Something in the Water

Dad sees me down the hall when I start back towards the room. He sets his things aside and rises to his feet, asking for my attention. "Good news."

I slow down my pace, aware that we have different views on what falls under the category of 'good news'. "What is it?"

He gestures through the window to Dr. Stevens. She's talking with Ben, but Ben's face is inches away from the mirror on the far wall. "Your doctor says we can take you home tomorrow morning."

I'm a little distracted by Ben. He's trying to get a good look at his forehead. "That's good." I say.

"They just want to make sure you don't have any allergic reactions to that dye from earlier." He takes a seat in his uncomfortable chair, next to the somewhat organized pile of papers and books. Only Evaluators are provided with the books, and if Dad wants to find some answers to this, the books are the key - for the legal answers, anyway.

"Why are you sitting out here?" I ask, biting my tongue as he struggles to draw his eyes from my stomach to my face. "You don't have to stay in the hall."

He leans back in his chair. "No, I don't mind it out here. It's...I'm comfortable." He's still wearing the same uniform.

It reminds me. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

He shrugs. "They've agreed to give me a little time off..." He trails off uneasily, and it makes me nervous.

"You didn't tell them why, did you?" It's a stupid question, of course they know. Dad can't lie. It's part of the job.

He sees my discomfort. "They would need someone out here with you anyway, I figured you'd be more comfortable with me."

I'm starting to feel nauseous again. His cockiness about the matter is disgusting, like he doesn't see the other human life involved here. Like I'm just another case that needs to be denied. "What about Mom?"

"She's staying at the office to pick up the extra slack. She's trained for this kind of circumstance."

"Circumstance?" I ask. "You mean the one when your daughter gets pregnant and ruins everything about both of your jobs?"

He shakes his head, disappointed in me. I've seen it plenty of times. "Emma,"

"Just admit it, Dad." I don't feel the need to yell at him, so I keep my voice low and firm. "You don't want this. You're not even happy about this. Sure, we didn't expect it. We don't even know how it happened yet. But you really don't care about me, do you? All you care about is saving your job. You're an Evaluator, so you can't evaluate me, I'm your family. They'll send me off to someone else, and you and I both know I can't pass the test. Not like this. So what will they do with my baby? They'll leave that decision up to you, and the rest of them. By then, it circles right back around to you. And you know you have to make the right decision, because if you don't, you'll be known as the Evaluator who broke the law."

He seems taken back, which clarifies that my point was made. "The only reason you wouldn't pass is because you're acting like a child. A child cannot raise a child, Emma. You're old enough to at least realize that. There's nothing else wrong with you, just that you're too young."

Dr. Stevens exits the room and walks right in on our conversation. "We're done testing for now." She tells me, rubbing my shoulder. "I took more blood from Ben, but we'll just need to keep you overnight for -"

"Allergic reactions, I know." I don't look her in the eye. I feel bad for being aggressive, but it's hard to contain when you're dealing with someone so stubborn. "Thank you."

She pats my arm once more before continuing down the hall.

I don't give Dad a chance to kickstart our talk. I catch the automatic doors before they close all the way and slip inside.

Ben's still gawking at his reflection. "What are you doing?"

"Hey!" He nearly trips over his feet leaping over to me. "It's gone!"

I stare at his overjoyed expression and continue to be confused. "What's gone?"

He points to a patch of skin on his forehead, above his left eyebrow. I recognize the spot where his scar should be, only the skin is completely smoothed over the fine line.

"Your scar?" I gasp, grabbing his head and tilting the angle. "It's gone!"

"I know!" He rubs the spot until it's pinkish red. "Isn't that crazy?"

I don't understand the disappointment in my chest. "How did they do that?"

He stutters, too excited to form words. "The doctor, she put this pink stuff - it was kind of gooey, but and it smelled really weird, but she put it on my head - she rubbed it in and, like, five minutes later the scar was gone! Like it wasn't even there to begin with!"

I bite back the frown forming on my lips. The scar was sort of sentimental, if you could call it that. It was the very first thing I noticed about him when we met ; in fact, the first time we ever spoke was when I asked him about it. At the time, Ben told me got to close to a big dog, but I learned about a year ago that he just bumped it on a coffee table when he was young. We were only eleven. "Did she ask you if you wanted it gone?"

"Yeah. She noticed it when she was taking my blood and said she could remove it. She doesn't know why they didn't fix it when I was little."

I rub my hand lightly over my stomach as an instinct that I still don't understand.

"You okay?" He asks, though he's still preocupied with his forehead.

The nauseous waves are rocking around in my stomach. "Um..." I eye the private bathroom a few feet away. I don't have time to excuse myself.

I feel Ben's fingers comb my hair back behind me. He waits until I'm finished puking my guts out again. "Maybe it was the dye?" He suggests. "Allergic reaction?"

I plop back on my bottom and rake his fingers out of my hair. "Why did you do that?"

He crouches down to the floor. "I wasn't going to just sit there while you were throwing up again."

"No, Ben!" I snap at him. "Why did you let them take your scar away?" The more I look at him, the more he starts to look like a different person. It's silly, but for the feature to be gone is like a piece of him went with it.

He's confused, and after some thought, I don't blame him. "I'm sorry." He's smart to respond that way.

My breathing is uneven. I'm ready to apologize when my ears catch a murmur of voices that become clear as they pass through the automatic door. They are voices we both recognize. "Dammit." I breath.

"Emma?" Sara calls my name and peeks her head into the bathroom. She looks concerned, watching me curled up on the floor and Ben crouched beside me. "Are you okay?"

Ben catches my eyes briefly. "She's fine." He rises to his feet to meet Sara. I stay seated, rubbing my eyes with my knuckles.

"Wow, you look like hell." Sam chuckles. Ben elbows him in the ribcage, but I'm not offended. It actually makes me feel better, like I'm at home.

"What are you doing here?" I reach for Sara's hand. She lifts me carefully to my feet.

"Oh, nothing. I just visit the hospital in my spare time." She rolls her eyes with the sarcasm she shares with her brother.

Ben keeps checking for my expression to change. He isn't sure if they really know what's going on, either.

"Cute outfits." Sam admires with a smirk. He suddenly grabs Ben's face, the lanky frame odd next to Ben. He squints his eyes, trying to pick out the subtle difference.

"The scar." I say quietly. Both Sara and Sam's faces flash towards shock.

"Why is it so bad?" Ben becomes self conscious, covering the spot instead of showing it off. "It's just a scar."

Sara marches up to Ben and starts to rub her thumb furiously over the skin. "How?"

Sam slaps her hand away. "What are you trying to do, start a fire?"

I smile again, enjoying the brainless but necessary company of my closest friends. Fate seemed to have brought us together, when they supplied us with lockers in middle school that didn't exist. We were assigned four lockers in a row, and the next day we were all best friends.

"So how are you?" Sara takes my hand and leads me out of the stuffy bathroom. "Your mom scared the hell out of me."

I peek at Ben. He's too obsessed with the scar and Sam to have seen me.

"It's not that big of a deal." I say, hoping it's generic enough.

"I'm worried about you, Emma." She tells me. "It's not contagious, is it?"

There's the red flag. "Contagious?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Stomach bugs aren't usually contagious, but I was surprised to hear you were admitted. Your dad says it's just taking it's toll on you."

I draw my eyes to the window behind her head. Dad is still flipping through the Evaluator books, surfing through all the tiny flaws that can and will deny you a child. Both my parents find it necessary to keep secrets from people that are like family. Secrets to an Evaluator are deadly.

But if we ignore the secret as if it doesn't exist, we can guarantee that it is kept.

I feel the sleepless nights in my head, the clueless thoughts running through my mind, and the beautiful life inside of me all in one hit. "He's right."