Small Talk

"What's in the bag?" my mother asks me when I attempt to do a fly-by and sneak past her, true to the typical teenage-drama shows.

I continue walking up the stairs nonchalantly, holding my bag out to a more noticeable degree, so she doesn't think I'm hiding anything. I am, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Grew a desert plant in Ag," I explain without even looking at her. "I'll show you when I get him into a real pot."

I make a mental note to buy a desert plant.

"Him?" my mother laughs, pinching the side of my dad's white t-shirt and folding the corner, so the whole shirt, miraculously, folds itself. "Of course you'd name your plant."

I roll my eyes in faux annoyance, even though my mom can't see. She knows when I roll my eyes though. She says she can feel the "teen attitude" in the air.

My guitar case is heavy on my back, though it's only an acoustic (some cheap brand at that, but hey, it was a hundred and twenty dollars less than a Gibson, and I'm broke), and my schoolbag weighs down my right shoulder, annoyingly slamming against my thigh as I clamber up the steps.

When I get to my room I don't even bother turning the lights on, the daylight seeping through my shitty, nearly-shear curtains provides enough to see, and I throw my schoolbag on my bed, my guitar case-more gently- dropped on the floor. With the brown paper bag, I lock myself in my bathroom, thanking the god of whatever construction workers made my house, for connecting the restroom with my bedroom.

There's a pair of blue lace panties thrown on the floor, and it kind of comes at me like a stab in the chest- they're my girlfriend's underwear, and that last thing I want is to think about her.

I take the boxes out of the bag, plastic Solo cup in hand. Maybe if I just pee in the cup and stick them all in the cup, I'll know faster.

So I do. It's painful to unwrap the little stick thingies, and the two minute wait is agonizing. No sixteen year-old girl should have to buy pregnancy tests for herself.

"Keep it together, Alex," I tell myself in the mirror, face flushed and on the verge of tears.

The timer beeps, and I check the cup.

Positive.

I resist the urge to vomit again, instead dumping my pee in the toilet and flushing, throwing the dumb tests in the paper bag, and throwing the paper bag in the trash can, taking the trash can bag out, tying the ends.

"You never take the trash out," my mother muses when I reply to her question about my actions with a trash bag.

I bite my tongue before I speak so my cheeks flush slightly. "It smells from my uh," I pause the lie. "It smells like period blood."

My mother wrinkles her nose and waves me off, focusing her attention back to some rip-off Bachelor TV show.

When I'm safely back in my room I pretend the last fifteen minutes never happened. Or, try to. It's kind of hard when I'm aware of a baby in my stomach. Or uterus. Whatever.

I give up on studying for Economics and Literature within forty five minutes. I do better under pressure anyways- surely I can pass a measly quiz without studying.

I'm pregnant.

I don't know what to think. What will my parents think?

What will Matt think?

I tell myself not to worry about other people's opinions, because I have a little person inside of me that I'm going to have to take care of one day. Or give up. Or...no, there aren't any other options.

I freak out.

Tests could be wrong, I reassure myself. Don't think about it until you're sure.

Three tests. I'm pretty sure.

I'll go to the doctor's, I plan. I'll ask someone to drive me, and I'll get checked and go from there.

Who would drive me? Who do I trust enough to tell, or not tell, in this case.

Fuck, I cheated on my girlfriend.

I make a grab for my phone, where it should be, on my nightstand, before I remember that I'm kind of grounded because I went to party with alcohol. I didn't drink or anything, but Matt certainly did, and coming home at two am with your drunk girlfriend certainly raises suspicion. Matt hasn't come around much since then.

"Where are you off to? Dinner's in an hour," my mother says, stopping me in my tracks at the door.

"Jack's," I respond, opening the front door.

"Alex, sweetie," she smiles, "Do you have a little crush on Jack?"

I resist the urge to laugh, instead shaking my head.

\\

"Um."

"Oh, God, Alex, fuck," Jack swears, as I step back into the hallway, face flushed. From the other side of the wall I hear him put some pants on, or at least underwear.

"It's safe," he tells me, and I cautiously enter the room, taking note of the pile of clothes on the floor, electric guitar irresponsibly laying in the middle of the carpet, papers and homework strewn beneath pillows and extra blankets.

"What number is this time?" Jack grins, spread across his bed with his feet hitting the bed board. He hasn't bothered to put his shirt back on, I note.

"Sixth time," I groan, throwing my bag on him and sitting on the bed. "You need to lock your door."

He blushes slightly, then sort of massages his face, looking at me seriously.

"So what brings you to my house unannounced? Did you miss my mom's cookies?" He takes a look at my face.

"Shit, you didn't break up with Matt, did you?"

For a second I stare at him.

"I didn't break up with Matt," I finally say. "I need you to do me a favor."

"A favor," Jack says slowly. I know that he's thinking up a ton of weird favors I could impossibly ask for. "What kind of favor?"

"Tomorrow, after school," I tell him, "I need you to drive me to Towson."

"What's in Towson?"

I'm silent. Jack stares at me intently, and his eyes cast downwards. For a moment I think he's staring at my boobs, and I'm about to yell at him, but then I realize he's staring at my abdomen.

"You're pregnant," he states.

I give a slight nod.

"Wow."

I close my eyes and lean back against the headboard.

This time it's really quiet. I start to cry the really quiet tears to match. Jack turns around when I let out a muffled sob, sitting up to wrap me in his arms.

He makes soothing shushing noises, and tell me not to cry, which would normally piss me off, but right now I really don't care.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispers. "Tomorrow we'll take you to the doctor's, alright? And then I'll call Zack and ask him to bring a girl friend of his, and we'll all get pizza, yeah?"

I nod into his shoulder in agreement.

When I finally settle down, I reach for my book bag, pulling out my Trig homework and smiling weakly. Jack rolls his eyes and reaches across the bed, pulling up his textbook from the floor. We work on it for a while.

//

When it's time to go home, Jack gives me a tight hug, walking me to my house. As I unlock the door, he speaks quietly, and I have to ask him to repeat himself.

He looks kind of scared.

"I said, uh, isn't - Matt's a girl."

I give him a blank look.

"Matt didn't get you pregnant," he says. "You slept with someone else."