Page 50 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

“Soda?” His large hands squeeze my arms tightly, but I can barely see him through the tears flooding my eyes. I can barely breathe through the snot and hiccups, and when he pulls me against his chest, my sobs rip through my chest and my stomach revolts and sings nauseatingly. “Tell me quick, honey. What’s the matter? Is it Scotch? Is he hurt?”

I shake my head and bury my face against his chest. I smear boogers on his shirt, but I can’t even find it in myself to care. “He’s not hurt. He’s at school, I think.”

“Why are you walking in the heat with no shoes?” His eyes snap down to my feet, then turning quickly, he rushes me to his car, pulling the passenger door open and dropping me in heavily. My stomach tweaks with pain, but he picks my feet up and sets them inside and kneels down in front of me so our eyes meet. “What happened, honey?”

“Sam and I got married.”

He smiles handsomely, nodding his head as his long hair falls into his eyes. “I know. He told us.”

“He did?”

“Of course he did,” he chuckles. “He told me he was gonna marry you back in ninth grade. Bet your ass he told me the second he sealed the deal.” His hand comes down over top of mine softly, and his soft voice melodically murmurs, “But why are you crying?”

I look up into his eyes for a long minute. I’m scared to tell him. I’m scared to keep it in. I’m scared saying it out loud changes everything, when really, everything is already changed.

I clear my throat nervously. “I’m pregnant.”

No longer smiling, no longer semi-relaxed, his eyes snap wide and his back straight. “You… When?”

“I just found out. I need to find him. I need him to tell me we’ll be okay.”

Angelo’s thick brows draw low over his sympathetic eyes. “He’ll make it okay, Sammy. He’s one of the best guys I know. He’ll make it okay.”

“My mom wants me to get an abortion.”

“You wouldn’t!” Angelo gulps and his face turns ghostly white. “You wouldn’t do that… Would you?”

“No!”

“That’s my brother’s baby too. He gets a say in this--”

“I won’t abort, Ang. I’d never abort. My mom was just shouting at me, I was vomiting and she said she was gonna call the police… I hit my mom.”

Angelo takes my still stinging hand in his, turning it over and rubbing his thumb gently across the reddened skin. “Good for you, honey. Your mother is a bitch. This is a decision for you and Scotch only, no one else, and definitely not her.” His eyes drop to my still flat belly. “That’s a real person in there, a mix of two of my best friends. That’s not wrong, Soda. We’ll all rally, and we’ll make this better.”

I sit back in the passenger seat as a new wave of nausea rolls over me. I still haven’t eaten today, my tongue is dry and caked with vomit, and I have a crying headache like nothing I’ve ever felt before. “Can you call him, Ang? I was looking for him, but I forgot my cell at home.”

He leans into the car, reaching across me until he grabs his phone, then rests back in his crouched position and dials. I close my eyes to help block out the sick, but my ears are wide open as I listen to the dial tone, then Sam’s happy voice. “You’re gonna get detention, asswipe. You’re late again.”

“Dude, you need to play hooky. Come to my house… Actually, no. Come to the shed.”

“What’s up? Why’s no one at school today? Sammy isn’t here either. And Marc is AWOL.”

“I got Soda with me. We need you to come to us. She can’t come to school today.” I open my eyes to find Angelo’s on my bare feet again, pityingly staring at the reddened heels and old nail polish. “She’s not feeling well.”

I instantly hear the noise of a slamming locker, then Sam’s hurried, “I’ll meet you at The Shed. Have you got keys? Mine are at home.”

“I’ve got keys.”

“She’s right there with you?”

“Yeah, she’s sitting in my car.”

“In your car-- Lemme talk to her.”

Angelo passes his phone without a single moment’s hesitation, and with shaking hands and sweat dripping down my spine, I clear my throat. “Hey.”

“Ricci? What’s happening, baby?”

---