Because I Love You

by Tori Rigby

  I jogged downstairs. Aunt Kathy tucked Micah into his booster seat when I entered the dining room. I grabbed a chair across from my cousin, waiting for Mom to begin the evening prayer. As soon as Aunt Kathy sat, Mom started, “Thank you, Father, for all the blessings we share. Our family, our home, this food. Give us wisdom in our daily decisions, and remind us of your love and mercy. In your Son’s name, Amen.”

  “Amen!” Micah shouted and dug into his food like the little kid in A Christmas Story. If I was in a better mood, I might’ve shouted, “Show me how the piggies eat!” But all that ran through my head was some variation of Tell her or Don’t tell her. Like a scene from a cartoon where your inner evil sat on one shoulder while your conscience planted itself on the other.

  “Micah, use your fork please,” Aunt Kathy scolded.

  He grabbed his mini-utensil like a caveman and stabbed a bite of chicken.

  “So, how was your day, Andie?” Uncle Doug asked.

  Awful. “It was fine.”

  “Andrea, you know we want to hear more than ‘it was fine,’” Mom said. “Did you decide yet if you’re going to run for homecoming court?”

  I shrugged. Definitely not. No one wants a pregnant chick wearing a crown. “I’m not sure yet. They never crown a junior.”

  “That doesn’t mean you don’t go for your dreams,” Uncle Doug said. “I went for mine, and look what God gave me—a beautiful wife, a spirited son, and a great job serving the homeless in London.”

  Ugh. Why did my family always have to follow everything with something gag-worthy? Homecoming queen wasn’t a dream, anyway. Graduating with honors and becoming a doctor—now, that was a different story. But, apparently, God had turned a blind eye to me.

  “So, what happened with Heather?” Mom asked.

  I swirled the mashed potatoes on my plate. “It was a misunderstanding. I’m sure everything’ll go back to normal tomorrow.” Doubt it.

  “Yes, this isn’t the first time you girls have had a fight. Remember when you were about eight years old, and you refused to talk to her because she bought the Barbie you liked after you told her you wanted it for your birthday?”

  I nodded. She’d taken it to school and showed it off like she was the coolest kid to roam the earth, which is what I’d been planning to do a week later. But Carter wasn’t a Barbie, and we weren’t eight. This wasn’t going to blow over in a week.

  “Friends fight, and they move on,” she continued. “I’m sure you girls will figure it out.”

  Sticking a bite of mashed potatoes in my mouth, I avoided eye contact. My mom was one of those people who could see into a person’s soul if she caught your stare. She didn’t need to know I was lying about Heather and me having a simple argument.

  For ten minutes, Mom and Aunt Kathy reminisced about my childhood, telling stories of when I first learned to ski and the time I told them I was going to grow up and become a firefighter with Carter. The more stories they told, the harder it was to keep myself under control. And the last thing I wanted was to blurt out over dinner that I was pregnant.

  “May I please be excused?” I asked.

  Mom tilted her head. “You’ve barely eaten.”

  “I’m still feeling kind of queasy”—which wasn’t a lie—“and I have a lot of homework to finish before I can go to bed.” Also not a lie.

  “Come on, Susan. Let the girl go. I’m sure you remember what it was like, being a teenager and listening to your parents prattle on about you.” Uncle Doug flashed me a warm smile.

  I forced myself to return it.

  “Oh, all right,” Mom said. “I’ll put your food in the fridge in case you get hungry later.”

  Nodding, I stood and left my plate on the kitchen counter before walking—not running—up the stairs. Again, I took a risk locking my door, but if Mom paid a visit, a few seconds to hide the pamphlets would save me from an even worse punishment. Grabbing the booklets, I hopped onto my bed and, with shaking hands, flipped through the ones about prenatal care, what to avoid, and how my body would change over the next few months.

  I held my breath as I looked at the pictures of baby bellies, dreading the day I glanced in the mirror and saw my own abdomen distended. The symptoms were listed by trimester, and I slammed the brochure closed. A shiver rolled down my spine. Was that really what was to come?

  I can’t do this. An abortion would just be easier, right?

  Jumping off the bed, I returned the brochures to their hiding spot. Leaning against the dresser, I put a hand on my aching chest. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply and forcing the panic into the pit of my stomach. If I could calm myself before every dancing, gymnastics, and cheerleading competition, I could do it now.

  When I opened my eyes, my insides still tossed, like I’d stepped onto a ship in the middle of turbulent waters without my sea legs, but the tears were gone.

  I can do this. Heather’s plan was good: tell Carter, then, together, we would figure out a way to tell my mom. I’d already decided if I was pregnant, I’d keep my baby; the fear of what was to come wouldn’t get in the way.

  Clenching my jaw, I grabbed my textbooks. Once I talked to Carter, everything would be okay. He was a reliable friend and ally, not some jerk like Neil Donaghue who made out with a girl behind the reference section of the library when he was dating another. Not that I still held a grudge against the only other guy I’d ever had a crush on.

  I sighed, opening the pages. Everything would be fine. I was sure of it.

  Mom checked on me a few hours later, but, by then, I’d buried myself in homework, so her visit didn’t last long. Fingering the locket around my neck, I read ahead in my English textbook, anxious for when I’d hear the clicks of bedroom doors closing. Around 10:30, my family finally went to bed, and at 11:00, I dialed Carter.

  He picked up on the third ring. “I was beginning to think you were going to blow me off.”

  “I know. Sorry. Overbearing mother.” I used that defense all the time, but no one questioned it. The excuse wasn’t far from the truth.

  “So, are we going to talk about what happened at school?” he asked.

  I bit my lip. Telling him the truth over the phone was a pretty crappy thing to do. Somehow, I needed to see him tonight. “Can you come over?”

  “Right now?” Though he lived maybe five minutes away—walking distance—his parents were pretty strict about curfew.

  “Yes.”

  There was silence on his end, and at first, I thought he’d hung up, but then his voice came through. “Okay, yeah, they’re sleeping. Give me ten minutes.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

  Tucking my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants, I opened my bedroom door and snuck, barefoot, down the hall. I stopped at Mom’s doorway then the guest room’s, listening for the sounds of soft snores. When they met my ears, I tiptoed the rest of the way downstairs and eased the sliding door open. After shutting it behind me, I crossed the yard to the swing set. The air had that cool-yet-muggy feel of early fall, and the scent of a wood fireplace met my nose. Soft chirps of crickets filled my ears. Lightning bugs brightened the sky with tiny balls of fire. Damp grass tickled my feet.

  I sat in a yellow swing and pushed myself gently back and forth, grasping the metal chains. Carter came around the left side of the house, his sandy hair falling into his face. My heartbeat raced. This was it—the moment everything changed. Would the baby have blonde hair like his, like mine? Would it get Mom’s Egyptian features or Dad’s Irish ones? Carter and Heather always joked I was adopted, but supposedly a baby could inherit genes from its grandmother or grandfather.

  I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and tried to calm my racing heart. First things first: tell Carter.

  Carter sat in the swing next to me. “We haven’t done this in a long time.”

  I forced a smile. “Not since our ninth grade homecoming dance.”

  He chuckled. “Your shoes got all muddy, and you ended up wearing those bright green, Kermit slippers
.”

  “You remember that?”

  Carter’s dark brown gaze flickered over my face. “Of course. You had your hair curled over your right shoulder”—his fingertips grazed the side of my neck—“and you wore that blue Cinderella-dress-thing.”

  I jumped up and wrapped my arms around my waist. He was flirting again, just like he had in the hot tub. I needed to get the truth out before he sucked me in. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

  With a sigh, he stood and put a hand on each of my upper arms. “Is that what this is about? Andie, you know I meant it. But I thought we’d decided, for Heather’s sake—”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Color drained from Carter’s cheeks, and his hands dropped from my arms. He took a step backward. “What?”

  “It’s yours.” My voice shook.

  Carter ran his hands through his hair and down his face. He sat back in his swing. “How? I thought . . . I mean . . . we were safe, right?”

  “I know. I didn’t want to believe it either, but Heather took me to Planned Parenthood to have a test.”

  His gaze snapped to me. “Heather knows?”

  “Of course she knows.”

  He jumped out of his seat and put his hands on his head. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to tell her what we did.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Not tell my best friend I was pregnant?”

  “You could’ve at least kept my name out of it!”

  I glared at him. “I wasn’t going to lie to Heather. How do you think she’d feel if she found out the truth from someone else?”

  “She didn’t have to find out. You made an appointment to get rid of it, right?”

  My heart stopped. Was that really what he wanted—for me to get an abortion? I searched his face for any sign he might be joking and took in a quick breath when I found none.

  I pressed a hand to my stomach. “I’m not going that route, Carter.”

  “Then what’d you go to Planned Parenthood for?”

  “To have a test! I already told you that.”

  Carter paced in front of me, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He stopped and looked at me, and his shoulders fell. “Andie, you know I can’t do this. My parents . . . .”

  He didn’t have to finish the sentence. His parents had a strict ten-year plan for him to follow. I was there the day his mother found a pack of cigarettes in his gym bag and threatened to pull him from River Springs Prep so he could “go hang out with all the deadbeats in the world of public school.” A baby would get him kicked out of the house, for sure.

  I placed a hand on his chest and looked at him through bleary eyes. “We’ll figure it out. Just give me a couple days to tell my mom, and then we’ll come up with a way to tell your parents. I’m sure if we have a plan—”

  Carter removed my hand, letting my fingertips linger in his palm. For the first time in years, he was on the verge of tears. He dropped my hand, kissed my forehead, and stepped back. “I’m sorry, Andie. I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, but I can’t be a father. Not yet. If you do this, you’ll have to do it without me.” He turned and jogged around the side of the house without another glance in my direction.

  I stared after him, coldness rolling through me. My knees buckled, and I crashed to the ground. Shivering, I dug my fingers into the grass. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. My shoulders rolled forward as a sob broke free.

  Another followed. Another. I gripped the back of my neck and rocked as heat radiated from my knees, all the way up my spine. He’d abandoned me. My best friend had actually walked away. With shoulders curled over my chest, my sobs turned into gasps, and I clenched my teeth, desperate to ensure my family remained asleep. I whipped my cell phone out of my pocket.

  I hate you, Carter Lambert! I hate you! I texted him, meaning it with all that was left of my heart.

  chapter six

  For two days, I managed to skip school. Both mornings, I woke up puking my guts out, so I was able to convince Mom to let me stay home. But the third day, she threatened to take me to the doctor. It was time to go to school, regardless of how miserable I felt. After applying coats of concealer to my almost-swollen-shut eyes, I dressed in my cheerleading uniform—it was still Spirit Week, after all—and moseyed downstairs.

  “How are you feeling?” Mom asked when I entered the kitchen.

  “Better.”

  “You look better.”

  Thanks?

  She kissed me on my cheek and grabbed her briefcase before adjusting her belt around her ever-shrinking waistline. “I’ve got an early meeting, so I need to go. Make sure you call your aunt and uncle and say goodbye. They left before you were up, but their flight hasn’t taken off yet. Oh, and come home right after school.”

  I nodded as she walked out the door. Where else was I going to go? Neither Heather nor Carter had texted me in two days.

  I dug my phone out of my purse, dialed my aunt, and then, after pouring a bowl of cereal before deciding I wasn’t hungry, sat at the kitchen counter and stared at the rooster magnets on the fridge. When it was obvious Heather wasn’t going to pick me up, I swung my book bag over my shoulder, grabbed my purse, and made my way down the street. It’d been a long time since I’d ridden the private bus that shipped students to and from my high school. One of these days, I had to convince Mom to let me get my driver’s license.

  When the bus stopped at the corner, I climbed in and shuffled down the aisle. Almost everyone was a freshman, but there were a couple juniors I recognized from the halls. I sat next to one of them, a Native American girl I’d seen maybe once or twice, not planning to make conversation. That lasted only five minutes.

  “You’re Andie Hamilton, right?” she asked. Her bright pink glasses slid down her nose, and her sleek, black hair fell over her shoulder.

  “Um, yeah. Why?”

  She flicked her thumb across her phone then turned the device in her hand so I could see what was on her screen—a text that read, Dude, did you hear Andie’s preggers?

  The world slowed. If she’d gotten that text, how many other people had? Heat burned through my body, and I clenched my jaw to keep from throwing up all over my schoolmate.

  “Who sent that?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “Someone from homeroom. But, apparently, they heard it from Beth Donaghue.”

  Of course. Neil saw me buy the test. And if he told his sister, that meant the whole school knew. I gripped my book bag and stared out the window.

  How long did I really think I would be able to keep it a secret? Newsflash: Teen daughter of deceased Christian speaker, Kyle Hamilton, pregnant! Read all about it! That was how our city worked. Everyone’s dirty laundry aired out in Town Square for all to see. But still—three days? That’s all it took?

  Fighting tears, I turned to her. “You won’t delete that from your phone, will you?”

  She tapped her phone a few times. “There. Gone.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  Wow. Not many people would be that kind. I flashed her the most genuine smile I could muster. “Thank you. I’m sorry—what’s your name again?”

  “Jill. Jill Anderson.” She held out a hand, and I took it.

  “Do we have any classes together?”

  “Yeah. History. And Chemistry. And French.”

  I grimaced. Was I really that self-absorbed? “Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “No one remembers me. I’m used to it.”

  The bus pulled into the parking lot, and my stomach sank. I really didn’t want to go in there. I fought the urge to cling to the seat.

  I turned to Jill. “Did you maybe want to sit with me at lunch today?”

  If I was going to make it through the day, I would need someone to help me.

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  I tried to return the gesture, but only one corner of my mouth twitched. For someone so kind, I was
amazed more people didn’t notice her. Myself included.

  Stepping off the bus, everything seemed normal. No one looked at me weirdly. In fact, they didn’t really look at me at all. But as I entered the school, more and more people turned their backs to me, giggling amongst each other. I winced, my neck and ears on fire, and forced myself to keep moving. If people thought I didn’t care that they were laughing at me, maybe they’d leave me alone.

  Then I reached my locker, and I forgot how to breathe.

  Mary’s not a virgin anymore! Whore! was written with bright red lipstick on the door. Underneath, a picture had been taped to the metal—my cheerleading portrait with a pregnant belly drawn on in permanent marker.

  My book bag fell to the floor as I leaned against the locker next to mine, my knees weakening.

  Snickers floated down the hall, and I turned my head. My skin flushed from head to toe. Beth leered, twirling the lipstick in her fingers as she stood next to Gwen and April—and Heather. Grabbing my backpack, I ran from the school and around the side of the building.

  I paced, my hand on my stomach as I tried to catch my breath. It was bad enough that Beth had been the one to write the message on my locker, but why did Heather have to be involved? She’d smiled that devilish grin she usually reserved for Beth. Did Heather really hate me that much for sleeping with Carter?

  “Hey, Hamilton. You all right?” a guy asked not far from where I stood.

  I snapped my head in the direction of his voice. You’ve got to be kidding me. Neil Donaghue flicked his cigarette to the ground. Because that’s how my luck went.

  I stormed at him. “You! You . . . assbutt! What did you say to your sister?”

  Neil’s hands went up like I was holding him at gunpoint. “Whoa there, crazy woman. I didn’t tell my sister anything. She doesn’t even live with me anymore. And assbutt? Really?”

  I pushed him. “I know you saw me buy that test. Did you tell her I was pregnant? Did you?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re pregnant?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, like you didn’t know! It’s all over school, especially now that your sister wrote it on my locker. What did I ever do to her?”