Anything but Normal

by Melody Carlson

  Sophie put a lot of time into her article about the pregnancy center. But when she finally finished it on Sunday night, it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected it would be. At least it was fair, though. Mostly she didn’t want to think about it anymore.

  And when she took it to school on Monday, she hoped she wouldn’t bump into any of the girls she’d interviewed. More than that, she never wanted to see the pregnancy center again.

  “You’ve examined both sides of this issue now,” Mr. Young told Sophie at their publisher’s meeting. “I recommend you run this feature on the front page in the next edition.”

  “I agree,” Wes said.

  “The front page?” Sophie asked. “Are you sure?”

  “It’s a good story, Sophie.” Wes nodded. “And judging by the reactions we got from your editorial, you’ve hit a hot button with this whole pregnancy issue.”

  Mr. Young gave her back the hard copy. “I think readers will appreciate your honesty.”

  She cringed. Honesty? That made her want to laugh. Or cry.

  Her only escape was to lose herself in school and journalism. So for the next couple of weeks, that’s what she did. By mid-November, she realized that she was feeling fairly normal again. No more morning sickness or tender breasts or excessive tiredness. It was amazing. Almost as if the whole thing had gone away, except for the fact that none of her jeans fit her now. She’d gotten some sweats and baggy clothes to cover things up. Sure, her friends occasionally took jabs at her weight, but that seemed minor compared to reality.

  However, a different kind of reality began to create itself. Sophie felt so much more like her old self, so much more normal and almost happy, that she actually began to imagine she wasn’t really pregnant. She knew it was a game—or that she was being the queen of denial again. But at the moment it was working.

  “My mom read your story in the Panther Paw,” Kelsey told Sophie at lunch one day. “And she wasn’t too pleased.”

  “Huh?” Sophie looked up from her fries.

  “She thinks you’re being way too soft on pregnancy.”

  “Soft on pregnancy?” Sophie frowned.

  “What did she want Sophie to do?” Jenny demanded. “Beat on the girls who were pregnant? Like they don’t have enough problems?”

  “Okay, maybe I didn’t say that quite right.” Kelsey looked contemplative. “What my mom said was that by showing the pregnancy center the way you did, and by telling those girls’ stories, it was kind of like saying it was okay.”

  “And your point is?” Sophie glared at Kelsey.

  “I know what Kelsey is saying,” Carrie Anne said. “She means it’s like you were endorsing the whole thing. Like it’s cool to be a pregnant teen.”

  “Yeah,” Kelsey said. “Like that Juno movie. Like you’re glamorizing it. That’s what my mom said.”

  “Glamorizing it?” Sophie stared at her friends like they were aliens. “Are you guys nuts?”

  “Well, it did seem like you were on their side,” Hannah pointed out. “Like you thought it was great that they were in the pregnancy center.”

  “Well, where do you guys think those girls should be?” Sophie took in a deep breath. “Maybe you want them to be hidden away? Treated like they have leprosy and locked away in some dark dungeon? And forget about education, right? I mean, once a girl makes a mistake or is the victim of rape—”

  “You don’t know that for a fact,” Kelsey said.

  “Are you saying that girl lied?”

  “I’m saying that if I got pregnant, I’d probably say something like that too.” Kelsey sat up straighter. “Not that there’s any chance of that. I’m just saying.”

  “You guys are living in the dark ages.” Jenny shook her head. “Seriously. I thought Sophie’s feature was spot-on.” She reached over and gave Sophie a high five. “Way to go.”

  “I’m not saying we should lock the pregnant girls up,” Carrie Anne protested. “Just that we shouldn’t reward them, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Kelsey agreed. “That’s exactly what my mom said.” “Reward them?” Sophie wanted to scream. “You think they feel rewarded? Do you have any idea what they’re going through? Did you actually read my article? Or are you guys just so judgmental that you can’t even—”

  “We’re not judging them, Sophie,” Carrie Anne argued. “We’re just saying that our society keeps lowering the standards.”

  “Yes!” Kelsey exclaimed. “That’s what my mom said too. She said that when the school makes these pregnancy centers and sets up child care, it’s like giving girls permission to have sex, get pregnant, and—”

  “No one needs to give anyone permission,” Sophie shot back. “It’s happening, Kelsey. Maybe what those girls needed was birth control.”

  “Birth control?” Kelsey looked shocked.

  “Seriously, Sophie.” Carrie Anne shook her head like she thought Sophie had lost her mind. “This doesn’t even sound like you. Are you suggesting that the school nurse should be handing out birth control pills or condoms?”

  “Yeah, hasn’t our town already been down that road?” Hannah said.

  “Maybe we need to go down it again,” Sophie snapped.

  “That’s exactly what my mom thinks,” Kelsey shot back at her. “She’s already planning a meeting at church for next Saturday.”

  “A meeting at church?” Sophie frowned at her. “Why?”

  “To inform people about what’s really going on—”

  “Does she even know what’s going on?” Sophie was talking so loudly that others were listening now. Not that she cared. “She knows it’s time that the church got more involved,” Kelsey continued, “and she thinks that our high school is going straight to—”

  “Maybe she should stop thinking so much.” Sophie’s hands were curled into fists. “And instead of passing judgment, maybe she should spend some time with some of these pregnant girls to find out what’s really—”

  “I can’t believe how you’re defending them,” Carrie Anne said. “Like you think it’s okay to get pregnant while you’re still in high school.”

  Sophie felt ready to explode. She couldn’t believe how harsh and judgmental her friends—if they were her friends—had become.

  “Man, Sophie.” Kelsey looked stunned. “I think journalism is messing with your head. It’s like you’re turning into such a liberal.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? Because I care about people, because I feel sorry for a girl who gets pregnant, I’m suddenly a liberal?” Sophie stood up and stared at her friends. “Fine. I’m a liberal. Whatever!”

  “The next thing we know you’ll be pro-abortion,” Kelsey sniped.

  Sophie picked up her tray, walked away from the table, and counted to ten. As she dumped her tray, she counted to ten again. Some people were such morons. Seriously, if ignorance was bliss, Kelsey North had to be the happiest girl on the planet.

  “Hey, sunshine.”

  Sophie turned to see Wes jogging to catch her.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  She frowned. “No hurry. I just needed to escape from my friends.”

  “What’s up?”

  As they walked to the journalism room, she poured out the whole story. Well, everything except her current condition. “Now Kelsey is calling me a liberal.”

  Wes kind of laughed. “Some of us take that as a compliment.”

  Sophie considered this. “But I always thought I was fairly conservative. I mean, my parents are Republicans. I’m a Christian and pro-life. We live in a very conservative town.”

  “I don’t see why people have to label everything.” Wes sighed. “I mean, instead of just being one thing or another, maybe we need to be better informed—and come to our own conclusions.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, taking this in.

  “And that’s exactly what you did in your feature, Sophie.” “Except that now it feels like I’ve rocked the boat again.”

  “You know what they say.”
/>
  “What?”

  “You know, you can please some of the people some of the time . . .”

  “But not all of the people ever.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Right now it just feels like I’ve made all my friends mad. Well, except for Jenny.” Sophie paused. “And that’s funny.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Jenny used to be the one friend I never agreed with about much of anything.”

  “People change.”

  Sophie nodded. “That’s true.” People did change. Sometimes more than anyone knew.

  14

  “Great article, Sophie!”

  Sophie looked up from her current project to see that Mrs. Manchester had come into the journalism room. “Thanks,” she told her.

  “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to see honest journalism. The girls in the center were pleased too. Thank you for protecting their anonymity.”

  “Well, I’m glad someone likes it.”

  Mrs. Manchester nodded in an understanding way. “You rocked the boat a little?”

  “Seems like that’s what I do best.”

  “That’s because you’re a real newspaperwoman.” This came from Mr. Young.

  “I was just telling Sophie thanks for writing that piece.”

  “You might not be thanking me next week.”

  “What happens next week?” Mrs. Manchester asked.

  “Hopefully nothing.” Sophie frowned.

  “What do you mean?” Mr. Young seemed interested now.

  “Well, I just heard that Kelsey North’s mom wasn’t too thrilled with my article, and now she’s organizing some kind of meeting.”

  “For what purpose?” He waited expectantly.

  “My guess is to discuss the school’s pregnancy center.”

  Mrs. Manchester looked worried. “Oh dear.”

  “When is this meeting scheduled?” Mr. Young asked.

  “Saturday.”

  “Who’s invited to come?”

  “I’m not sure.” Sophie thought for a moment. “But it’s at our church, and I’d think that anyone would be welcome.”

  “I wish I could be there.” Mrs. Manchester sighed. “But I’ll be out of town for Thanksgiving.”

  Mr. Young slapped his forehead. “That’s right. So will I.”

  “Maybe we should schedule another meeting,” Mrs. Manchester suggested. “A town meeting. Maybe we could have it during the following week.”

  “Great idea,” Mr. Young said. “We could get some media coverage too.”

  The next thing Sophie knew, they were planning a meeting and she was agreeing to participate. Great, what would her friends think of her now?

  “It was so nice of the Vincents to invite us for Thanksgiving,” Mom said as Dad drove them across town. “It would’ve been lonely just the three of us this year.”

  “You did tell them that they have to have the TV on, didn’t you?” Dad said.

  “Carrie Anne knows that Bart has a ball game today,” Sophie told him. “She promised that we’d watch it.”

  “Otherwise I’ll be heading straight for home,” he announced.

  “I think you’ve already made that perfectly clear.” Mom glanced back at Sophie. “Your father is such a social butterfly.” “I refuse to miss my own son’s football game.”

  Sophie smiled. “Don’t worry, Dad, Pastor Vincent likes football too.”

  “That’s another thing,” Dad growled. “Eating with church people—the pastor of the church even.”

  “Oh, Dad!”

  “Mind your manners, Bud.” Mom reached over and thumped him on the forehead.

  “That means don’t touch your food until Pastor Vincent is able to say a blessing,” Sophie reminded him.

  “And put your napkin in your lap,” Mom said.

  “And hold my little pinky finger when I drink my tea?” he said.

  “Just be nice.”

  Dad parked in front of the Vincents’ house, and they got out of the car. “It looks like they’ve got more than just us for dinner,” Sophie said.

  “Yes.” Mom handed a casserole dish to Sophie. “Darlene said they have some good friends joining them today.”

  Sophie froze. “Good friends?”

  “What’s the matter?” her dad teased. “You’re suddenly turning into a social phobic like your old man?”

  “Come on, Sophie,” Mom called. “I don’t want those yams to get cold.”

  Sophie’s feet felt like cement blocks as she trudged after her parents to the front door. Please, please, please, she actually prayed—for the first time in months—please, please, please, God, don’t let it be the Morrises. And if it is, don’t let Dylan be there. Please, please, please!

  “Hey, Sophie,” Carrie Anne chirped as she let Sophie and her parents into the warm house. “Guess who’s here?”

  Sophie felt faint. And hot. She shoved the casserole toward Carrie Anne. “This is supposed to stay warm.”

  “Let me take your coat, Sophie,” Mrs. Vincent said.

  Sophie didn’t want to remove her coat, didn’t want to stay, wanted to think of some excuse to dash off, but Mrs. Vincent, the consummate hostess, was already peeling it off.

  “The fellows are in the den, Bud,” she told Sophie’s dad. “Watching football.”

  “I’ll bet they’re not drinking brewskies,” he whispered to Sophie as Mrs. Vincent disappeared with their coats.

  “Be good,” Mom said sharply.

  “Want to watch the game too?” Carrie Anne asked Sophie. “It’s not your brother’s game yet. But the guys are in there.”

  “I’ll get this in the oven first.” Sophie grabbed the casserole back from Carrie Anne and made a beeline for the kitchen.

  “Little Susie Homemaker,” Carrie Anne teased. “Meet ya in the den.”

  As they parted ways, Sophie knew she had to think of an excuse to leave. Maybe she could fake appendicitis. She wondered which side had the appendix and what the symptoms were like.

  “I can take that for you,” Mrs. Vincent said.

  Sophie surrendered the dish mutely, staring in horror as Mrs. Vincent introduced Dylan’s mom to Sophie’s mom. The two grandmothers . . . in the same room.

  “Sophie, I see your chin recovered,” Mrs. Morris said.

  Sophie reached up to touch her chin.

  “From your fall at the lake. Remember?”

  “Oh yeah.” Sophie just stood there dumbly.

  “You go watch the game,” Mrs. Vincent said. “We’ve got plenty of helping hands in here.”

  “But I could—”

  “No, no,” Mrs. Morris said. “Go join the kids and the guys. We want to talk about things like menopause and Botox now.”

  Sophie left the kitchen, but instead of going to the den, she went to Carrie Anne’s bedroom and sat down on her bed. What to do, what to do, what to do?

  “What are you doing in here?” Carrie Anne asked. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Sophie just sat there.

  “Are you sick or something?”

  She nodded.

  “Seriously? What’s wrong?”

  Sophie didn’t respond.

  “Want me to get your mom?”

  She shook her head.

  “Really, Sophie, what’s wrong? I mean, you actually do look sick—”

  “I think I have mono,” Sophie told her. Yes, it was a lie. A big fat lie. But it was all she could come up with at the moment. It wasn’t like she could confess to Carrie Anne that (1)she was freaking that Dylan was downstairs, (2) she’d had sex with him, and (3) she was pregnant with his child. Seriously, Carrie Anne would totally freak. Or, worse, she wouldn’t believe her.

  “Mono?”

  Sophie just nodded.

  “How’d you get it?”

  “Probably from Wes.”

  Carrie Anne giggled. “You’ve kissed Wes?”

  Sophie started to cry.

  “I’m sorry. I’m n
ot making fun of you. But it’s just that you never told me.” Carrie Anne frowned. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me, Sophie. We’re best friends and you keep something like that from me?”

  Sophie flopped facedown on the bed and continued to cry.

  “What should I do?”

  “Nothing,” Sophie sobbed. “Just leave me alone.”

  “Does your mom know you have mono?” Carrie Anne’s voice was quieter now. Like she didn’t want anyone in her family to hear her.

  “No,” Sophie muttered.

  “Did you go to the doctor?”

  “No.” Sophie sat up, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

  “So how do you know?”

  “Because Wes has it. And I have all the symptoms. Remember how tired I’ve been?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, before, I did. You seem more like your old self lately. Well, except for now.”

  “Right.”

  “Why don’t you stay up here and have a little rest,” Carrie Anne suggested.

  “Thanks.”

  “I need to go back down. I promised Dylan that I’d whoop him in Ping-Pong.” Carrie Anne giggled again. “Don’t tell Drew, okay?”

  “Tell Drew what?” Sophie shook her head. “Huh?”

  “You know, I wouldn’t want Drew to think I was flirting with Dylan.”

  “Are you?”

  “Duh.” Carrie Anne stood up and went to the mirror, where she put on some lip gloss and fluffed her hair. “Wouldn’t you?” She held up her hand, examining her delicate gold purity ring. She paused to polish the small diamond on her slim-fitting jeans, checked it again, then smiled and looked at Sophie. “Feel better, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  As Carrie Anne left, Sophie thought about the purity party that Pastor Vincent had hosted when Carrie Anne turned twelve. Naturally all of Carrie Anne’s girlfriends were invited, plus their dads. And naturally Sophie’s dad declined the invitation. He had to work, he’d said, but Sophie knew that if it had been one of Bart’s ball games, Dad would’ve made the time.