Page 3 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

Her eyes don’t quite want to meet mine. Instead, they keep darting around the small bathroom. Fixating on the broken floor tile in the corner. On the stickers plastered to the mirror. The hand towels threatening to fall out of the dispenser.

She brushes past me and washes her hands before digging in her pocket. She pulls out a mini disposable toothbrush.

“Yeah,” she says at my inquiring look. “I’ve taken to stuffing these in my pockets before I leave my dorm.” She rips open the packet. “Being pregnant is not for the weak.”

I swear she goes a little green when she says the word pregnant.

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” she says after she’s cleaned her teeth.

“Bertie.” My voice comes out gruffer than I intend. “Stop apologizing. This isn’t your fault.”

She inhales a shaky breath and then her bottom lip trembles. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out what could possibly have her so terrified.

She laughs, but there’s not an ounce of humor in the sound. “Of being pregnant. A mom? What if I suck at this? I mean, I always thought I would be a mom someday, and now that this day is here, I’m just … worried, I guess. Raising a human is a tall order, and let’s be real, there are a lot of shitty parents out there. I don’t want to be one of those.” She presses a hand to her head. “I’m giving myself a headache.”

I stand there, frozen and speechless, because this is new territory for me and I have no clue what to tell her to make her feel better. I’d like to wrap my arms around her and give her a hug, but I’m not sure she’d want that either, so my arms hang listlessly at my sides.

“Are you scared?” Her big blue eyes stare up at me like she’s searching for answers on my face.

“I think it’s still too new for me to be scared,” I admit softly.

She nods, letting out a sigh. “I haven’t told my parents yet.” Her face contorts like she’s sucked on a sour lemon. “That’s probably not going to go over well.”

“We’ll tell them together.”

Shock registers on her face. “Seriously?”

“I’m not going to make you do that by yourself.”

“What about your mom?”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “You’ve met my mom. She won’t make a big deal out of it. I’m fine telling her on my own if you don’t want to.”

She turns to her reflection in the mirror and pulls something else out of her pocket. Lip gloss.

“Let’s tell her together. It’ll be good practice for me before we tell mine.”

“Are you sure?”

She smooths her hair back and jerks her chin up with determination. “Absolutely. When do you want to tell her?”

I pretend to think it over even though I already know. “Today.”

Her mouth pops open in a comical way. I’d laugh if I didn’t think she’d take it the wrong way. “Today?”

“Yep.” I pop the ‘p’ and rock back on my heels. “I don’t keep secrets from my mom and considering how far along you are the sooner she knows, and your parents, too, the better.”

“Your mom is going to hate me for not telling you sooner,” she groans, pressing a hand to her head. I narrow my eyes in concern.

“Do you have any medicine?” I ask suddenly.

“Huh?”

“For your headache.”

“Oh, yeah, in my backpack.”