat in there. Is it okay if I sit here?" I asked the group timidly.

  "Yeah," they all chimed, one right after the other. I took my seat right at the edge of the table, hoping to eat my lunch in peace and then scurry off to class for the last few minutes of math so I could at least get the homework. As it turned out, these sophomore girls had other plans in mind.

  "So," another one of them said. "Which colleges are you looking at?" They all stared at me expectantly, patiently awaiting my answer. My mouth was full of peanut butter and jelly, so at least I had a moment to think while I finished chewing and took a sip from my water bottle.

  "I haven't really thought about it all that much," I lied. I didn't want to talk. That, and these girls looked preppy and I assumed that they would look down on my choice of community college followed by the local state school. Then again, could I even go to school once I'd had the baby? Could I graduate from high school? And would I have enough time to go to college after that? Suddenly I realized everything that the nurse, the guidance counselor, and Emily had been talking about. What was I going to miss out on by having a baby? All the sudden I felt very nauseous, and the conversation going on at the table around me wasn't helping much.

  "Oh, I thought that you were a junior," one of the girls remarked snidely. "I'm only a sophomore and I already have a list," she told us proudly. "I'm going to apply to all of the Ivy League schools, of course, and then I'll apply to Vassar where I'm a legacy, Stanford, and maybe one or two others." I shifted my gaze uncomfortably to the window. These girls were not my type of people at all, but for once I actually envied them—their confidence, their clarity, their wealth, probably.

  "I'm not applying to all of the Ivy League schools," another one of the girls said. "Yale is way too preppy for me." Oh, give me a break, I thought to myself. I pushed the rest of my sandwich into my mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed as I stood up to leave.

  "Hey, where are you going?" the Yale is way too preppy for me girl asked. I checked my watch. Not even five minutes had passed since I'd sat down at their table.

  "Oh," I said, trying my very hardest to stall until I could come up with some sort of answer. "Well, I have some homework that I need to get to before next period, so I figured that I'd head back to my study hall and then finish that up before class starts." They all nodded understandingly as I headed off quickly into the hallway and toward math class, anxious to regain some semblance of normalcy.

  In the hallway I was met by my French teacher. Suddenly I recalled our meeting in the same hallway from that morning, when she had reminded me of the quiz. The quiz that I had missed because of the nurse and the guidance counselor. I so didn't feel like talking, especially not in French, but I knew from the look in her eyes that she was about to corner me and then pounce.

  "Bonjour, Lexi," she said, standing in front of me and blocking my passage to the staircase that would have led me down to sanctuary in my math classroom. I had gotten so close, yet I was still so far away. "Lexi, pourquoi tu n'étais pas en classe aujourd'hui?" I tried as best as I could to understand her, but I didn't.

  "Please," I pleaded with her. "I know that you're a French teacher, and that I'm doing badly in your class, but I'm having probably the worst day of my life right now. I missed class today because I spent the entire morning in the guidance counselor's office. So, I'm sorry that I missed class and that I didn't tell you, but to be fair, I also missed all my other classes so far today. And besides, didn't Mrs. DeVito call you to let you know that I wouldn't be in class?"

  "I would prefer it," she snarled nastily. "If you didn't skip my class when there's a quiz. Especially not when you're failing the course. That's all. I'll see you after school to make up for the quiz that you missed and to give you all of the notes from the day as well as tonight's homework." I nodded and walked around her and over to the staircase where I fled down the stairs. I didn't care what she said, I wasn't going to be coming to her class anytime soon. French was pointless, and besides that, she was mean, so I didn't feel like spending any more time with her than was absolutely required of me.

  Once in the downstairs hallway of the school, I heard the bell ring. I ran to math, dead-set on keeping up with the rest of my classes. I fought the crowds of kids heading to their next class. I used my elbows to push my way through the hall and realized that this must be what the expression "swimming upstream" meant. After a moment or two the congestion in the hallway had cleared up enough for me to make my way to my pre-calculus teacher's classroom. I opened the door and fell into a chair, exhausted from the day and from fighting my way to class.

  "Hey," my teacher greeted me. I was happy that he wasn't mad that I had missed his class, but I didn't think that he would be. He wasn't the sort of teacher to get upset over things like that, especially with me. I was a natural at math and picked things up quickly, so I was one of his favorite kids. "The nurse called me," he continued, looking concerned. "Is everything okay?" I sensed genuine concern in his voice and saw it on his face. This teacher really was one of the good ones.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied to him. "We were getting some things squared away. I had a few questions for her, and I didn't realize that it would take all period. Sorry about that."

  "No, don't be sorry!" he said smiling. "Your health comes before everything else. You can't do math when you keel over. And besides, we didn't do much today except for review the quiz that we have tomorrow, and you're a rockstar at the unit. I'm sure you'll be fine. Don't worry about it. And there wasn't any homework other than to study for tomorrow's quiz. Why don't you head off to your next class so that you don't miss anything else today?" I nodded and headed toward the door. "See ya later, super star," he called after me.

  I was glad that he was so understanding, even if he didn't fully understand everything that was going on. He and I had always had a special bond where he looked out for me and treated me like his favorite. It was weird sometimes, especially when other people noticed—and especially when they sa
id things—but I knew he was harmless.

  I headed back to the stairs and continued on my way to biology. I walked into the room right as the bell rang. I hurried over to my seat and sat down before the teacher could notice that I was late. I pulled my binder out of my bag and turned to the previous night's homework so that I could at least get one good grade in for the day. The teacher came around to see who had and who hadn't completed the homework assignment and I finally was able to catch my breath after she passed by my table.

  "You okay?" my lab partner Jeff asked me. "You weren't in math earlier. I thought you were dead." I laughed a little bit too hard for this joke.

  "Yup, I was dead," I said back to him. "I'm a zombie." I giggled. Jeff and I always had a nice back and forth going. He had been a very serious and shy kid when he was little. Since getting to the high school, he'd started getting very sarcastic. It wasn't in a bad way—he was still as polite, sensitive, and thoughtful as always. It was just that he was now always able to make me laugh. I was happy that we had been able to get so close over the years.

  "Okay," he said. "It's fine that you're a zombie. I'm all for inclusion and diversity and all that good stuff but keep your decaying mitts off my brain! I need every last ounce of brain power that I've got saved up for that pre-calc quiz tomorrow. You hear me? No brains for you!" he shouted, doing an impression of the Seinfeld character. I laughed and was about to turn back to my notebook when he started his next joke.

  "Hey, what do vegetarian zombies eat?" he asked me. I shrugged, so he answered. "Graaaaaiiiinnnns!" he shouted, with his arms outstretched like a zombie's arms. I couldn't help but groan. It was funny, but in the same lame way that dad humor was funny. It was so bad that it was funny.

  "That's enough, funny boy," I warned him. "We should probably get ready for class." He nodded his agreement and we busied ourselves with the problems on the board. For a few minutes I had forgotten about everything. I was a normal kid, making crappy jokes with my friend. And then the moment passed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Emily

  I finally broke down and called my mom at three that afternoon, asking her to get someone to cover her shift at the factory so she could come home and take care of me. It's not that I was actually sick, I needed someone to be there for me and Lexi couldn't be there for me, because I needed to be there for her. And so, lame as it was, I called my mom.

  I dialed the phone number, which I'd had memorized since I was only about eight years old, and I waited as the dial tone rang once, twice, and another half of a time before my mom finally decided to pick up the phone. I knew she was on break; if she worked the first two shifts, she had a break at eleven, and if she worked the second two she had a break at three. I didn't know why she had been taking third shifts recently, but she was, so she wouldn't be home for hours and I needed to talk to her.

  "Hello?" she asked into the phone. Her voice sounded familiar, but the distortion from the phone made her sound hollow. The weariness in her voice was audible, and I immediately regretted calling her. But still I continued talking and answered.

  "Mama," I said. "Mama, I need you." All the sudden, I started crying again. God, what was it about me that made me cry so much? I wish that I could have that part of me removed, but for now I would have to deal with it. "Mama, will you come home? I need you." I heard her sigh over the phone. I knew that it wouldn't be easy to find someone to cover her evening shirt, but there were always extra workers waiting around the factory, in the cafeteria, or in the break room, who were waiting to jump in to cover for someone.

  "Do you want me to come home, baby?" she asked me, her hard and authoritative voice beginning to soften. She continued without me even having to answer. "Okay, baby. I'll try to get someone to cover the second shift for me, I shouldn't be working two in a row, anyway. I'll try to be home as soon as I can. It shouldn't be more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half tops." She assured me before adding, "Do you want me to ask one of the neighbors to come by and check on you? I'm sure it would be no problem for Mrs. Sherwood next door."

  "No, Mama," I told her, my normally confident voice trembling and tear filled. "I need you. I don't need Mrs. Sherwood." She told me that that was fine, and she would try to be home as soon as she could be, and then she hung up the phone. And then I waited.

  I was too anxious to do anything but wait. I was too distracted to be able to watch anything on the TV. I was too shaky to read any of my books or magazines. I was too worried to focus on any of my homework, and finally I was too upset to try to cheer myself up or distract myself in any way. It was going to be a long "hour, maybe an hour and a half tops" as my mom had described it. I guess the boredom took over because I was soon fast asleep on the couch, tossing and turning yet staying asleep in a feverish nightmare. It was slightly ironic how this day had gone; I began the day by lying to my mom about being sick and now I actually felt physically ill.

  I woke up not long after, or so I thought, but noticed immediately that someone had placed a blanket over me while I had been sleeping. I quickly got up in order to look around for my mother.

  "Good morning, sleepyhead," she called to me from the kitchen. "I'm in here, love. I'm making dinner, but I thought that I'd give you some more time to sleep. You were fast asleep when I walked through the door, I figured that if you were sick enough that you had to stay home from school and tired enough that you fell asleep in the middle of the day, then I should probably leave you alone and let you rest. You can go back to sleep, love. I'm here, okay?"

  Her offer was tempting. Just going back to sleep actually sounded perfect, even with the unsettling dreams that I had been having. It was better than dealing with my reality. Well, I guess that it was actually Lexi's reality, but I was her person, so it was my reality, too.

  I ran to my mother and gave her a big hug. I hugged her tightly and breathed her in. She patted my back gently, like she had when I was a little girl.

  "Shh, shh," she breathed into my ear. "It's okay, Mama is here now. It's all going to be okay. Do you want to go back to bed?" I nodded. She followed me into my bedroom, watched as I got into my bed, and tucked the covers in around me. She sat on the side of my bed, her hand on my back, still rubbing and patting. I didn't want her to go. I wanted this to be my life from now on. But I knew that I couldn't ignore the problem.

  "Mama," I called out to her, grasping at her hand so that she wouldn't leave. I wasn't sure if I was actually sick or not but was certainly acting sick enough—and my mom was concerned enough—that she stayed with me in my room.

  "It's all right, love," she told me in her soothing voice. "It's all right. I've got you."

  When I woke up a couple hours later, I meandered down the stairs. My mom looked different than before, more tired. She sighed before asking me how I felt and if I was up for having dinner.

  "Lexi's pregnant," I blurted out suddenly. My mom didn't say anything but I saw her face fall a little. My mom had always liked Lexi. Lexi made me happy, so she made my mom happy. When it hadn't worked out between Lexi and I, my mom had been fairly upset as she had grown to see Lexi almost as her own child over the years.

  "Well I'm going to assume that you're not the father," she told me jokingly. The joke was so out of place in this conversation, and because my mom was usually such a serious person. We both started cracking up, but it still felt uncomfortable to be laughing about something like this, something so life altering, something so enormous. It felt almost like we were mocking all the pain that this would cause.

  "I don't know what to do, Mama," I told her honestly. I looked up at her and she frowned deeply, her eyebrows furrowing into her smooth forehead.

  "I'm glad to see that you want to help her," my mom said. "But she isn't your responsibility. None of this is. She made her own decisions and now she's going to have to live with them for the rest of her life. But she isn't your girlfriend, I honestly don't see why you have to get dragged into this."

  "But Mama," I argued ba
ck. "She was my girlfriend for two years. That doesn't go away because it didn't work out. I mean, we're not together in the same way as we were before all of this, but we're still close."

  "Really?" she asked me incredulously. "Are you guys still really that close? Because I haven't seen her once since the two of you broke up way back over the summer. I haven't heard you mention her once. I haven't seen her come by at all, and you haven't asked to go to her house, either. The two of you have not gone out to do one single activity, see a movie, or anything. I really don't think that the two of you are close anymore. Or at least not as close as you think. I think that you probably feel guilty that she's pregnant, because if she had stayed with you she wouldn't be sleeping around with guys, and then she wouldn't be pregnant right now."

  "Oh my god," I said under my breath. "You're unbelievable!" I shouted. She looked mildly hurt, but I couldn't help but to go on. She was insulting my person. It felt almost like she was insulting me. "You don't get to judge her! She is trying to do the right thing and make the right decision with what to do here. She's trying to be responsible!" My mom got up from the bed and walked halfway to the door of my bedroom before turning around to face me once more.

  "Trying," she said. "Trying! You say that she's trying to be responsible. You know why she's trying? It's because she isn't responsible. And I don't blame her, she's a kid. The most responsible thing someone in her position should have done was use a freaking condom, for pete's sake! I mean, she is sixteen-goddamn-years-old. She isn't nearly old enough for a child, or to handle the responsibility that comes with motherhood.

  "Is she at least going to get an abortion?" she asked me. I didn't feel like dignifying that with a response, but I thought back to last night when I had demanded the same thing of Lexi.

  "I don't know," I told her. "It's not my call. It's her body, it's her decision. Okay? It's not up to me. And besides, she's religious. She told me last night that she wasn't sure it was worth having an abortion if there was even a chance that an abortion really is killing a baby."