Page 90 of The Hitchhikers
She’d been watching the chickens for so long she’d named them afterHappy Dayscharacters. She didn’t know boy chickens from girl chickens, so she randomly chose Fonzie, Joanie, Richie, Potsie, and Chachi. Her favorite was Fonzie, who had shiny black feathers.
At one point, she’d slipped into the house to use the bathroom, get a drink, and eat pickles she’d found in the fridge, along with spoonfuls of peanut butter. She felt bad, knowing Alice and the others would be hungry too, but she didn’t dare lift the hatch herself.
She wondered if she should check on Simon and bring him food but decided against it. She didn’t want him to get mad that she wasn’t keeping watch.
Bones was sprawled in a patch of shade on the grass. At least hewas comfortable. She sighed, kicked off her sandals, and rocked in the chair. Her eyelids were heavy.
Flutters, in her belly. The baby was moving. She placed her palm against her skin. How was it possible to love someone so much when you hadn’t met them yet?
She hadn’t always felt that way, though.
She’d thought she had some sort of flu. One that made her run to the bathroom in the morning to be sick. The scent of perfumed hair spray, soap, or meat would have her gagging. Her period had never been regular, so she didn’t notice when she missed it the first month. But then another month passed, and another. She stood in front of the mirror and examined her stomach, the roundness that hadn’t been there before. Her breasts were fuller—and they hurt.
What was she going to do? She couldn’t tell Simon. Not yet.
She dressed in loose clothes at home and school. Left the top button of her pants undone and pulled her blouses and shirts over her belly. But her leotards were tight. She wore her dance skirt high on her waist and tightened her stomach muscles when in class. She bound her breasts.
Could she hide it until the summer? Would she still be able to go to the dance academy? No. Of course not. But she could hope to finish high school. Then what? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything about being pregnant. She didn’t understand how to calculate how far along she might be. If she saw the doctor, they’d tell her mother. She still hoped she was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant at all. She might lose the baby. That could happen.
She ran out of time in the middle of May. It was one of those temperamental spring days when the sun and clouds fight over the sky. She was sitting at her vanity buffing a beautiful piece of green sea glass that Simon had given her. When she held it up tothe light, it reminded her of the green bottles inAlice in Wonderland. If only she could drink a potion and shrink away.
She was meant to be practicing, so she was wearing her black leotard. The full-length mirror taunted her.Come show me your secret.You can’t hide from me. Her pointe shoes laughed from the floor.Your feet hurt. You can’t spin anymore. It’s all over for you, stupid girl.
A knock on her door. She dropped the glass onto the metal jewelry tray with a clatter and turned around in her chair at the same moment her mother pushed in. Why hadn’t she heard her? She was always in heels. Jenny dropped her gaze to her mother’s feet. Nylon stockings. Had she been trying to catch Jenny by surprise? Her mother didn’t greet her. She walked toward the mirror, sighed, and smoothed her black-and-white-print wrap dress over her hips.
“You look beautiful,” Jenny said.
Her mother leaned closer to the mirror, brushed an imaginary stray hair from her eyes. She’d been to the salon. Her hair was gleaming platinum, her eyebrows in two perfect arches.
“Where are you going for dinner?” Jenny had already heard Robert making the reservation, but her mother would enjoy telling her about it.
“The new seafood restaurant up the coast. Some of the women in my aerobics class were talking about it. They serve lobster bisque.”
Jenny didn’t know what that was, but she tried to look impressed.
“It sounds wonderful.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes, studying her face. “You were sloppy today.”
“I was a bit dizzy. All better now.” She used her in-between smile. The one that seemed to irritate her mother the least.
Her mother came closer, noticed the tray of items on thevanity. She skimmed the pads of her fingers over them. Pieces of glass. Pretty stones. Shells. Feathers. Simon had given Jenny fishing line, some shiny lures, and a pair of pliers. He saved discarded bits of bronze and brass from boats, strips of teak wood. She loved every piece. Jenny dug her nails into her palms.
“Your dinner’s in the fridge.”
“Thank you.” Her mother would be feasting on lobster bisque, while Jenny was stuck with salad, steamed chicken, and, if she was lucky, a portion of rice. She’d gone from feeling sick every morning to now wanting to eat all the time, and so tired she almost fell asleep in class.
Her mother tilted her head, searching Jenny’s face again, like she was seeing something different but couldn’t pinpoint it. Her mother looked back at her treasures. Her finger stopped on the lures.
“Where did you get these?”
“The beach. Things wash up.” She held her breath. Had someone seen her with Simon? She’d feared that ever since their first boat trip to his shanty. They’d sat by the woodstove, eating chicken soup from the pot, and talking for hours. She should’ve stopped it then, but how could she? She had someone who listened, who understood. She tried to be careful. She called him at the marina only when she was alone, and if they took the boat anywhere, she’d wear his raincoat and fisherman’s hat. Simon had been to her house a few times when her mother and Robert were away, but they usually hung out in Simon’s apartment. She’d creep through the woods and up the back stairs, terrified of his father. Oh, God. Maybe he’d told her mother.
“Hmm.” Her mother pulled her hand away and turned as though she was going to leave, then stopped. She was staring at the front of Jenny’s leotard. “What’s that?”
Jenny glanced down. She saw the mistake right away. Her terrible error. The neckline of her leotard had slipped to the side,and her bandage binding had come loose, a beige corner poking out. Before Jenny could cover her chest, her mom had snatched at the edge of the binding and was pulling it, yanking Jenny up from the chair at the same time.
“Stop!” Jenny slapped her mother’s hand away. They stood, staring at each other, chests heaving. Jenny had never touched her mother like that.
