Page 87 of Five Summers

The room overflows with music as we keep playing our instruments, and without realizing it, the sun disappears, and darkness envelops the world beyond.

We bring the evening to a close with a late-night jam session, indulging in pizza and savoring beers. Our band takes center stage in our conversation, but the threat of our neighbors calling the cops forces us to tone it down.

Despite Ace and I seeing our dreams come true and everything falling into place, there’s still a lingering gloom that I can’t seem to shake off.

Chapter thirty-one

Poppy

With only a week left of school, I’m counting down the days until I can finally escape this awful place and its awful bitches.

It’s odd how Jade consistently narrates Xander and Ace’s activities as if she’s bursting to tell everyone the gossip. It always hurts to hear that she’s been in touch with them. Nevertheless, I make it a point to linger near my locker every morning, just to eavesdrop on their latest updates. However, it’s always the same tired story on repeat. They’re still figuring things out, hoping that their band will get discovered any day now.

However, the biggest thing I’ve been avoiding is the fact that my period is two weeks late. Deep down, I know I should go and get a pregnancy test, but there’s a part of me that just wants toignore the whole situation. If it turns out to be positive and I am indeed pregnant, I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do. My mother keeps reminding me every day how close I came to ruining my life if she hadn’t stepped in. I’m not entirely sure what she means by that since she didn’t actually prevent anything. Xander was the one who walked away. I have no idea what I will do if I am pregnant with Xander’s child. I don’t know what my next steps should be. He hasn’t even responded to any of my texts. All I can say for certain is that my mother will be furious and make my life even more of a nightmare than it already is. I just pray to God that I’m not pregnant.

Maybe I’m not pregnant after all. It could just result from the stress I’ve been dealing with lately. Xander always used a condom, but that one night we were together, he was drunk, and now I can’t be certain. I’ve been trying to replay that night in my mind, desperately trying to remember if he used one. But I can’t say for sure. The rush of seeing him again caught me off guard when he climbed through my window. He was so wasted, the most intoxicated I’ve ever seen him, even worse than that time when his father hurt him. So maybe he wore a condom and I have nothing to worry about... or maybe he didn’t. Oh, damn, I don’t even want to think about that.

However, I can no longer avoid dealing with this matter. It is time for me to confront it directly. Today, I will gather the courage to face this issue head-on. Once school is over, I will head to the pharmacy to buy what I need. Later, when my mother is at work, I will take the test. By doing it this way, if the result turns out positive, I can spare myself from breaking down in front of her.

With the school day finally over, I have reached my breaking point with Jade’s relentless name-calling.

Sneaking into the pharmacy without drawing any attention to myself, I feel an overwhelming sense of panic as I hastily grab three pregnancy tests. Three, because I need to be absolutely certain. I quickly pay with my card, grab the three boxes, and get ready to bolt out of the pharmacy. My goal is to reach home before my mother can once again lecture me for being a few minutes late from school. It feels like she’s constantly watching my every move, suspicious that I might be up to no good.

But as I spin around, ready to dash out, I see Mrs. Reynolds standing right behind me, smiling.

Oh no. Out of everyone in this town, it had to be her standing there. Mrs. Reynolds happens to be a friend of my mother’s and also the town gossip.

“Oh, hi Poppy,” she greets me, tilting her head to catch a peek at what I'm holding.

I quickly shift my hands behind my back, attempting to hide the pregnancy tests from view, desperately hoping they go unnoticed. However, to my disappointment, it’s clear from the surprised look on her face that she’s already seen them.

Our eyes meet in an instant. “Does your mother know about this?”

Without knowing what to say to her, I instinctively blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “Oh, these aren’t mine. I’m just grabbing them for a friend,” I hastily reply.

Her eyes filled with skepticism, narrow with doubt. “Then why isn't your friend here getting them with you?” she questions, her tone revealing her disbelief.

Oh, crap. I instantly regret my impulsive response.

“Next!” The girl at the counter yells and I let out a sigh of relief, glad I don't have to answer a bunch of questions.

When Mrs. Reynolds passes, I quickly run down the aisle and rush to my car.

As I reach my car, I quickly open the door and practically dive inside, seeking refuge from the outside world. In a hurry, I stash all three pregnancy kits in the glove compartment, start the engine, and head home. Throughout the drive home, I silently pray that my mom’s nosy friend will keep today’s incident to herself. Maybe she bought my lies, or maybe she’ll just forget about it. God, I really hope so. The last thing I want is for my mother to find out that I might be pregnant.

But keeping it quiet won't matter if I'm pregnant because she'll find out, eventually. Still, until I know for sure, I’ve got to keep it quiet. I park my car in the driveway, in my usual spot, and shut off the engine.

As I lean forward to retrieve my bag from the footwell on the passenger side floor, I completely overlook my mother standing on the patio, patiently awaiting my arrival. The stern expression on her face indicates that something is amiss. Could it be possible that Mrs. Reynolds has already spilled the beans?Just stay calm, she might not know yet.

I get out of the car, sling my bag on my shoulder, and close the door.

Walking towards the house, I see her intense stare and know trouble's coming.

In an effort to deflect her intense glare, I reach into my pocket and casually pull out my phone. I begin absentmindedly scrolling through it, pretending to be deeply engrossed in something important.

After a quick moment, I slide my phone back into my pocket and rush up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Poppy,” she says, arms crossed. “Is there something you want to share?”

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