2What I thought and knew.
"I took the test." She said quietly, not looking me in the eyes while we were walking to the bus stop side by side.
"Yes?" I encouraged, extremely worried already.
"Yeah." She answered.
"Yeah?" I repeated, maybe to see if that was just a reply or the answer to whether she was pregnant or not. I already knew the answer, however, and it was just wishful thinking.
"Yes." She confirmed, quickly giving me eye contact.
"Fuck." I gasped, and when we stopped at our destination, I pulled her into a rapid hug.
"I took it this morning." She stated.
"Does anybody else know?" I asked her, hesitantly.
"No. No." She shook her head. "Nick doesn't even know yet; I have to tell him."
Carefully, I questioned her. "What are you going to do?"
She ran her fingers through her hair, a habit I had noticed she did often when she was nervous. "My mom is a medical person. She already knows I'm not a virgin."
"Okay." I swallowed.
"She's going to give me pills and stuff to kill the baby before it starts growing." She said, and a jolt ran through me. Kill the baby. That saddened me, but I knew that she couldn't and wouldn't be capable to take care of a baby. I had never been the type to be against abortion, or whatever she was doing, but I did feel a bit nauseous when I thought about that.
"Oh." Was my simple reply, not knowing what to say. My heart was jerking in my chest, and I could feel the tears start to rise, but since I was determined not to cry, I breathed it out.
She told me that she wanted to sit on the bus alone, so she could think. I nodded, wondering and fearing what she was thinking. I knew how dramatic she was and the insensible neurotic side of me dreaded over the thought that maybe she'd commit suicide. But I brushed it aside, feeling offended for her inside myself. She wasn't that stupid. She sat on the seat, her tiny frame curled up protectively around herself, looking out the window, ipod blasting. I noticed she had quickly made conversation to Brooke, a new freshman at our school, who she had graciously befriended, before going into position to think.
And I sat in my seat too, thinking. I couldn't find the word to call the feeling in my chest. All I knew was that a tightening reined over the upper part, over my heart. It left me requiring deep breaths. I was scared, worried, anxious, sad, angry, confused and tired. I could only wonder what she was feeling.
I thought; typically of every naïve girl, "this only happens to girls on TV and in books", but then crossed that out, rolling my eyes at my own ignorance. Something this big had never happened to me before. That's what I had meant.
In fact, a lot of things hadn't entered my life until her. She moved here two years earlier, with her ice tea colored skin, long brown hair spiraling down her back and large russet colored almond eyes. She was short, but her personality was so bursting with height, that it was disregarded. Except, of course when it was playfully teased by friends, which was often. Her crazy, loud, passionate self hid underneath a child like face. She was chubby, and hated it, constantly on diets and feeble commitments to exercise. When first introduced, she's meek and sweet, until something or someone spars her out of her dynamic shell, and then she's wild, noisy and attention-capturing, like a hummingbird.
She flitted from group to group, liked and was liked by plenty. She danced randomly, sporadically changing moods. She needed to be entertained, and I only told her things that would amuse her. She'd had a plethora of boyfriends. I guess when you are that extreme, guys flock to you. She said didn't care, but cared more than most at times. I could never tell whether she was intelligent or not…that sounds mean, I know, but it was true. She wasn't the type that erratically spouted information like a dictionary, or the all around good in classes, a plus student. She was careless in school, like me, and didn't give a shit …well sometimes she'd surprise me; talking to the teacher about extra credit, and handing in homework assignments every so often. But, to put it honestly, she was a ditz. But I didn't care. I thought she was worth it, and that's all that mattered.
There was one year when we ignored each other, but we disregarded it, letting that factor go to the back of our minds. I don't even remember what it was over…most likely due to misunderstandings or incorrect character judgment. But, first day in freshman year, we were friends again, like I had missed the memo or something. It didn't matter to me, she was amusing and entertaining, and so I enjoyed our friendship.
I know I'm sheltered. My parents were the type to inform me about drugs and alcohol, and I'd be cautious, because it had been imprinted in my mind that they were bad. I actually would get surprised whenever I went over some friend's house and they had alcohol. For some stupid reason, I thought that all parents didn't drink. I don't know why, maybe it was because my parents didn't, and I didn't know the real reasons why my parents didn't drink until I was older, so I just presumed it was because they wanted to set a good example for me.
So when she came into my life, I got an open door of what I could do. Drugs, alcohol, sex. I was repulsed by it, wrinkling my nose and judging kids who were popular for it. I slowly learned (and maybe this was a bad thing) that it wasn't all bad. It was forbidden. And everybody knew what that meant to a teenager in the midst of rebellion. Gimme, gimme.
Of course, I never had a chance to experience it. Yeah, that was total bullshit. I drank beer a couple times, eager to find out its taste and what made it so attractive to people. To tell you the truth, I think it tastes disgusting. Whatever, an acquired taste, I guess. But I never did drugs. I almost did, over the summer; a friend was keen on seeing me stoned, and was going to get some, but that never happened. I had been disappointed and relieved at the same time.
With her, I got a ticket stub, her life a movie that I partook in sometimes, but mostly I watched. She'd inform me things of her life, what was going on, and I'd nod, gasp, and laugh like a good friend. She thought me as one of her close friends, and I knew that she was a good friend of mine. But not close. I liked her a lot, she interested me, with her life so unlike mine, and the crazy things she'd do, but she had her bad side. Since she was of the passionate source, her anger fueled her. She was immature and impulsive most of the time (after all, aren't they connected?) and that led her to doing inconsiderate actions that hurt people on purpose. She was selfish, and self-absorbed, with a whole dollop of insecurity. She swore at her mother, and executed stupid decisions like staying after school and lying about it, drugs, alcohol, and then complained to me about how her mother was such a bitch to her. Her mother is a bitch, I know, but most of it is because of what she does first that stimulates the wrath. And what I find is ironic, is that her foster mom is bahai, or something, and her religion is meant for peace, yet this woman is a very angry person.
But anyways, I did feel honored and happy that she was my friend, because she could be really sweet and warm. I lived right next to her, one of our bedroom walls were the same. I knew her fostered mom since I was three, but never knew how crazy she was until she moved here. And let me tell you, her foster mother is fuckin' scary when she's mad.
So, by the beginning of my sophomore year, my naivety had lessened until ¼ of my new friends were associated with all those forbidden things, and that was thanks to her, my neighbor. If I were to compare her to anything literary, I would loosely base her off of the serpent in Adam and Eve. She did tempt me with knowledge of the "forbidden", if I were to put it like a scared third grader. But luckily, I wasn't thrown over to the "dark side".
Finally, when the bus halted at our school, and we evacuated it, I walked by side her, working up the courage to ask a question.
"Do you have a back up plan?" I broke the silence with.
She scowled. "My foster mom." Ugh. We both knew how that would go. There would be screaming, slamming of doors, and loud sobbing. Hopefully her mom would hold up.
"Okay. That's good. You need plans, if one falls through."
We continued to walk, and up the stairs, we quieted again.
I said something reassuring to her, and she got defensive.
"You don't understand." And like that, I saw a wall come up, and I didn't do anything.
But then I said, "You're right, I don't."
When we came almost to our locker, I paused, look her straight in the eyes. "You are going to be okay."
"I'm scared." She revealed, timidly, and clenched my hand. I let her go, nudging her gently toward Nick. I glared at him, but he didn't notice. I still wanted to kick him the balls because of what she had told me earlier.
"Nick doesn't want anything to do with it." She said in a faux cheeriness. She did that a lot lately. She'd say something important (bad important) and smile, making me feel like shaking her into a normal reaction. I didn't know why she felt that she needed to keep up false pretenses…it was only me. But…it mostly is probably for herself, so she doesn't crack. We parted awkwardly, the information a pillow pressed over everything smothering our other thoughts. I saw her throughout the day, holding hands with Nick so I guess they didn't break up or anything, thank god.
I wish I could say that everything worked out great. She got rid of the baby, and Nick and she continued their relationship…but I can't. It hasn't happened yet, because this is now, and I have to wait for then. We both are scared of what will happen, but this is for her.
I'll wait with her.