Because I Love You

by Tori Rigby

  Heather joined me minutes later at our usual lunch table in the quad outside—in true, late fashion—and the majority of our cheerleading squad followed. Only Beth Donaghue, Neil’s sister and my archenemy, and her mini-me, Gwen, were missing.

  “So, pep rally on Friday,” Monica White, my co-captain, began. She was one of those girls who was so nice that you could curse her out and she’d apologize to you. Never would I have pegged her to lead a cheerleading squad, but she was not only a great dancer and gymnast, she looked the part. All the guys at River Springs Prep had her at the top of their wish lists.

  She continued, “I was thinking it’d be really cool to do this, like, double pyramid, basket toss thing. And then Andie could flip forward while Beth goes backward. It’d be so fun. What do you think?”

  “We haven’t practiced that yet,” April, one of the other cheerleaders, said. Where Beth and I were the two main flyers, April was a base. At five foot eleven, she was a girl with a pretty face who could take down a linebacker. She was a fierce and powerful gymnast, but if any of us tried to hold her in the air, she’d come crashing down.

  “So? Beth’s already on board. Really, it’s up to you, Andie. I promise we won’t drop you. And we’ll practice it on Wednesday, so it won’t be, like, totally foreign.”

  I shrugged, unwrapping my turkey sandwich. Could I still cheer while I was pregnant? The doctor would probably say no. But I’d never had a problem with last minute changes before, so a negative response was out of the question. They’d know something was up, and I didn’t feel like creating a cover story. “I’m in.”

  Monica clapped her hands together. “Oh, I’m so excited! I think it’s going to be amazing.”

  I bit into my sandwich, my stomach growling. But instead of my taste buds jumping up and down, my stomach decided it did not want turkey. As soon as the scent of lunch meat hit my nose, my gut punched the reject button. Jumping out of my chair, I dropped the sandwich on the table and ran for the nearest trashcan, my hand clasped over my mouth. I reached the rubbish just in time to avoid vomit shooting between my fingers.

  As my body emptied its contents, I squeezed my eyelids closed. The gazes of my schoolmates burned into me. Someone touched my arm.

  “Hey, you okay?” Carter asked.

  Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I turned and pushed him away. First, the answer to that question was an obvious “no.” But, second, I didn’t want him asking if I was fine. I didn’t want him anywhere near me. This was his fault. He was the one who told me he loved me. He was the one who kissed me. And he was the one who sobered up the next morning and told me we should just be friends, for Heather’s sake.

  Heather grabbed my arm. “I got this.”

  She led me to the bathroom before any tears fell and I made a bigger scene than I already had. Heather tucked me in a stall and instructed me to “get it all out” while she ran to her car for a toothbrush. I knelt with my arms wrapped around my waist and heaved until my throat was on fire. Grabbing a huge wad of toilet paper, I wiped my lips and flushed.

  Heather leaned against the sink when I exited the stall, twirling a toothbrush in her fingers. She stared at me, her head slightly tipped and an eyebrow raised.

  “Sorry.” I took the toothbrush and toothpaste from her hands and avoided meeting her stare in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

  “Don’t apologize to me. I’m not the one you pushed in front of the whole school. You know he’s going to ask me what the hell that was about.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t say anything to him.”

  Heather raised her hands in exasperation. “What do you think he’s going to do, Andie? Slap a big W on your chest and paint whore across your locker? This is Carter, your best friend. I know you’re freaking out, but don’t take it out on him.”

  I rinsed my mouth and spit into the sink, my insides still in a knot. “I didn’t mean it, I swear. I just . . .” I shook my head, unable to tell her the truth. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But the words stuck in my throat.

  Heather sighed. “Fine. I won’t spill the beans. But you know he’s going to be pissed if he finds out from someone else.”

  “I know.”

  She handed me a long strip of paper towel, and I asked, “Do you always keep a toothbrush in your car?”

  Heather looked at me like I should’ve known better. “Well, yeah. Having an older brother in college comes with its perks, if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  How was I the one who’d ended up pregnant?

  I shook my head on our way back to lunch, and only little snickers flew at me from a few of Beth’s friends—and one person asked if I’d boarded the bulimia train. Though comments like that usually bothered me, I preferred they thought I stuffed my fist down my throat to stay skinny.

  When the final period ended, I traipsed to my locker, wandering the halls to delay today’s after-school activity. I took my time cramming my homework into my backpack and fiddling around with the makeup kit I kept at school.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened at lunch?” Carter’s voice startled me.

  I forced myself to gently close my locker door. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t about you.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Then what’s going on? Did something happen at home? Heather said you were fine, but she was obviously lying.”

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing like that. Look, I have to go, but I’ll call you later.”

  I peeked over my shoulder as I hurried to leave. Carter’s hands rose in the air, and he spun around, marching down the hall to the football team’s locker room. I bit my lip and pushed open the doors leading to the parking lot.

  chapter four

  “You have the money?” Heather asked for the millionth time as we pulled into Planned Parenthood.

  “Yes.”

  “God, don’t get pissy. Just making sure.” She parked near the front door.

  Stepping out of the car, I glanced around. Buildings across the street had bars over the windows, and two doors down, some guy leaned against a wall, smoking pot. I could smell it from where I stood. Holding my breath—both out of fear we were going to get mugged and because the stink of weed was making me sick—I followed Heather inside.

  Pregnant women sat around the blue-carpeted room. A few were older, but the majority looked to be in their twenties. Scanning the room to make sure I didn’t know anyone, I followed Heather to the front desk where a graying woman with long, red fingernails typed away at a keyboard.

  Heather snapped after a few minutes of being ignored. “Um, hello?”

  The woman held up a clipboard without making eye contact. In a flat voice, she said, “Fill this out. Sign in. We’ll call your name when we’re ready. Bring the clipboard back when you’re done.” She went back to typing, as if she were getting points for the most gibberish words in five minutes.

  “Bitch,” Heather mumbled under her breath as we walked away. She handed me the paperwork and scrawled my name across the sign-in sheet. The two of us found a spot near a barred window at the far side of the yellow-walled room.

  “God, we’re going to be here for hours,” Heather said. “There were, like, thirty names on that list.”

  I clenched my fists. The last thing I needed was to miss supper. Mom had made it very clear I was supposed to be home by then. She’d search for me if I didn’t show up.

  “Maybe it’s a running total of all the people who visited today,” I replied.

  “Maybe. You want a magazine? I think they have something other than pregnancy crap.” She chucked an Abortion or Adoption: Which One is Right for You? pamphlet over her shoulder.

  I bit my lip. Part of me still hung on to the hope that my test had been a false positive—nothing but an ovary problem. Heather said it happened. But, what if it was positive? I tried to picture what Carter would do when I told him the truth: “It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you,” he’d say and pull a ring from hi
s pocket.

  Who was I kidding? His parents would do everything in their power to keep their perfect son away from me.

  Carter was expected to graduate at the top of our class, get into an Ivy League school on a football scholarship, and become a famous lawyer like his mother. As soon as they found out the baby was his, they’d pay for me to have an abortion before shipping me off to Australia so I could never bother their son again. But abortion was out of the question; I couldn’t go through with it. Just the thought made my skin crawl. Would I be able to put a baby up for adoption, though? I pictured doctors snatching my baby from my arms and shivered. If I was pregnant, I was definitely keeping it.

  Though, I’d rather just wake up from this stupid nightmare.

  After two hours of restless waiting, my name was called. My cheeks burned as I followed the nurse to the back of the facility. People watched me, probably thinking I was some screwed up kid who slept around and had it coming.

  “How tall are you?” the nurse asked.

  “Five-two.”

  “Step on the scale, please.”

  I slipped off my shoes, handed Heather my purse, and then stepped on the large, metal platform. One hundred and ten pounds. At least I hadn’t started gaining weight, yet. After I slid my feet back into my sneakers, Heather and I followed the nurse down a balloon-wallpapered hallway. Inside a small room, I climbed onto an exam table while Heather plopped into a wooden chair against the wall. The nurse took my vitals then left us alone.

  “I just thought of something,” Heather said. “What if they check your vagina?”

  “What?” My jaw dropped. They wouldn’t do that, would they? I mean, I guess if I was pregnant, I’d have to start seeing an obstetrician. But right here, right now? My legs clenched together.

  “I swear I will run like Forrest Gump if I hear the words ‘drop your pants.’”

  I rolled my eyes. What was she going to do if I had a baby? Move to a different country?

  A knock at the door made me jump. In walked a woman, maybe in her mid-forties, with a cute dark brown pixie haircut. She held a clipboard to her chest and extended a hand to me.

  “Hi, Miss Hamilton. I’m Dr. Jankowski. The paperwork here says you came in for a pregnancy test?”

  I nodded. The lump in my throat was softball-sized.

  The doctor sat on a swivel stool. “All right. We’ll do that in a minute. But let’s first go over a few basic questions, okay?”

  Again, I nodded and gripped the edge of the examination table.

  “You’re sixteen. Any history of medical issues?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “And up until recently, your periods have been regular?” When I nodded again, she continued, “Have you taken a home pregnancy test?”

  I nodded.

  “When was your last period?”

  “Um”—I touched my forehead with shaking fingers—“maybe eight weeks ago? I can’t remember.”

  Dr. Jankowski jotted a note. “How many partners have you had?”

  “One.” Crap, my voice shook.

  “No STDs that you know of?”

  I hoped not. But I’d been Carter’s first too. Or so he’d said. I shook my head. He wouldn’t lie to me.

  Dr. Jankowski wrote a few more notes on her clipboard then looked at me. “Okay, well, why don’t we take the test now? We’ll start with a urine test, and if the results are iffy, we’ll move on to a blood test.” She stood and pulled a sealed plastic bag with a cup inside from a cupboard. “There’s a bathroom across the hall. After you seal the cup, hand it to a nurse, and she’ll take it to be processed. I’m going to go check on another patient, but I’ll be back.”

  Nodding, I took the bag from her and waited until she left the room before climbing down to take my official test.

  Heather was typing away on her phone when I returned. “Carter wanted to know where you were. Your mom told him you were at my place, and I guess he stopped by to talk to you.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That we were at the doctor.”

  Every cell in my body froze. “What?”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him what for. Just that we were going to be a while still.”

  Climbing onto the table again, I lay back and covered my face with my arms. The room spun. Now he would definitely know something was wrong, and the more questions he asked, the quicker I would break. Thanks a lot, Heather.

  Dr. Jankowski waltzed into the room, her gaze skimming over a piece of paper in her hands. “Okay, let’s see what came back.”

  When her lips pursed, I knew I had my answer. I turned my head so when she looked up, she wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. Somehow, I managed to keep them at bay until we were on our way home.

  In the car, I stared at the trees lining the expressway with my forehead pressed against the window. After Dr. Jankowski had announced I was about eight weeks pregnant, she handed me a bunch of pamphlets about abortion, adoption, what to eat, what to avoid, what pills to take, blah, blah, blah. At some point in time, I’d stopped listening.

  Heather turned down the music. “You haven’t said a word in, like, an hour. Do you want to talk?”

  “Not really.”

  I pretended to fall asleep. But my thoughts danced with too many questions. How do I tell Carter? How do I tell Mom? Cheerleading was out; the doctor had said so. Would anyone notice if I disappeared for months? My jaw stiffened as I fought the urge to smack my head against the glass. Maybe if I knocked myself unconscious, I’d wake up in seven and a half months and not be pregnant anymore.

  I stared at Heather out of the corner of my eye. Tapping her fingertips on the steering wheel, she looked like she was about to crap herself. She was trying to leave me alone, but I knew it was killing her to stay silent. She had an opinion about everything.

  Guilt boiled in my gut. I couldn’t lie to her anymore. And if I told Carter and my mom that he was the father before her . . . well, that’d just make things a thousand times worse. She had to know the truth.

  I straightened. “Okay, maybe there is something I need to tell you.”

  Heather relaxed. “Oh, thank God. Seriously, I thought I was going to have to start talking to myself over here. So, I was thinking that maybe telling Carter would be a good practice run for your mom.”

  “Heather—”

  “And then, between Carter and me, we could give you alternate scenarios with different responses—”

  “Heather, shut up.”

  She clamped her mouth closed and raised an eyebrow.

  Yes, I know. You hate being cut off. “Look, I need to tell you something, and I know you’re going to hate me, but please try not to.”

  “O . . . kay?”

  Taking a deep breath, I dug my fingernails into my thighs. I spoke the words quickly, forcing them out of my mouth before I lost my courage, “I’ve been lying to you, and I know we don’t do that, and I’m sorry. But I couldn’t tell you the truth because it sucks so much more.”

  Heather narrowed her eyes.

  “‘Mr. England’ isn’t the baby’s father. Carter is.”

  At first, I wasn’t sure she’d heard me. But then Heather’s gaze hardened, and her knuckles whitened. The car accelerated. “You two slept together?”

  My fingernails dug deeper into my legs. “I know. I’m sorry. We were drunk. It just sort of happened.”

  “Was this before or after I told you I liked him?”

  “Before. I swear I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known.”

  Heather glared at the road, her nostrils flaring. She screamed. “God, Andie! Carter, really? You did it with my best friend?”

  “Hey, he’s my best friend, too.”

  “Not anymore, he isn’t! Now he’s your freaking baby daddy! What do you think’s going to happen when he finds out, huh? It’ll be you two against the world, and I’ll be tossed to the fucking curb!”

  “No. We wouldn’t do that.”

>   “You know what? Stop talking. I don’t want to hear it.” Her face was so red that it glowed. “I get now why you were so adamant he didn’t find out, but I swear to God, if you don’t tell him soon, I will.”

  Tucking my knees up to my chin, I stared out the window again. Heather blasted the music the rest of the ride home, and when we pulled into my driveway, I tried to say goodbye, but Heather didn’t even acknowledge my existence. As soon as I shut my car door, she backed out of the driveway without a word.

  Backpack slung over my shoulder, I gripped my purse to my chest, watching as she peeled around the bend. I sniffled and took a deep breath, knowing Mom was home and would grill me as soon as I walked in the door—my red eyes had stared back at me in the window’s reflection the whole ride home.

  But I wasn’t ready to tell her the truth.

  chapter five

  After punching in the garage’s security code, I entered the house and was again greeted by an excited Micah. He squeezed my legs, and I tousled his red hair before he went running to the living room where Aunt Kathy and Uncle Doug were playing what looked like a game of Scrabble. Mom loaded mashed potatoes into a bowl.

  “Hey, honey,” she said. “Go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.” Then she turned and squinted at me. “Everything okay?”

  “Heather and I had a fight. But I’m fine.” I marched through the kitchen and up the stairs. The pregnancy pamphlets were tucked deep in my backpack, but the last thing I wanted was to leave the bag in a place accessible to Mom’s wandering hands. I’d caught her going through my things on a few occasions.

  Locking my door, I tossed my book bag on my bed and grabbed a roll of tape off my desk. Then I fished out the pamphlets and taped them to the back of a dresser. If Mom moved any furniture soon, I’d be shocked. And if she was nosy enough to check behind here . . . well, let’s just say I’d be signing up for anger management.