Just as I was getting ready to grab my new green backpack and head downstairs, I heard the doorbell ring. “I’ll get it!” I yelled, dashing down the stairs. I opened the door, and there stood Will. “Hey!” I exclaimed, giving him a hug. “How was Alaska?” He had spent the last month in Alaska with his uncle learning how to salmon fish.
“Bright.” He smiled. “The sun hardly went down at all.”
“That sounds great,” I said. “Are you on your way to school?”
“Yeah. I thought I would give you a ride.” He brushed the always disheveled hair from his forehead. “If you want to.”
“Are you kidding?” I slammed the door. “Like I want to ride the bus on the first day of school.”
“Lenna!” my mom called, bursting out the door after us. “Aren’t you even going to say goodbye?”
I gave her a kiss and told her goodbye. When we reached the car, Will opened the door for me. “Oh…” I stuttered. “Thanks.” He smiled and shut the door.
He was quiet on the way to school, so I tried to make conversation as best as I could. “So, did you catch anything?” I asked.
“Huh?” he said absentmindedly.
“Did you catch any salmon?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, lots of salmon.”
I tapped my fingers on the armrest. “Did you have a nice time?”
“Yeah.”
I bobbed my head and fiddled with the radio. “Did you bring back any fish?”
“No. No, Lenna?”
I took my eyes off of the radio to look at him. “What?”
“Uh…” He seemed so nervous, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with him. “We never talked about what happened before I left.”
My stomach rolled, remembering the kiss. I had been hoping to pretend like it never happened. “I don’t think there’s really anything to talk about.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, and I could tell he was chewing the inside of his cheek—a nervous habit of his. “Would you like to get some dinner tonight?”
“Sure.” I turned back to the radio. “You want to pick up something from Chick-Fil-A or something?”
“No,” he snorted. “No, I mean…” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go somewhere nice?”
I looked back at him suspiciously. “What for?”
He let out a big frustrated sigh. “For a date, Lenna! I’m trying to ask you to go out to dinner with me… on a date.” His face was bright red.
I laughed. “Is this a joke? Is Heather in the trunk or something tape recording all this?” I pulled a binder out of my backpack and started thumbing through the dividers and blank paper, pretending to look for something that wasn’t there.
“No, Heather is not in the trunk. Why is it so ridiculous that I should want to take you out on a date?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I continued thumbing through the papers for no reason at all. “I was just surprised. That’s all.”
“Well?” He looked at me. “Would you like to go out with me tonight?”
“Um…” My hands shook as I thumbed the blank papers. “Maybe. I’ll have to wait and see how much homework I have.”
“Of course.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just…” He trailed off, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.
Luckily, we were pulling into the school parking lot right then. Will parked and got out of the truck, saying nothing as he hurried away from me. “So I’ll talk to you later,” I called, and he waved back at me.
I was so completely taken off guard by his asking me out that I didn’t know what to think. Will was like a brother to me. I couldn’t go out with my brother. That would be weird. I convinced myself I had misinterpreted the invitation.
The rest of the morning went by as usual; Algebra was boring, Ceramics was the mindless class I had hoped for, History was mildly interesting, and then came Chemistry. Now, something really interesting happened in Chemistry. When it came time to designate lab partners, Mr. Jaworski paired me with Brittany Bell, a popular junior who hung out with Aidan Bettner, my one true love unbeknownst to him.
“I hate Chemistry,” Brittany told me as we sat down at our lab table together.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t mind it.”
“Good,” she exclaimed. Then you can do most of the work!” We laughed, me not realizing she was actually serious.
We spent the rest of the period talking and giggling about Mr. Jaworski’s bald spot and sweat stains. When the bell rang, we walked to the lunch room together.
“So, Lenna,” Brittany said as we walked up to the large glass doors, "who do you normally sit with for lunch?”
“I always sit with Will Hays and Heather Jacobson,” I told her.
Brittany stopped before going through the doors. “Aren’t those two, like, church geeks?” she snorted. “That doesn’t seem like you?”
That was it: the moment when I should have walked away, the moment when everything that followed could have changed. But instead of saying, “All right then, see you in Chemistry tomorrow,” and joining my friends at our table, I made the choice to say, “Yeah, it’s really not.” I was such a coward.
“Why don’t you come sit with us at our table?” Brittany offered. And I did, much to the dismay of my two friends sitting on the other side of the cafeteria, watching me with looks of confusion. I asked myself again and again how I could have been so shallow, so stupid.
Later that day, I ran into Will on my way to the bus. Actually, it was more likely he had tracked me down. “Lenna, I’ll give you a ride home,” he told me.
After our awkward drive that morning, I didn’t want him to give me a ride home, but I was too afraid to say no. I was always too afraid to say no. So I said, “Okay,” and walked to his truck with him.
As we left the parking lot, the real reason for his wanting to drive me home came out. “So why were you sitting at Aidan Bettner’s table today?” he asked.
“Brittany asked me to sit with them, so I did,” I said, not meaning to sound so defensive.
“Why would she ask you to sit with them?”
“Because we have Chemistry together and we’re lab partners and we were having fun hanging out.”
Will shook his head. “I don’t like that group.” He looked at me. “I don’t like to see you hanging out with them.”
“What are you, my dad?” I spat at him. “And who are you to judge them? You don’t even know them.”
“I know they’re a bunch of users. And they’ll use you, Lenna. What other interest could Brittany possibly have in you? Or Aidan for that matter?”
I had never been more offended in my life. “So you think so little of me—”
“No, not you,” he interjected. “Them. I think so little of them.”
We were now sitting in my driveway, but I wasn’t done with what I had to say to him. I wish I had been done. I glared at him. “You’re just angry because I don’t want to go out with you tonight.”
I could tell I had hurt him. “That’s not true,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I think you do want to go out with someone who will only treat you like garbage.”
I snatched my bag up from the car floor and opened the door, my face hot, my eyes filling with angry tears. “Yeah, well I’d rather go out with anyone more than you. You don’t own me, Will.” I leaped out of the truck. “Stay out of my life.” I slammed the door.
“Lenna!” he called after me as I ran up to my front door.
“I mean it, Will. Just leave me alone!” And he did.
~ ~ ~
I grabbed my hair and squeezed it at the scalp, messing up my pony-tail. I took my hair down, ran my fingers through it, and put it back up. The pastor was just finishing up his sermon, of which I had caught very little.
“Let’s bow our heads,” he said, and we all obeyed. I focused on the prayer, trying to push away all other invading thoughts. Suddenly, a tiny twitch in my lower abdomen jolted me out of the pra
yer. I looked up and moved my hand under my shirt. It had felt like a twitch I sometimes got in my eye or leg when a nerve was malfunctioning, or for whatever reason it sometimes happened. But this had been different.
I waited for it to happen again, not paying any more attention to the prayer. It finally twitched again, this time much stronger, and I laughed.
Heather looked up at me. I grabbed her hand and slid it under my shirt and over my abdomen. “What?” she whispered. My stomach twitched again, and her eyes grew from confused to wide with surprise. “Is that?”
I nodded excitedly, my eyes already filling with tears. My parents had now turned their attention from the prayer to us. I reached across Heather to my mom, drawing her hand across Heather’s lap and onto my abdomen. Again we felt the tiny twitch, and my mom covered her mouth with her other hand.
“The baby’s kicking, Ben,” she whispered. My dad reached as far as he could, across both my mom and Heather, and put his hand on my abdomen.
“Oh my,” he whispered as the baby kicked into his hand. “That’s amazing.”
I knew we were making a spectacle of ourselves. I knew several rows of people were watching us, wondering what all the noise was about. I knew Heather’s parents were now watching us with ever-growing looks of disapproval.
But I didn’t care. I also knew my baby was alive and kicking.
Chapter 17
That spring was beautiful—warm sunshine and cool breezes, daffodils and tulips everywhere, green grass adorned with a sea of purple flowers. It was a time when the forest came to life, renewed itself. It was also a time when I came to life, when my relationship with God began its renewal. Like I said, that spring was beautiful.
The pollen, unfortunately, was also the worst I had ever experienced, and I couldn’t take any allergy medicine, so I was a walking, talking sneeze-fest. I half-expected my new Thursday evening Bible study group to ask me to leave as they probably couldn’t hear themselves over my constant sniffling and sneezing. Of course they didn’t ask me to leave, and I was grateful to be there with them, grateful for the fellowship and for every word of Christ that served to break down my walls and fill the hole inside of me. I felt like a butterfly that spring, emerging from the decrepit, rotten chrysalis that had been my life without God.
I thanked God for every day my baby continued to live because I knew any day could be his last. Every day I felt him move, and despite the way my pregnancy had begun and the things that had happened, it somehow brought me joy.
Will still wasn’t talking to me. He was the most stubborn person I had ever known. I finally decided just to leave him alone. Maybe ignoring him like he was ignoring me would make him come around.
I wouldn’t be having a spring baby shower, of course. My mom and I both knew any kind of party would have been awkward and strange. Instead, a small prayer meeting was held in our home with our closest friends. We prayed that God would bless every second of the baby’s life, and I couldn’t help but think that was probably all it would be—seconds. We prayed for my safety, being that it was a high-risk pregnancy and I was so young. We prayed for his continued watchfulness and guidance, and I was beginning to believe he was watching over me. And we prayed I would grow closer to him throughout this experience. I believed this was already happening.
Afterward, we ate carrot cake and the others drank coffee while Heather and I sat in the living room. “What kind of risks are there?” Heather asked me, eyes full of concern.
I pondered her question, thinking back to all the baby books I had read and all that Dr. Rhoades and Dr. Levin had explained to me. “There’s a risk that the baby would be breach. Then I’d have to have a C-section. You know, where they slice me from here to here.” I sliced dramatically across my lower abdomen with my finger.
Heather grimaced. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
I shook my head. “We’re trying to avoid that.”
“What other risks are there?”
“Oh, I don’t know. There’s a chance I could experience something called premature rupture of membranes, or PROM, as we highly educated folk call it.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant either,” Heather said, her face growing more concerned by the second.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, feigning disbelief. “I think it sounds fabulous. I never thought I’d get to experience Prom this year.”
Heather rolled her eyes at me. “Ha, ha. You’re so funny. So what is it anyway?”
“Just my water breaking early.”
“Oh,” Heather said, a bite of carrot cake in her mouth. We sat for a minute, listening to the women in the kitchen cackle at some joke until Heather spoke. “I told Will I was praying for him.”
I raised one eyebrow in curiosity. “About what?”
“Oh, that God would forgive him for his stubbornness and pride and help him to overcome it.”
I smiled. “And what did he say?”
“He said he was praying for the same thing.”
~ ~ ~
I was better able to concentrate on school as time passed, and I felt like I was bringing my grades back up. I hoped I could avoid summer school, and not because I wanted to go lay at the beach in a bathing suit, but because I was sure I would need the summer to heal—physically and emotionally.
I tried to ignore the stares and comments as I walked the halls at school. It was difficult; I always seemed to be the center of everyone’s attention. The bigger my belly grew, the more attention I got. Luckily, there were still a few places where people didn’t treat me like a leper.
I was going to youth group regularly again and had even gotten up the courage to volunteer for our annual homeless shelter’s food drive. I was surprised Pastor Ted had encouraged it as I had thought he wouldn’t want me representing the youth group in any way. Despite his encouragement, I still felt I would be better off participating in the behind-the-scenes stuff; I didn’t want to give our church a bad name. Although my relationship with God was being rebuilt, I couldn’t help still having moments of shame and embarrassment, of self doubt and dislike—extended moments. I figured it would be a while before I was whole again.
Fortunately, Heather had volunteered to head up the food drive, so I didn’t feel so uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong—the other kids who participated were nice to me, but I preferred being alone or with Heather. She understood how I felt and asked that I be responsible for organizing the food into groups as it came in. So I spent every Saturday putting canned tomatoes with other canned tomatoes and brown rice with white rice with wild rice. It was kind of therapeutic.
Then one Saturday morning, Heather called me. “Jennifer is sick,” was the first thing she said.
I rubbed my eyes sleepily. “Huh?”
“Jennifer is sick. She can’t come to our booth at the mall today.”
Oh no. I knew where this was going. “What about Stacy? Can’t she go?”
“She went away for the weekend.”
“What about Will?”
“He’s driving the food over to the shelter. He’s the only one who has a truck.”
I sighed deeply. “What time should I be there?”
“Ten o’clock. Thank you sooooo much.” She hung up.
It wasn’t that I was embarrassed to be seen in public with my youth group. More like, I was embarrassed for them. I was like a blight on their smooth complexion. Plus, too many people from school went to the mall on Saturdays, and I got enough of their teasing and stares at school.
I told myself to stop being such a coward and forced my fat butt out of bed. I tried to find something slimming to wear. What an absurd concept. I picked out a black maternity dress. Black was slimming on me like it was slimming on an orca. Nevertheless, I put the dress on along with a jacket I used to try to hide my middle. I figured I would just sit behind the booth and no one would be able to tell I was pregnant.
I drove my mom’s car to the mall and got there around nine forty-five before most of the stor
es opened. Heather was already there, putting our sign on the front of the table.
“Hey,” she greeted me. “Thanks so much. I know you didn’t want to be here.”
“Of course I do,” I said. “Just not as a pregnant teenager.”
She smiled. “Well, I’ll take you as you are.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You could take the food out of that box over there and stack it on the table.”
After I was done stacking the food, I sat behind the table. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here. My back is already aching.”
“Sure,” Heather said. “I’ll hand out the flyers to people in front of the booth. If they come to the booth, just answer their questions.”
A few minutes later, people started pouring into the mall. Hardly anyone stopped by the booth, and I felt bad for Heather as she tried handing flyers out to unwilling recipients. “Maybe this wasn’t the best spot.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Everyone seems like they’re in a hurry to shop.”
Heather shrugged back. “I just thought we’d get a lot of traffic here.”
“You were definitely right,” I assured her. “There’s a ton of people, but…” I trailed off as I saw her. “Oh no.”
“What?” Heather looked around.
“I knew this would happen,” I said, shaking my head. “Would it be cowardly if I hid under the table?” Heather looked around again. “What?”
“It’s Brittany,” I said, my face scrunching up involuntarily. “I really don’t feel like dealing with her today. And what? Does she live at the mall?”
“You know how to deal with someone like that, don’t you?” Heather asked, a sly look on her face.
“How?”
Heather walked away from the table directly in Brittany’s direction. “Hey Brittany,” she called.
I grimaced. Why was she calling attention to us?
The Day We Met Page 13
