Screwed (10 page)

Distracted by all the drama in the last couple of weeks, Grace had nearly forgotten that she still had to get through senior year. During her first three years of high school she couldn’t remember any girls with beach balls for bellies waddling through the halls of Silver Lake High School. A dubious honor to be the first. Instead of enjoying the euphoria of senior spring, she would be going into labor in AP Psychology and giving birth in the nurse’s office. But Helen’s glass-half-full attitude was contagious, and for the first time she thought that maybe everything could work out. Taking a sip of ice water, Grace smiled at her miraculous hostess. As Charlie described the collection of Fabergé eggs at the Hermitage, enamel-covered treasures dotted with diamonds and emeralds, Grace was almost, but not quite, able to enjoy her first evening in her temporary new home.

Lying in bed later that night, unable to fall asleep in spite of the incredibly comfortable bed, Grace wondered if her parents were still awake. Were they thinking about her, or had they banished her from their minds as they had banished her from their house? She stared at her phone, dialing the first three digits of her parents’ number over and over, unable to finish. What would happen if she called them? Would they answer, or would they just let the machine pick up?

It was September ninth, the first day of senior year. Instead of enjoying the relief that should come with gearing up for the last lap of high school, Grace was on the verge of a breakdown, not sure she had the strength to suck it up and slog through the day. Suddenly uncertain if she’d made the right decision about the bean baby, the time for changing her mind was running out. Standing under a tree outside school, waiting for Jennifer, Grace felt certain that everyone knew, that she gave off some fecund pregnancy scent, or that Nick had blabbed, and she might as well have a big red
A
tattooed on her forehead. Rivulets of sweat ran down her back, and her breasts ached inside her painfully tight bra. Certain that pregnancy had caused her to swell up like a pair of cantaloupes, which would be another dead giveaway, Grace wore a sports bra that, while it flattened out her chest, was incredibly uncomfortable. Something had to give, because the way she felt at this moment, she wasn’t going to last another week, let alone until April.

Although Charlie had driven her to school in Aunt Helen’s gleaming silver Mercedes, he had left her to attend a meeting of some singing group he was thinking of joining. Credit to him, he had said she could tag along so she wouldn’t be alone, but she had refused. The time had come for her to stand on her own two feet, at least until Jennifer arrived — or until her ankles became too swollen to hold her up, which she felt was going to happen any second, but according to the pregnancy book was a treat that was still a few months away. Where was her best friend, who had promised her that she would be there through thick and thin, which definitely included being pregnant on the first day of senior year? Checking her watch every fifteen seconds, as if that would hasten Jennifer’s arrival, Grace waved and smiled, pretending to be normal.

Already late, Jennifer skidded into one of the last open parking spaces. Checking her face in the rearview mirror, she was startled by someone tapping hard on her window. “What the hell do you want?” she hissed.

She stared up at Nick, hoping he might go away, but he continued knocking. “Let me in. I need to talk to you.”

As gorgeous as he was, there was a cool detachment about him that transformed his flawless features into a death mask. Reluctantly, she popped the lock and he slid into the front seat. Trying to sound tough, Jennifer asked, “What do
you
want, asshole?”

“I want you to talk some sense into your crazy friend. You need to make sure she gets this taken care of,
now
.” Nick spoke in a monotone and stared out the windshield at a tree. It was like a scene out of a mafia movie. His next line would be something about concrete boots and sleeping with the fishes.

“What exactly do you mean, ‘taken care of’?” Although Jennifer knew very well what Nick meant, she wasn’t going to make this easy on him. She wanted to make him spell it out and prove what a scumbag he really was.

“Don’t play dumb, Jennifer. You know what I’m talking about. She needs to get rid of this thing, this problem. If my parents find out, I’m dead. I don’t think she’s thought this through.”

Realizing that if he came on too strong this girl was going to stonewall him, he tried to soften his voice. If charm didn’t work, there was always time to get nasty later. Besides, she was kind of hot in a bitchy way, and it didn’t hurt to keep his options open. The type of chick who always had to have the last word, she probably liked it a little rough, and definitely on top. She had possibilities, if she ever stopped talking. But now wasn’t the time to think about a potential Number Twenty. Number Seventeen had to be dealt with first.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get your way. Grace is having the baby, and probably giving it up for adoption, you douchebag.” Blond hair falling just so over his forehead and miles of white teeth notwithstanding, it was easy to see that this guy was a total bastard. Jennifer wondered how brilliant Grace hadn’t been able to see it.

“That’s not good enough. This needs to go away,
now
.” Playing nice wasn’t working. Desperation rising like a wave inside him, Nick could feel his very loose grip on his limited self-control slipping. He didn’t know Jennifer all that well, but she didn’t look like someone who would give up when her back was against the wall. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to hold it together, just a little while longer.

“Or else? Are you threatening me, you selfish prick?”

If they hadn’t been sitting in the crowded school parking lot, Jennifer wouldn’t have been so ballsy. In spite of his reputation as a ladies’ man, from what she could see, he was more of a bully. Nick didn’t look above hitting a girl if he didn’t get what he wanted from her. But the steady stream of kids and teachers made her brave. That and the can of pepper spray she kept under the seat.

“No, I just think that Grace should think a little more about what she’s doing. Having a baby isn’t like buying a fucking dog. I don’t love her, I don’t want to be a father, I’m not going to marry her, and I think I should have some say in how this thing plays out, assuming it’s even mine.” That last bit was unnecessary and incendiary, and, even he knew, ridiculous, but it didn’t hurt to keep that seed of doubt alive.
“
Can’t you see what I’m going through?” In spite of the fact that Grace was the one who had to carry the baby, Nick felt like he was entitled to a little sympathy too.

Jennifer shook her head. “You’re even more of a shit than I thought. You probably should’ve considered all those things
before
you took your dick out of your pants. But you don’t have to worry your pretty little head. You’re not going to be on the hook financially, and Grace doesn’t plan on telling anyone who the father is, so why don’t you go fuck yourself. And get the hell out of my car.” Jennifer sounded way more sure of herself than she felt. As little as she thought of him, he was still intimidating with his perfect profile and testosterone-fueled confidence.

“Just tell Grace what I said. And tell her if she wants anything from me she’s going to have to get a DNA test.” Nick got out of the car, slammed the door, and stormed off. “That was a waste of time,” he mumbled to himself.

Jennifer sat in her car, taking deep breaths and trying to figure out what to say to Grace about her babydaddy. When the first bell rang, she still hadn’t decided how to broach the subject, other than to postpone it as long as possible. As her mother always said, bad news keeps. Reluctantly Jennifer got out of her car, pasted a smile on her face, and hurried to find Grace, who had to be furious that she was so late.

“There you are,” Grace called out, relieved that Jennifer had finally arrived. There was no way she would get through this first day without a wingman.

“Sorry I’m late. Minor wardrobe crisis.” It was not the moment to tell Grace that she had run into Nick in the school parking lot, and that he had urged her — more like threatened her — to talk some sense into Grace about her
problem
, as he called it. Jennifer knew she would have to tell Grace about her little encounter with the devil, but there was no rush.

“You look beautiful, so I guess it worked out,” Grace said.

In a short navy blue sundress and red flats, Jennifer did look gorgeous. Grace wondered again why the boys couldn’t seem to get past Jennifer’s personality issues — her body was amazing, and her hair looked like spun gold. Grace’s build was much the same, but she was already mourning the loss of perfect proportion and the advent of miles of elastic that would be needed to encase her rapidly swelling anatomy. This had been the first summer her mother had allowed her to wear a bikini, and now she would probably never look decent in one again. It was a minor problem in the grand scheme of things, but upsetting nonetheless.

“And you look just like you. No one can tell. I swear.” Jennifer didn’t have to lie. There was no suggestion of a bulge anywhere on Grace’s slim frame. But according to the baby books Jennifer had consulted — she owed it to her best friend to be well informed — the change would happen overnight. One day soon, Grace was going to wake up looking pregnant; it was inevitable.

“Thanks for caring enough to bullshit me,” Grace replied as the second morning bell rang and they joined the herd of students lumbering into the first day of school.

Miss Tappan, the AP English teacher, tottered into the classroom, a hippopotamus in clam diggers and kitten heels. “Welcome back, children.” Her eyebrows rose. “Yes, you’re still children. Enjoy it — it’s almost over.” She perched on the edge of her desk, staring at her class over bright red glasses sitting on the end of her bright red nose. “I know you’re all chomping at the bit, desperate to become adults, believing that therein lies some magical key to happiness. But let me be the first to burst your bubble. Adulthood means responsibility, making difficult decisions, some of them wrong, and with no one to come and clean up after you.”

Although Grace knew it was practically impossible, she felt as if Miss Tappan were speaking directly to her. Could she know? Her face nearly as red as the teacher’s, T-shirt clinging to the damp skin on her back, Grace fought the urge to run out of the classroom. Fleeing would only raise more eyebrows, and her secret, if it hadn’t already gotten out, would be that much closer to the surface.

Someone in the back of the classroom raised his hand and asked, “Does this have anything to do with AP English? Are we going to be tested on this? Should we be taking notes?” Everyone laughed. It was a universal sentiment: unless it was on the test, nobody gave a damn.

“Every word I utter and everything you see in this class could potentially be on an exam. So pay attention. You never know what might be significant,” Miss Tappan replied, hopping delicately off the desk and clicking over to the white board where she wrote a list of books and poems. “In case you’re wondering, write this down — it’s important.”

Six hours and five classes later, Grace collapsed in the front seat of Charlie’s car. More than anything else in the world she wanted to free herself from her clothes, but that would have to wait. She was having trouble getting enough air, but she couldn’t decide whether she was simply being strangled by her sports bra or was suffering a six-hour panic attack.

“You made it through the first day. Only one hundred and seventy-nine left to go,” Charlie said as he started the car and turned the air conditioning on full blast. Grace’s face was on fire, tiny beads of sweat dotting her forehead, even though it wasn’t that warm out. It was obvious that she’d had a rough time of it. Charlie pressed a button on the steering wheel, and classical music floated out of half a dozen speakers. It was like a relaxation tank on wheels, but in Grace’s state, cool air and a Bach concerto were of little help.

“Don’t remind me.” Fiddling mindlessly with the thermostat, Grace said, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Look, you got through today. You’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Take one day at a time,” Charlie said, trying to be supportive and sensitive, but worrying that he sounded like a refugee from one of those alcoholics’ support groups that meet in church basements once a week to trade platitudes and sobriety chips. Having spent much of his life in all-boys schools, he was a novice when it came to friendships with girls, and Grace wasn’t your average teenage girl. That coupled with the fact that he felt different with her left him on edge. She made him nervous, in a really good way, but it was disconcerting. Searching for just the right words to comfort his new friend, he would do or say anything to make her happy, or at least make her feel better. He wished he could fast-forward to next April.

“I’m not sure that I made it through. Between the sweating and the hyperventilating and the paranoia, I have no idea what actually happened today. Even if I go to class, I’m going to flunk all my courses.” Grace flipped the visor down and examined the tomato that was her face in the mirror. “Yikes. I look like a pomegranate.” She flipped it back up and stared out the window as the glacial, German-engineered air conditioning dried her damp skin and hair. Perhaps if she could go to class in this car she could survive.

“You look fine.”

What Charlie really wanted to say was that she looked beautiful and vulnerable and he would do anything to protect her. He had spotted the evil Nick in his history class. With girls swarming around him like bees buzzing around a particularly luscious flower, Nick was impossible to miss. No wonder Grace had fallen under his spell — he looked deep into each girl’s eyes, and the way they all batted their lashes and twirled their hair, it seemed only a matter of time until each one found her way into the back seat of the infamous Jeep Grand Cherokee. That this one guy could have random sex with the entire female population of the senior class, along with a healthy quotient of underclass girls, seemed entirely plausible, and that made Charlie even more furious about what he had done to Grace. As bad as it was to be in her unfortunate condition, it was that much worse, because she was clearly only one of many toys in this jerk’s playpen. Charlie fantasized about sucker punching him, whispering, “How does it feel to get fucked?” as Nick fell to the floor.