Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

“What the heck, Frankie. Where are you?” are her opening words once the call connects.

“Piper.” Her name comes out on a sob.

“Oh, Frankie. Are you that sick? Do I need to leave? I can take you to the clinic.”

“The clinic can’t fix this,” I tell her through my tears. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Silence fills the line, and I have to pull my phone from my ear to check if she’s still there.

“Pregnant?” she whisper-hisses in my ear.

“Please tell me you didn’t just say that in front of everyone in the hall.” I press my hand against my forehead, shielding my eyes like it’ll help with the embarrassment of my confession.

It doesn’t.

“I stepped away,” she assures me. “Did you take a test? Maybe your period is just late.”

“I took a few tests,” I tell her. “They’re in the bathroom, but I can’t find the courage to look at them.”

“Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll check myself out and come to your house. We’ll look at them together.”

I shake my head like she can see me. “I’ll go look at them in a minute. What will I do? I can’t have a baby this young. My parents will kill me.”

Piper sighs because she knows as well as I do that this would only be a small blip on my parents’ radar. They don’t care enough to worry about their only child becoming a mother. Sure there would be disappointment, but they’d just dole out more money for groceries and supplies and be gone the next day for work. I’ve lived practically independent of them for the last two years.

“You don’t want me to come?”

“Come over after school. I’m just going to confirm what I already know and lie down. I’m so tired.”

“I think you should—”

I don’t hear another word my best friend says because my bathroom door swings open with a bang and there stands Zeke with one of the tests clenched in his hands. He looks murderous, but he has to know I’m just as angry. There’s no way I’ll let this guy blame me for this.

“Piper, I have to go.” I hang up the phone before she can argue and glare up at Zeke.

“What the fuck is this?”

I want to laugh. I want to mock him and his no one gets pregnant the first time crap that he told me that night.

“I told you this would happen!” I yell instead.

It must be positive or he wouldn’t be staring down at me like I just ruined his entire future.

“What are you doing home, anyway?”

His eyes narrow as he walks closer. I feel so tiny sitting on my bed when he looms over me.

“I skipped, but that’s the least of my worries right now.”

I must’ve been too consumed in what was going on with me to notice his truck parked on the street.

Instead of shaking me like I can tell he wants to, Zeke takes a step back and begins to pace, walking the length of my room, back and forth, back and forth. He doesn’t say a word, and the silence is killing me. I don’t know what I expected from him, but this isn’t it.

Tears streak my cheeks when he finally turns back around to face me.

“Is it mine?”

Anger simmers in my blood and it only takes seconds for it to bubble over.

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat works on a swallow, and I don’t miss the way his eyes dart from mine to my still flat stomach. I barely resist placing a protective hand over my lower belly while under his scrutiny.

“We need—” I hold my hand up to make him stop talking.

I don’t want to even hear the word we in his vocabulary. Even with his child growing inside of me there’s no we. There never will be.

“Get out,” I demand.

“What?” His hand, still clutching the test drops to his side. “Frankie.”

I snap my eyes up to him, hating the emotion in his voice. He doesn’t get to treat me like crap one second and turn around and expect me to just bend to his will the next. I’m over this back-and-forth with him. I have more to worry about now than just myself.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Room.” I enunciate each and every word, glaring at him so he can see that I’m just done with this entire conversation.

His eyes soften as his jaw ticks, but eventually he walks away. The door to my bathroom snapping shut is just another hint at the anger he’s always carrying around with him.

Tears wet my pillow when I flop down and pull my comforter over my shoulders. Sobs wrack my body, but I don’t try to stop them. Eventually the exhaustion wins and I fall into a restless sleep. I have too much to face when I wake up, and it makes me wish I could close my eyes forever.