Page 78 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
“That’s big talk for such a little lady,” I drawl.
A herd of cows moo as they amble across the next field.
“I feel like I’m back in basic training, but with a farm theme.” Jules picks up one of the guns,pew-pewingit in the air.
“How does it work, exactly?” Jackie inspects her gun.
“For the next forty-five minutes we’ll shoot at each other.” I tap my chest. “At the end of the round we’ll check the monitor in your vest that keeps track of how many times you got hit.”
When we’re all covered, vested, and ready to shoot, I get out my selfie stick and take a picture. “This is going to be awesome.”
“This sucks.”I rest my forehead on my arm, which is resting on the windowsill of one of the treehouse forts. My stomach muscles contract again, and I shove my head out the window once more. “Huah.”
Thankfully I stopped upchucking a few heaves ago. Now I’m just gagging on air.
Jules reaches out with her leg from her seat on the opposite side of the fort and taps my shoe with hers. “There, there.”
“You’re a real caregiver, Jules.” Trish’s sarcasm makes me smile until—
“Huah.”
“I’m a regular Mother Teresa,” Jules sarcasms right back, then catches my eye. “Um, not to make this any weirder than it already is, but why are you rubbing your boob?”
I glance down to see my arm that’s not holding my head up is massaging lefty. “Huh. I guess it’s still sore from the Black Friday tit punch.”
Jules snorts. “Damn, I would’ve paid money to see the great Rose West taken down by a Croc-wearing Godzilla.”
“Har, har.” I pause, thinking I might heave again, but manage to head it off with a calming breath through my nose.
“I thought you were punched in your right breast?” Jackie asks.
I pause mid-rub. “Croc-zilla hit so hard my left one hurts now too.” I sit back, leaning against the fort wall, taking another deep breath through my nose, the nausea abating.
We sit in silence for a bit, enjoying the rare breeze cutting through the tree fort’s windows and the distant sounds of farm animals and equipment.
“When was your last menstrual cycle?” Jackie looks oddly serious.
Jules snorts. “We really have to work on your girl talk, hooker.”
Trish’s eyes go wide. “You’re not thinking…”
“What?” Jules sits up straighter. “What am I missing?”
“Nausea and sore boobs?” Trish prompts.
Jules’ mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” She turns to me. “You pregnant?”
I’d laugh at their expressions, but I’m worried that would set me off again. “Listen, guys.” I swallow some saliva, testing my stomach. “It’s like I told Vance”—I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand—"I have an IUD and he used a condom. The chances of pregnancy are like…” I wave my hand around, trying to think of some minuscule number.
“One point three to one point seven percent,” Jackie says, tugging at her laser tag vest.
“Exactly!” I point at Jackie. “What she said.”
“So you’re saying there’s a chance.” Jules’Dumb and Dumberimpersonation is not amusing.
“Correct,” Jackie says, not picking up on the comedic undertones.
“Bullshit.” But I don’t sound as sure as I’d like. Before, I could explain the sore breasts and nausea—Thanksgiving overload and Croc Woman spinning—but why am I sick now? And ifJackiesays there’s a chance…
