Page 79 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
“Listen.” Trish shifts forward in her cross-legged position between us. “Why don’t we just get a pregnancy test?” Her voice is unnaturally bright. “You’ll pee on a stick, prove you’re not pregnant, and then we can move on to planning our girls’ trip.”
I take a minute to mourn the end of my epic laser tag battle.
“Fine.” I slide my gun out from my pocket and point it at Jules’ vest. “But first”—I hold down the trigger until her entire vest lights up red—"I win.”
Open mouthed, Jules looks down at her vest. “What the fuck?”
I smirk. “Don’t be a sore loser.”
Jules fires at me with her gun until my vest glows blue. “There.”
“Dead people can’t shoot, Jules,” I say, enjoying her defeat. “Doesn’t count.”
Narrowing her eyes, she aims her gun at my head. “Just be glad these aren’t real bullets, G.I. Juggs.”
“Come on, now.” Trish takes Jules’ gun away from her. “We’ve got a drugstore to get to.”
“Fine.” I rip open the Velcro of my vest and turn off the power. “But when I prove you worry warts wrong, y’all have to promise to take me out for sushi tonight.” I narrow my eyes at Jules. “And none of this ‘I know a place’ where it turns out all the men are waiting.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to say sorry about that,” Jules says, not looking very sorry. “Kind of a dickish move on my part.”
“Kind of?” I toss my vest down and crawl over to the edge of the platform where the ladder is. “Tryvery.”
“To be fair, though, it wasn’t really for me. It was more for Holt.” Jules crawls after me. “He rarely goes out, so when he does, I like him to be surrounded by his favorite people.”
“Aw, we’re his favorite people?” Trish asks, waiting for her turn to get down.
“No. Me.” Jules looks at Trish like she’s dumb. “I’mhis favorite people.”
Jackie and Trish laugh.
I try to but end up gagging.
“Holy Mercury.”Jackie’s voice echoes in the small half-bath off the kitchen.
After a race to the nearest drugstore in our camouflage jumpsuits, we’re back at the ranch, piled into the four-by-four tiled space, staring at the white wand of fate siting on the bathroom vanity.
The wand I peed on.
And even though we haven’t waited the recommended three minutes, there’s no mistaking the blue plus sign that’s getting darker and darker by the second.
“Does this mean we’re going to be aunts?” Trish’s surprising excitement is tempered by the what-the-fuck nature of this moment.
“We should first ask if she wants to keep it.” Jules’ cool logic makes me flinch.
Their eyes move from the plus sign to me.
I’m sitting on the closed toilet, my hand hovering over my stomach. “Am I going to keep it?”
It’s a rhetorical question, aimed more at myself than my three friends who are wearing a mixture of emotions. Of course, that doesn’t stop them from answering and reassuring me all at once.
“It’s your choice.”
“We’ll support you no matter what.”
“Legally, you have options.”
I don’t know who is saying what; my brain is busy repeating the question over and over again.
