It was so clear that I decided something.
I decided that I could call myself names and cry about what happened. I could call it a mistake and curse at the fates. I could punish myself like I’ve always done. Or I could wipe my tears and take charge.
I could make a plan. I could be strong like my mom was and do what needs to be done.
Besides, punishing myself in the past has never worked, has it?
Something that he taught me himself.
So I’m not going to do it again, and this time I have someone else to think about other than myself.
So I’ve been reading up at the library.
Apparently, they have pregnancy books. Like actual pregnancy books, not biology stuff. I wonder who thought to add those to the catalog, at a girl’s reform school no less.
But anyway, I’ve been reading and I’ve been making lists.
Because I read somewhere that you should make a list when you’re anxious. And I’m anxious. Books say that anxiety is a common symptom of being pregnant.
So I can’t eat meat. I’m throwing up day and night. I’m anxious and emotional. And I cry a lot too.
But it’s okay.
It’s fine.
I’ve got a plan.
It’s not a perfect plan, but this is all I have.
My girls seem to like the plan, but they hate parts of it.
“I really think you should reconsider,” says Wyn in a hushed voice because we’re at the library. “I really think there has to be another way.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, trying to calm her down. “It’s going to be okay.”
Wyn doesn’t listen. “Remember what Salem was saying the other day? She could talk to Principal Carlisle for you. I bet if Salem talked to her, we could find a way. I mean, I don’t think Salem’s her favorite person right now but still.”
Wyn’s talking on Salem’s behalf because Salem’s not here right now.
She’s taking a few days off.
Because remember the problems that she had? Or rather the problem: Arrow Carlisle.
Yeah, that problem blew up last weekend and resulted in what I think — and both Poe and Wyn agree — has to be the biggest ever scandal at St. Mary’s School for Troubled Teenagers.
Well, until they all find out about me.
That I’m pregnant.
But anyway, that’s the bad news, the scandal. The good news is that I think — and again both Poe and Wyn agree — that the soccer god, Arrow, might be crushing on her as well.
I mean, we’re not sure because he hasn’t said anything — because he’s a guy and he’s stupid — but I’m really crossing my fingers that he soon will.
“Okay, fuck talking to people,” says Poe loudly before she remembers where we are. Then with a lower voice, “We could try to keep it a secret for a while. I mean, you’re not gonna start showing until your seventh month or something anyway. By then it will be too late.”
I can’t believe she said that.
Especially when we have all these pregnancy books open at the table in front of us.
I look around to make sure no one is listening in before telling my dear friend, “It’s the fifth month. You start showing in your fifth.” I point to the book. “It says so right here: ‘you’re glowing and you’re showing.’ Which if my math is right is going to come around in March.”
Then before they can all start arguing again, I shut it down. I tell them that this is the only way.
But I have to do the hardest thing first.
I have to tell my brothers. Tomorrow when I go visit them.
That I’m pregnant with the baby of the guy they all hate.
Because I only have one week before I have to tell him, and this time I’m not going to run.
I’m going to face it all head-on.
***
I think I’m going to throw up.
In the middle of the dining table. At our house.
Because my brother Conrad has ordered all my favorite things. From my favorite restaurant no less.
Bacon and chicken. And mac and cheese.
There’s so much mac and cheese, and until I found it on the table, I didn’t know that it was one of my triggers. And now I’m going to ruin it all, all the effort he’s put in for me.
But it’s more than that.
It’s more than food.
It’s the fact that my other brother is here. The one I had no idea was going to be home this weekend and the one I’m dreading telling this piece of information that I have the most.
Ledger.
In fact he was the one who came to pick me up at school, completely shocking me. And then he whipped out a large pink box from Buttery Blossoms with enough cupcakes for my friends and I threw my arms around him and started sobbing, shocking him in return.
But anyway, here we are now, sitting at the table, eating dinner.
Well, they’re eating dinner and I’m just staring at it or at the soft blue wall that has all our photos, from childhood to high school.
Actually, now that I notice, the baby photos are only mine.
Me in a tiny tutu and ribbons; me with my mom at the park; me eating cupcakes with a six-year-old Ledger; me smiling toothily at the camera while sitting on a teenage Con’s shoulders; me smiling toothily at the camera again while teenage Shepard and Stellan kiss my fat baby cheeks.
And then there are pictures of me through the years, all grown up, and I realize that this is my life. In pictures.
This wall contains my entire life as I’ve known it.
With my brothers.
I’m the centerpiece and I never noticed this before.
I never noticed how cherished I am.
I mean, I have, but this is something else.
This is tangible proof and tears well up in my eyes and I’m about to burst out crying but I’m stopped by Con’s statement.
“You’re not eating.”
He’s looking at my plate with a frown and I blurt out, “I’m eating.”
He looks up at my false answer. “Is there something wrong?”
Yes.
“No. Of course not.”
“I ordered your favorites.”
“I know,” I tell him, nodding as I fist my hands in my lap. “And they are. They’ve always been. As you know. So thank you.”
“So what’s the problem?” he asks and my heart starts to beat faster.
My stomach churns and I feel the bile rising up my throat.
This isn’t the first time Con has ordered me my favorite foods when I’ve come for a visit. He might be angry at me for the things I’ve done in the past, but he’s also my brother. My biggest protector. The only father figure I’ve ever known, and he takes care of me despite everything.
It always makes me feel guilty that despite making his life harder, he still looks out for me.
And my guilt is even stronger tonight. My dread too.
Because I have to tell him.
I know it’s going to piss him off. It’s going to make him angrier at me than he already is. Maybe he’ll think I’m stupid like I was two years ago.