Shatter (True Believers #4)(12)
Author: Erin McCarthy

On the ride back, me in the backseat, I checked my phone as Rory and Tyler discussed needing to go to the grocery store. Boring.

I had an e-mail from Jonathon. I clicked on it and it said simply, “Good luck tomorrow. You can do it. ~ D”

Now, that gave me a bit of a tingle in my vajingle.

I typed back, “Thanks. ”

There really wasn’t much else to say.

Then I realized I had a text from Nathan. I deleted it without even reading it.

And took Jonathon’s advice and finally blocked him.

That felt almost as good as sex with Jonathon.

I remembered the feel of his tongue over me.

Nah. Sex was way better.

CHAPTER FIVE

I got a C- on my exam. Okay, so I wasn’t Marie Curie, but it was a passing grade. It made my semester grade a D+ and that was passing. Good enough.

After I saw the score on the following Thursday as I was cramming the last of my stuff into my suitcase for winter break, I e-mailed Jonathon. “C-!” I wrote. Then after I signed my name, I wrote, “And that’s good, in case you were wondering. ”

An hour later he responded with, “Awesome job! You deserve it.”

Even though Jessica had grown up in the same hometown as me, she wasn’t going back for break because her mother wasn’t speaking to her. Some stupid BS about not liking Jessica having sex. Particularly sex with Riley, who she deemed a thug. Which was hilarious because Riley was a totally hard worker and he adored Jess. But I had known her mother long enough to not be shocked. Her mom was a nutter who cared more about presenting the right image than her kids.

I was lucky because my own mom was nothing like that. She was awesome and we were super close. I was actually looking forward to getting to hang out with her over break and see my younger sister and two little brothers. The eats were always good at home, too. I wanted to eat my weight in Christmas cookies and green bean casserole.

Except when Christmas finally arrived I had been feeling off for a few weeks and my nose wrinkled at all the smells colliding in the house. The rooms all felt overheated and at one point I stuck my head out the back door to get some fresh air.

“What are you doing?” my brother Matt asked. He had grown since summer and he towered over me now even though he was only fifteen.

“It’s hotter than a crotch in here,” I said, taking quick, short breaths. “I feel sick.”

“If you’re like getting the flu or whatever stay away from me. This is the first year Mom and Dad are letting me go out on New Year’s Eve and I am so not missing it.”

“I don’t have the flu.” I was starting to worry about what I had and it wasn’t a virus.

When we sat down to dinner my grandmother’s green bean casserole looked like worms crawling across a patch of wet grass. Bile lurched up my throat. I concentrated on breathing through my nose and taking tiny sips of water. The only thing I ate was mashed potatoes. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice because they were making plans for a big family vacation, a three-generation kind of thing, the following summer.

I counted on my fingers under the table. Seven months from Christmas was when they were talking about the trip. My grandfather offered me wine now that I was only a few weeks from my twenty-first birthday, but I waved it off. I could smell it from three feet away and it seemed sour to me. When had I had sex with Jonathon? The last week in November. Four weeks earlier. I tried to remember when the last time I had my period was. Definitely not since then.

It was before that, before Thanksgiving, because I remembered being at zumba with Robin, and I had just started in the restroom right before class. I hadn’t had any tampons so she had given me one of hers, which were natural and chemical free. Part of her whole sober living thing was going all organic, and while I got it in theory and supported the concept, I found using her hippie tampons annoying because there was no applicator. Then it had leaked during zumba, because salsa dancing meets aerobics isn’t for a halfhearted tampon.

When had that been, though?

At least a week before Thanksgiving because we went to Rory’s dad’s house for Thanksgiving dinner and I was relieved not to have to deal with it. It’s always super awkward ditching used tampons in someone else’s bathroom. Pulling my phone into my lap under the table, I scrolled through the calendar. That had been more than five weeks ago. Cruising toward six. Definitely late and then some, which wasn’t usually the case. In fact, it was never the case. Then I counted forward from the approximate date I would have started and ended on the last Thursday before exams when I had been with Jonathon. Fourteen days.

Holy hell.

I was going to throw up. I shoved my chair back, my phone spilling onto the floor. I ignored it and everyone’s exclamations of surprise and ran to the bathroom, spewing mashed potatoes into the toilet. Oh, God. Disaster. This was a total disaster.

My mother knocked, then came in as I was flushing, reaching for the toilet paper with trembling fingers, my eyes watery and a string of saliva hanging from my mouth. She took over, wiping my mouth and cheeks. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head, starting to panic. “No! Mom, I think I’m pregnant.” I shared almost everything with my mother, and if anyone would know what to do, it was her. I was actually glad I was at home instead of school.

She didn’t even blink. “I was starting to think the same thing, actually.”

“Really? Why?” I asked, stunned. I hadn’t had a clue until about two days earlier.

“You’ve been complaining about PMS for three weeks now. No one has PMS for three weeks, but half the signs of pregnancy are the same as having PMS. Sore br**sts, cramps, fatigue. Then the nausea clearly started.”

I sat back against the wall, my hands on my knees. “This is bad.”

“It’s not the best,” she agreed, but she reached out and stroked my hair. “But let’s make sure before we do our freaking out, okay?”

“Too late. I’m already freaking out.”

“Okay, I’m going to run to the store right now and get a test.”

“It’s Christmas Day,” I protested. “Nothing is open.”

“That convenience store is always still open. It’s probably their best business day of the year.”

I chewed my lip. I wanted to know for sure, but at the same time I wanted to avoid the truth as long as possible. “What are you going to tell everyone? They’re all eating dinner.”

“That we called the doctor and got you that antiviral flu prescription so you don’t get laid up for three weeks.”