Page 36 of Pieces

“Huh?” she says.

“An elephant remembers everything.”

“Okay, well, that’s what you are, and you’re telling me you can perfectly remember your first kiss with Bradley Clarke in third grade, but you can’t remember if you skipped your period this month after you lost your virginity?” she cries, her voice rising along with my panic. “Oh my god, you used condoms, right?”

“Of course we did. Both times,” I manage to say, even though the air is disappearing rapidly around me. My period has never been something I could just ignore. I usually pop painkillers like candy and use heating pads at night to help with the cramps, so why the heck can’t I remember? I counted backward, my mind racing. Seven, almost eight weeks, since the concert. That night, Hudson’s smile, his hands… My stomach twists. Oh god, it can’t be...

“Okay,” I mumble, my voice muffled by my hands. “Maybe I’ll…check. Just to be sure.”

“Yeah, you should definitely check,” Liv says. “And then call me back immediately, because if I’m gonna be an aunt, I need to be the first to know.”

Hearing her mention being an aunt knocks the little remaining air right out of me. That can’t be. No, it’s not possible. It’s not. Because if she’s joking about being an aunt, then that makes me a…

“Liv.” My voice trembles as a wave of dizziness washes over me. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she says quickly, shifting into her calm voice. “Daph, it’s going to be okay. Breathe for me, alright?”

I try, but my chest feels like it’s caving in. My breath stutters out, shallow and uneven, as I lean forward.

“I’m serious, Daph. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re fine. Everything’s fine,” Liv coaxes, the kind of steadiness in her voice that only comes after years of talking me off cliffs. Ones not usually quite this steep and terrifying; they’re usually academic, but not this time. “Do it with me: one, two… Yeah, like that. Better?”

“Not really,” I admit, pressing my hand against the tree trunk to ground myself. “Liv, what if I am? What if—”

“Don’t go there yet,” she interrupts, firm but kind. “You don’t know anything for sure. And even if you are, which, honestly, you’re probably not, you have been stressed, but guess what? You’re not alone. I’ve got you. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Her words should feel comforting, but the weight in my chest only seems to grow. Because if it’s true…it’s not just about me. And I don’t even know where Hudson lives. And oh my god, my parents are going to murder me.

I can’t even focus on the few students around me as I bring my knees up and bury my head between them, muffling a sob. I shake my head, though she can’t see me, and my voice wobbles as I respond. “Liv, I… I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” she says immediately. “You’re just scared, and that’s totally normal. But you don’t have to figure it all out at once, okay? One step at a time.”

“I know, but…” I trail off, wiping the tears cooling my cheeks as I stand to head back to my dorm. “What if I can’t handle what it says? I’ll be a fucking statistic in teen pregnancies!”

“You don’t have to handle it right now. Just get the test. Once you know, we’ll talk. FaceTime me or call me or text me. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

The warmth of her assurance wraps around me like a hug, and for a second, I feel like I can breathe again. “Okay,” I whisper. “And I’ll call you after.”

“You better,” she says, her voice lightening a little. “And no matter what, we’re handling this together. Got it?”

I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Got it.”

Except I really don’t think I got it.

***

An hour later, and I’ve blown off my afternoon class. It was AP calculus anyway, and that usually gives me a migraine. Given that I already have one of those, I figured I’m making the right call.

Liv texted me as soon as she hung up and reminded me to go to a drugstore away from campus in case I see anyone from school at the local one.

That left me heading in the opposite direction of everything familiar, toward a town I’d never been to before: Pine Hollow. It’s tiny, according to my phone maps, with one main street, a few side roads, and not much else. But it has a pharmacy, and that’s all I care about.

The bus ride is long and bumpy, and my anxiety only grows the closer I get. Even though it only takes an hour, it might as well be an eternity. Every jolt of the wheels feels like a reminder of what I’m doing, what I’m about to find out. My leg bounces restlessly as I glance out the window, watching unfamiliar storefronts and houses blur past.

When the bus finally lurches to a stop, I step off on shaky legs. The town is quiet, freakily so, but it’s also kinda cute. If I wasn’t having an internal crisis, then I’d appreciate the little organic general store across the road next to the florist.

The pharmacy is easy to spot: a small brick building with charming window boxes. My palms are damp as I walk up to the door, hesitating for a second before stepping inside.

The air smells faintly of disinfectant and cinnamon, like someone sprayed air freshener to mask the medicinal scent. It’s empty except for a middle-aged woman behind the counter, flipping through a magazine, and an older man in the corner browsing vitamins. Neither of them looks up as I enter, which is a small mercy.

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