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We only have two weeks to figure everything out. There’s no time to waste.
“I’m fine now, Mom. I swear,” I say, brushing her hands away.
“Chloe Grace, you listen to me. You are going back to bed. You need rest. You leave for school in a few weeks and I need you to be healthy.”
Giving in, I head into my room and crawl under the covers. I’ll wait until she leaves to sneak out my window and meet Wyatt. I just need to send him a message that I’m running late.
Reaching for my phone, I hear my mom scream.
“Chloe Grace Warren!”
Full name. What the hell did I do? She never uses my full name. Unless…
Turning, I find my mother standing in the doorway to my bedroom, waving the tiny stick around in the air.
I’m screwed.
“What is this?”
Closing my eyes, I prepare myself for battle. If I lie, the truth will come out eventually and things will be worse for me. If I tell the truth, my chances of her being understanding are better. Not great, but better. If there’s one thing my parents hate, it’s being lied to.
The hard part about telling them the truth now is that they still don’t know about Wyatt.
I tried to tell them once. Months ago. I knew they wouldn’t understand, that they wouldn’t approve of him, but I tried. I even mentioned him by name. They were less than enthusiastic about me hanging out with a boy from the “wrong side of town.”
That was the last time I mentioned him.
“It’s a pregnancy test, Mom.” My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. Her face contorts from anger to rage. “I’m sorry.”
“Why is there a pregnancy test hidden in your makeup drawer?”
“Why were you in my makeup drawer?”
“Looking for medicine. That’s not the point. Why do you have this and why does it show two lines?”
“Because I’m pregnant, that’s why. Because I fell in love with a boy and even with as careful as we were, I’m pregnant.”
“Joseph!”
Taking a seat on my bed as I wait for my father to answer my mother’s call, I plan my escape. My phone chimes across the room.
Wyatt.
He’s probably wondering where I am.
My mother reaches for my phone and slides her finger across the screen.
“Who is Wyatt and why is he waiting for you? Is he the one responsible for this?” she asks, waving the test around again, making me wish I hadn’t rinsed it off after the results came through.
“What’s that, Bev?” my father asks, stepping up next to my mother.
“Your daughter’s pregnant!” she screams at the top of her lungs.
Slowly turning his head in my direction, there’s a look of disbelief on my father’s face. Disbelief followed by disappointment and then finally his face mirrors my mother’s in anger.
The next hour of my life passes the slowest. After receiving a lecture, my parents formulate a plan for me, deciding the next five years of my life without asking me what I want. I’ll still go to college, but take the second semester off to have the baby. Carmen will join me in Denver to take care of the baby once it comes.
Wyatt isn’t to be a part of the baby’s life. It’s a non-negotiable term for my parents. If they’re going to help me—and if I’m being honest with myself, I need their help—he can’t be around.
