Double Time (26 page)

“
I’ve gotten better. It doesn’t faze me much now. I just get over it and move on.” I am absolutely being honest. I don’t let it get to me anymore. Not like I used to.

She rolls her eyes at me. “You’ve had a lot more practice than me. Jon has only come and gone twice. Alex has been doing this for almost three years. Plus, you haven’t …” her voice trails off and her face tightens with emotion.

“
I haven’t what?” I haven’t done a lot of things.

She looks away from me at first. Then, slowly and warily, she gazes at me with concern. “You and Alex haven’t … you know … done it.”

“
And you and Jon Jon have?” I mutter, looking around in every direction to make sure the coast is clear. This is not the kind of conversation I want others to hear.

She doesn’t have to answer my question. Her eyes speak for her better than any words can.

A million questions come to mind. “How do you know you’re not pregnant?”

“
We used protection. Double protection. I’m on the pill and he used a condom,” she whispers.

“
Wow. I didn’t know you were on the pill.”

“
My mom made me when Jon and I got together. When he left, I just kept taking it.”

“
So you guys were doing it before he left too?”

“
No. The night he came home was the first time,” she confesses.

“
And you’re sad because you guys did that and now he’s gone. I’m sorry.”

“
Don’t be. I knew he was going to leave, but I did it anyway.” She walks away from me and takes a seat on a bench.

Oh hell. I’m gonna kill Steph. What do I say?

“
Was it, at least, good?” Making her laugh might make her feel a tiny bit better.

She smiles, dabbing the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. “Not the first time, but all the times after that, it was.” Her grin spreads, and she raises her brows up and down.

“
All the times? You skank.”

We’re on our way back into class when my phone chimes.

Meggie. I need to talk. Please.

Never in a kabillion years would I expect to get a text from Amy.

Wht do u want?

I’m in the parking lot. Come meet me. Its important. I need u. Dont tell the girls.

I dont want to talk to u.

I know you dont and you know I wouldnt ask if I really didn’t need you. Please.

Okay, she’s scaring me.

B right thr.

I run back into class, give Keesh some lame excuse about going to see Mrs. Flores, and run out to meet Amy.

As I make my way to the parking lot, it occurs to me there is no way I’m going to be able to find her quickly in this sea of cars. I power walk past a few rows but don’t see her. I’m just about to take out my cell when I see a flash of blonde hair and waving hands. Changing directions, I practically jog over to her.

“
What do you want?” I ask her, rudely. But then I get a good look at her face and realize something is really wrong. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, not a trace of makeup on her, and her hands are trembling. “What is it? What’s wrong, Amy? Are you okay?”

She sniffles for a few breaths before she sucks in a gulp of air and exhales slowly. She clasps her hands together, and worry fills her eyes. “I need your help, Meggie.”

Seeing her like this almost erases everything we’ve been through. My mind races, replaying the evil highlights, yet I can’t walk away. “Sure.” I put my hands on hers. “What is it? What can I do?”

Amy looks down at her feet. She’s never been one to look away from anything. This is so not good. “I need you to come with me. But you can’t tell anyone about this. Not Keesha, not Stephanie, not Alex. Not anyone. I know I have no right to ask, but I really need someone and you’re the only one I trust. Can you do this?”

“
Do what? I have no idea what I’m agreeing to.”

“
Just get in the car first, and I’ll tell you on the way.” A chirp sounds, and then the click of locks. She walks away from me and opens up the driver’s side of a red Toyota Corolla. Wow, she drives now. And she has her own car. Why am I surprised?

I walk around to the other side of the car and get in. There’s silence for ten minutes until she pulls into a small strip mall, which is vaguely familiar.

“
You remember this place, don’t you?” she says, putting the car in park and cutting the engine.

“
Family planning, right?” I glance over at her, hands shaking even more, and tears streaming down her face. “Are you pregnant?” Who would’ve ever thought I’d ask that question two times in one day and be completely serious? It would be awesome if the answer was “no” both times, but I think it’s safe to say that’s not going to happen in this case.

“
Yeah. Please don’t tell anyone. Please.” Her eyes are begging me.

“
Sure, Amy. You can trust me. I won’t say a thing.” I wait as she catches her breath, again. “What are we doing here though? It’s a little late for pills or condoms.”

The look in her eyes could shatter your dreams. The look of utter sadness, complete defeat.

“
Oh no. Oh shit. You’re going to have an abortion?
Now
?” She doesn’t say anything, but her answer is written all over her face. “And you want me to go with you? Isn’t this something that should be done with your family? Your mom?”

“
Are you crazy? You know how my parents would react. I can’t tell them. I haven’t told anyone. I’ve been dealing with this all on my own. I’ve had counseling with the nurses, but that’s it. I couldn’t imagine telling anyone else. But then the time came, and I just couldn’t come on my own. I needed someone here with me. Please, Meggie. Come with me. I’m so scared.”

Twenty Eight

This is not happening. My feet feel heavy as I follow Amy into the clinic. I’ve been here before but, under these circumstances, the place feels completely foreign. Amy checks in at the counter, signing in on a chart, and finds a seat near the door. Is she gonna bolt? I sit next to her, feeling the subtle buzz of my chair as her body shakes with nerves. I reach out and hold her hand. She looks at me, the sides of her mouth curving down into a deep frown. She shifts in her seat and rests her head on my shoulder.

And we wait. Soft whimpers can be heard every few minutes. She doesn’t make a move, her hand still in mine, squeezing tightly, and her head like a ton of bricks weighing on my shoulder.

Until her name is called.

“
Amy, we’re ready for you,” a woman, in pastel pink scrubs holding a clipboard, says softly. We both stand. “I’m sorry, honey, but you can’t come back with her,” she tells me. “We can come and get you when she goes to recovery if it’s okay with her.”

Amy nods to the nurse and turns to me. I brush her tear-soaked hair from her face, then give her a quick hug. “I’m here if you need me.”

And with that, she disappears behind the big white door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Which is not a good thing. Not a good thing at all.

I pace the empty waiting room, grateful I don’t have a room full of eyes staring at my near nervous breakdown. I stand in front of a wall display housing pamphlets for everything from getting your period to spermicidal gel to living with chlamydia. I scan up and down the rows until I find one that says, “You’re Pregnant: What Are Your Options?”

Taking a copy in my hands, I study the cover. No images, just the words printed in block letters. I go back to my seat and begin reading.

First, the pamphlet informs teens they should communicate with their parents, assuming they’re not in any danger. I’ve always thought my mom would kick my ass if I came home and said I was pregnant. But deep down, I know that wouldn’t be the case. She’d be there to support me, offer her advice, and I’d always know I wasn’t in it alone. Amy’s family is a different story. They’d probably go old school and ship her off to some boarding school for nine months. She’d come back without anyone knowing she’d had a baby, with their perfect image still intact. I can’t imagine talking to her mom about this so I get why Amy didn’t want to tell her.

Options. There are several. Teen mothers can always keep their babies. My body tightens with stress. The thought of having a baby at sixteen makes me want to throw up. There is no way in hell I could take care of a baby on my own. I don’t have a job, I have to go to school, and I’m just a little selfish. As I should be. I’m only a teenager. I don’t want that kind of responsibility. But then again, I guess if you think you’re responsible enough to have sex, you should be ready for the consequences. And when it comes to sex, those consequences last a lifetime.

Fuck. This is too much.

More options. Adoption. Abortion. The two words are so similar, yet they’re so far away from each other on the pregnancy option spectrum.

If Amy were to tell her parents, I’d guess they’d go with adoption. She has to know this. And like I said earlier, they’d send her away. And she doesn’t need that. She needs help. She needs someone to talk to, not for her family to abandon her. She’s shit out of luck either way. She didn’t tell them and she’s still alone.

Except for me. But how much can I really help?

Abortion? I just don’t see how she can do it. I don’t think I could. The pamphlet says every girl’s situation is different and they shouldn’t feel judged. I’m not judging Amy. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be my choice.

I can’t believe she can just walk in here without a parent permission slip or anything. No adults needed. No parental consent. It’s crazy. What if something goes wrong? My cell feels like it’s burning a hole through my hand. Nope. If Amy doesn’t want to tell her mom, I sure as hell am not going to make that call.

I read on to find out there are different kinds of abortions. She could’ve taken a pill. That doesn’t sound so bad, but since the nurse mentioned recovery, I don’t think she’s getting off that easy. She must be too far along. Oh crap. The other two types are a little more involved. Okay, a lot more. I finish reading only to find myself even more sad, confused, and grossed out than I was before.

Damn. Why did I agree to this? I know, I should really stop whining about being here. I’m just creeped out. This is fucking crazy! I have about a million emotions flying around in my brain, and I’m not even the one who’s dealing with this. I need to pull myself together. I’m all Amy has right now, and for some insane reason, she chose me to help her through this mess. This may not be an ideal situation but it is what it is.

My phone buzzes with a text from Keesha.

Are u crazy!!! Ditching before AP Exams???

Shit. The test is just a few weeks away.

Not ditching. Had stuff to take care of. Call u l8r

I need to think of some “stuff” by tonight. It’s going to be a challenge keeping this from them. Not because I want to tell Amy’s secret, but because it’s hard to lie.

The door swings open and the sweet motherly woman in the pink scrubs is back. “Megan, you can come in now.”

I follow her to an exam room. This isn’t what I’d expected. It looks just like a regular room you’d have a regular doctor’s appointment in. Amy is sitting up on the exam table, fully clothed, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“
I’ll be in to check on you in a few,” the nurse says, before closing the door on her way out.

Amy puts her hands up. “It’s done.” Her bottom lip quivers. I go to her and she hugs me. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“
No problem.” She releases me and I sit on a stool. “How do you feel?”

“
Just a little cramped. Like period cramps. Other than that, I’m okay. They gave me some medicine so I won’t get an infection or a fever. Once she comes back and takes my vitals, I can leave as long as nothing is wacky.”

“
Leave? Already?” I should know this. I read the information. It just doesn’t seem right. She just had a baby vacuumed out of her uterus and they’re just gonna send her back to school. That’s nuts.

“
I’m fine. It’s already too late to go to sixth period, so I can drop you off at home if you want.” Her tears have dried and her nose is a lighter shade of pink.

“
Okay.” I stare at my fingernails, push back on a few cuticles, wondering what comes next. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to do something?”

“
I said I’m fine, okay? Just leave it alone!”

“
Why are you yelling at me? You asked me to come with you and I did. This can’t be easy for you. I wanna help you.” I search her face for some sort of feeling, emotion. Only now, she seems like a blank slate.

“
Gosh, Meg. I’m sorry I brought you here. Obviously, I made a mistake.”

More than once, I almost point out, but stop myself, that it’s not like I asked to tag along. Going with my ex-best friend, who screwed my boyfriend, to get an abortion was not high on my list of things to do before I graduate. But here I am, willing to be a good friend when I sure as heck don’t have to be.