The Diary of Alice Quinn

My name is Alice Victoria Quinn. I was born on the first day of September 1993, in a small town in the state of Pennsylvania. I’m seventeen years old. And I also happen to just be six months pregnant. Shocker, right?

Well, it wasn’t always like this, I could tell you that. A year ago I was a happy-go-lucky high school sophomore who had the world at her feet. You could say that I might have been “the popular girl.” Even if I was sophomore, the upperclassmen knew my name because of my older brother Ben being a football legend in our school. But that was just a small factor. I was already the student council vice-president, I was captain of the cheerleading squad and I was at the top of all my classes. I wasn’t just another pretty face; I was Alice, the stunning, pale brunette with gleaming hazel eyes. I was Alice, the girl everyone admired and respected.

But I wasn’t known as just Alice. Frequently, my name had an attachment: Zach.

The first time I met was when I was five and he was seven, when they had moved into the house right next to us that has recently been left vacant. We were told that, when we first met in Zach’s living room when my family visited, we could not keep our eyes of each other as he was standing casually beside his father and I was hiding from behind my mother’s skirt. He would always tease me about that when we were older.

From that moment, we grew up together and went through everything together. He was my Zach, my best friend and my sweetheart. When I was thirteen and he was fifteen, he finally kissed me behind the bleachers of our school. (I dared him to kiss me when I was in second grade but he ended up running away when we were just inches away from each other.) And we officially dated since then.

It was always Zach and Alice. We were like a package deal; everyone knew that. There was no Zach when there was no Alice. He was my knight in shining armor, and I was his princess. He and I belonged together, that was that.

Zach was the type of guy that brought you your favorite kind of flowers every day. Or at least, when he can. Personally, I love daises. I would always find daises in my locker or on my bed along with a note that had song lyrics or a poem scribbled on it with his messy handwriting.

Everyone loved him. He was nice and kind to everyone, no exceptions. Zach was caring and patient and respectful, even to the ones who didn’t deserve respect. Often I called him my Superman because, no matter what, he always put the ones he cared about before him.

I’m going to cut to the chase here and tell you that yes, he is the father of the baby I’m carrying inside of me at the moment. How did that happen, exactly? Well, I don’t want to go through every detail of it. That would be terrible for you. Instead, I’m going to tell what happened before and after.

We had not originally planned on doing the deed. Because I was raised in a devout Christian family we agreed that we were going to take the straight, clean road; we were going to wait until after we get married which would be right after we graduate college. But I guess the pressures of being a teenager in high school, the excitement of being in a “hardcore” party and the slightly more than recommended amount of alcohol and drugs in our systems led us to do it.

It was some junior’s house, and his or her parents were gone for the week.

Honestly, it quite uncomfortable and painful. It was absolutely not like those love scenes in the movies where everything is sexy and romantic. Our atmosphere wasn’t any help, either. If you could count someone’s dusty old tree house.

The stupid thing was, we were too drunk to remember to use protection. And we had not even remembered we did it the next day.