Page 127 of Not Another Yesterday
“I never realized how long three minutes are,” Summer mutters, picking at her nails.
“Same, girl. Same,” Vada says.
I jump up from the couch. “I can’t take it anymore.” I hurry to the bathroom, Vada, Tori, and Summer on my heels, then freeze in the bathroom doorway.
I can see the two pink lines from here. Bold. Certain.
Oh god, it’s positive. I’m pregnant. Oh god.
“No,” I whimper, stepping closer like maybe distance might change something. I pick up the offending thing, holding it in my hands like it might explode. “No.” My voice cracks.
I turn to my friends for help, my eyes huge, hands clammy.
“Maybe it’s a false positive,” Vada says, always the optimist. “Take another one!” She already unwraps another test and shoves it into my hand, taking the one with the damningpink lines from me.
I do as she says and repeat the process. This time, I don’t bother leaving the bathroom. The four of us just stand, staring at the test, watching as one pink line is quickly joined by a second. That test didn’t even hesitate. Itknows. The third and final test, too, turns positive within seconds of me taking it.
I stare at the tests lined up on the counter like they’re pieces of evidence in a trial I never meant to be on the stand for. My knees buckle and I sink to the edge of the tub, the cold porcelain biting through myjeans. My breath shudders in and out, thin and shallow, and suddenly I feel like I’m underwater. Like I can’t surface.
“Oh god,” I say, again. A cracked whisper. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to squeeze the moment out of existence. “Oh god. What am I going to do?”
No one answers. No one can.
A thought slams into my chest. “How am I supposed to tell Ran?” My voice shakes. With emotion, with fear.
“He’s going to think I did this on purpose,” I say, panic pulsing through me. “We just had that huge fight. He doesn’t want kids. He set a boundary. He made that so clear.”
I look up at my friends, my face crumpling, voice breaking open like a wound. “He’s going to think I’m trapping him into this.”
Tori kneels beside me, her hand on my back. Vada crouches down in front of me, her eyes shiny now. Even Summer looks shaken, helpless.
“He won’t,” Tori says, low, soothing.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I say. “Ican’tbe pregnant. I wasn’t supposed to be pregnant. We werecareful.”
The word feels laughable now. Pathetic.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “He’s going to be so upset. My parents are going to kill me. And what about school?”
I’m spiraling, and I know it.
“Deep breaths, Kitty Cat,” Vada says, soothing. “Everything is going to work out. Ran loves you. You know that. And your parents can hardly be upset unless they want you to call them hypocrites, right? And you have options,” she says, heavy meaning tucked between her words.
But that’s a decision I know I can’t make on my own.
“Do you want to call Ran?” Summer asks.
Tori and I shake our heads in unison. She understands this isn’t something to say over the phone. This is something I have to tell him in person.
“Okay… when’s he coming home?” Summer asks.
I suck in a shuddering breath. “Not until late tomorrow.”
And then I start to cry. Not loud sobs, just quiet, broken sounds slipping out of me like my body’s trying to make space for the weight of it all.
I already know I won’t talk to him for the rest of the weekend. Not today, not tomorrow. I’ll text him quick, casual things that sound like me, but I know I can’t risk hearing his voice, or worse, letting him hear mine. He’d know something’s wrong. He always knows. He’s scarily good at reading body language, listening to inflections. He’d be able to tell something is deeply wrong the second I said “hi.” And for some reason, the thought ofnotgetting to speak to him, when he’s the one person I need most, especially right now, adds a new layer of sorrow.
Monday, May 15th
