I sighed. The beetle was caught on a rock. “Won’t do any good. Mother will get power of attorney and they’d take her wishes over mine anyway.”
“You can fight her if you want, Chance. You should start now if you’re going to.” Charlie’s voice had a strident tone.
I couldn’t summon the urgency to argue or the passion to agree. Distance had taken its toll. All I had left was the dull ache of regret. “Maybe Mom’s right about just letting it be.”
The phone went silent for a moment. The beetle got over its rock, only to turn around and get caught on it again. Foolish creature.
“Something changed you in LA, didn’t it?” Charlie asked. “Was it that girl? I thought she was just a fling.”
“She was,” I insisted. But I could still close my eyes and smell the sea. The sand crunched under my feet. I cleared my throat. “It’s no big thing.”
“Well, all right,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I see anything on our side, legally. If your mom starts paperwork.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
“Sure,” she said.
The line clicked. I held the phone against my ear another moment, then shut it off.
The beetle started heading for me again. I watched its progress, wondering what I’d do if it started crawling up my leg. But when it got close, it turned and went another direction, as if I had some sort of force field around me, deflecting it.
Maybe I did.
I stood up. This country boy was all wrong for New York. I was glad to have seen it, but it was time to move on. I had a feeling I’d get a better reception in Virginia. So I’d head there next.
Still a lot of country to see, and a lot of forgetting to do.
Chapter 26: Jenny
I was so screwed.
I lined up the pair of pregnancy tests on the counter. I hadn’t summoned the courage to unwrap them yet. But after three days of nausea that came and went, and a couple trips to the toilet that had actually been productive in that department, I had a bad, bad feeling.
My boobs hurt to touch. I knew these symptoms. All I needed to complete the stereotype was a craving for pickles and ice cream.
Except I hated pickles.
I sat on the toilet lid, staring at the tests. All I had to do was pee on them to know for sure. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I had some little bug. My period was due. That was probably what the boob thing was about.
But deep down, I knew. I had known since Dr. Alpern said I should have been out of pills. My carelessness was going to cost me. I should have gotten my act together before striking out on a boy quest.
The white wrappers shined under the bathroom lights. I was torn between getting it over with and never taking one at all. Maybe I wasn’t up for facing facts.
But I should know. I should stop taking the pill, if it was true. Figure out what I was supposed to do. Take vitamins or something.
I’d been holed up since the first time I threw up. It was the second day of break, and Corabelle was in Mexico and Tina was working. I had to go in to Cool Beans in about an hour to work a shift. That was going to be awesome.
I twirled the stick in a circle, like it was the center of spin the bottle. Stop here, baby. Stop there, no baby.
If only.
“Fine,” I said to the sticks. I tore the wrapper off one and pulled off the cap. Now what?
I dug the instructions out of the box.
Hold the end into the stream of urine for fifteen seconds.
Fifteen? Did I even pee that long?
I could also stick it in a cup of pee, but that seemed gross. I shoved my shortie pajama bottoms to the floor and tugged on my green flowered underwear.
Panty dropping. I had a feeling this was NOT what they meant.
I stuck the stick between my legs, but this made me not have to go. I sat there, swearing at my parts, insisting they cooperate. Still nothing.
I reached over for the faucet, turning on the tap. “Sorry,” I said to the flow, and all of drought-ridden California, and the Water Board.
Finally, a stream of pee came out of me. I held the stick, counting slowly, but the dang thing was saturated. I yanked it out and stuck the cap back on.
Shoot. I should have read the rest of the directions.
Lay the test on a flat surface and wait fifteen seconds.
Another fifteen. Had they done experiments to find the ideal time frame or was it just a random number? I pictured the marketing guys talking about it. “Hey, Joe, make sure they leave it long enough. Put in some crazy time frame so they won’t stop too early.”
I braced myself on my elbows, watching the little window. The moisture began cutting across, setting off a red line. Was that it? A positive already? My chest tightened and I snatched at the instructions.
No, it was just the control line. Two lines meant pregnant.
I stared at the empty spot, willing it to stay blank. But it appeared, just a faint hint at first, like a mirage, then gaining color. Before it could fully develop, I picked up the stick and flung it across the room.