Page 53 of Something Like Sunflowers

I breathe slowly for a little bit, trying to get my dizziness under control, but it’s so hard when I get like this. I drink plenty of water, and I eat healthily, so I should be fine.

But…I can’t tell Mom I’m growing a child inside me. Not until Hunter graduates and gets that house. I know what will happen if not. I’ll get shipped off somewhere as soon as Mom calls Dad. They’ll separate us…force me to adopt our child out to some family, convince me I’m too young, that we’re too young.

But we aren’t. We are old enough to raise this baby that we’ve already decided on our own to love. And I don’t care what anyone but me and Hunter have to say on the matter.

I’ve never felt as young as my age, anyhow. And who wants to be old and wrinkly when your baby is young and requires energy? I’ve thought through everything, and I really don’t care about any of the alternatives. I want my baby.

We want our baby.

And if Hunter is holding down a steady job and has an offer on that house…we’ve already saved up a quarter of the downpayment as it is by sneaking our money away into a savings account that we convinced old Abe at the feed store into setting up for us. You had to be eighteen, and we couldn’t tell either of our parents. Since Hunter turns eighteen in a few weeks, and he’s the only one who knows the truth, he said he’d keep our secret. He set up the account for us months ago.

I don’t exactly know why. Maybe he understands what it’s like to be young and have the whole world tell you how your life will be before you’re allowed to figure it out for yourself. Whatever his reason, I’m grateful to him. Mom’s a lost cause. But if Dad sees we’ve already stepped up without them and figured it out, I think it will all be okay.

That’s why I can’t let anyone know. And Mom is already awful about counting my calories and doing weigh-ins as it is. I’ve been sneaking as many extra portions of veggies and meat as I can, but it’s hard when she gives me the eyebrow of question with each extra spoonful on my plate.

‘Every extra scoop is another inch of fabric I must pay for. Don’t want to lose to Lemon Perkins on a matter of waistlines, now, do you?’ I can practically hear her say it. She’s said it so many times before. But I’m feeding two now, and I really couldn’t care less about Lemon Perkins or the damn Rodeo crown when I think about my baby growing inside me.

So I sneak as many as I possibly can. I’ve managed to gain only three pounds while my baby measures six, miraculously, and the doctor Abel found us at the free clinic in Centerville, just across the tracks, thinks the baby is doing just fine growth-wise. She said at my age, it’s normal not to gain much weight at all and just look like you swallowed a basketball. Weird way of putting it, but as I stare down at my baggy Hunter-Hoodie, I’m beginning to wonder if my basketball is big enough.

It hardly looks like a bump at all. It’s small enough that my family hasn’t even noticed it yet. The doctor said I need to make sure I’m eating enough to power myself and the baby’s growing body, but I’m not always sure I am when I get dizzy and sick like this.

I read most morning sickness stops after the second trimester. It feels like mine never will.

But every pregnant woman gets sick. It’s times like these when I wish my mother was normal. That I had someone I could share these insecurities with.

But she’s not.

And I don’t.

So, I shake it off and wipe my face on my sleeve. Steadying myself, I look into the mirror and smile back at the girl in front of me. She’s puffy and tired looking, and far younger than she should be while growing a living being inside her, but she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her. Because for once in her life, there’s purpose aside from fancy dresses or smiles for the crowd.

There’s a whole life ready to be molded and set free upon the world. A heart to shape and hold that comes from both me and the boy I’ve loved since before I knew the meaning of the word. We might have made her by accident, but nothing has ever felt more purposeful.

Life has never been more perfect.

Chapter 20

Devyn

No, Penelope! You gotta stay with your babies!”

The little girl’s voice fills my ears as I’m rounding the corner of the bright red lean-to stationed a few hundred feet left of the farmhouse.

Now that I’ve had a plate full of bacon and seen the note Hunter left next to it, I’m feeling a tad less anxious about what may or may not have happened last night.

Ponygirl,

Two Rules for today…

1. Don’t freak out—we’re fine.

2. Wear your hair down again.

When you’ve had your fill of bacon, and you better eat the whole damn plate, like I know you want to, come find me in the barn.

Don’t run, Dev. Please.

Love,

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