The Secret Diary of Ashley Juergens (5 page)

7:02 A.M.

I woke up this morning thinking it was just another day. Well, another day as in pretending Amy’s not pregnant and Mom and Dad aren’t getting divorced. Because, let’s face it, that’s what normal is now. Or at least I thought it was until I walked into the kitchen.

Amy told Mom about the baby. I know Mom had to find out at some point but I would have appreciated a heads-up. I walked right into a trap. I came in for breakfast and left in almost as much trouble as Amy. I was actually glad for a second Dad wasn’t there.

Mom asked me if I knew. I tried to cover but Amy ratted me out. I was ready to keep her secret for nine months and she sold me out in nine seconds. I went down swinging, though. I said maybe Amy’s pregnancy was the result of an alien abduction. Mom was not amused and cut me off before I could run down my list of other possible scenarios: Immaculate Conception, food baby, gas, or high school biology project gone horribly wrong.

Before Mom could focus on me, Amy told her she wanted to get an abortion. That’s when Mom sent me to my room. She must have thought I couldn’t handle the conversation.

I didn’t want to tell her Amy and I had already talked about that last night. . . .

I couldn’t sleep and went into Amy’s room to talk. I hadn’t planned on going in there to talk about anything. I had been tossing and turning for a couple of hours with Amy and the baby on my mind. I knew
The War of the Roses
was going to be on
TV
soon and I figured it would make me feel better about Mom and Dad’s situation, so I walked down the hall toward the living room. Amy saw me walk past her door and called me into her room because she was up, too. Her voice didn’t sound tired or anything. I was surprised she was awake. Out of all the times I’ve gotten up to watch a movie in the middle of the night, this is the first time she’s been awake and called me into her room. All that privacy must be getting to her.

I sat at the end of her bed and we talked about how quiet the house is with Dad gone. Usually when Mom and Dad fight he ends up on the couch and watches movies with me, but since he’s not here I’m left to make the popcorn and Juergens commentary by myself. It’s just not the same. Commercial breaks are more fun with Dad there.

All of a sudden Amy asked if I would think less of her if she had an abortion. I looked down, ashamed for complaining all the time. I never realized how fantastic my problems are. So fantastic they aren’t even problems compared to what Amy has to worry about. I told Amy I meant what I said before, about being her friend, and that I would support her in whatever she decides to do. But deep down, I hope she doesn’t get an abortion. But I didn’t tell her that. That’s why it’s probably a good thing Amy finally told Mom about the baby. Because even though I’m Amy’s sister and friend, the person she really needs now is Mom.

I told her getting an abortion is a big decision. A decision best not made in the middle of the night by two sisters whose minds are so busy and confused that they aren’t allowing them to sleep. Amy agreed but said it also wasn’t a decision that can wait for very long because decisions only get harder the longer you wait to make them. She had me there. I suggested weighing all of her options before thinking about that, and one of those options would be to tell Mom and Dad about this and see what they think.

She said telling them she was pregnant was going to be hard enough . . . now this? I told Amy I’ve had to tell Mom and Dad lots of stuff and it’s not so bad. Like the time I tried to drive myself to school. Sure, the yelling can get loud and punishments aren’t fun (although I don’t think any punishment can outlast the nine months she’s currently serving) but then it’s over and you get that small break before the next lockdown. You get used to it. Amy looked at me and told me she didn’t think she could get used to any of this. She had me there. Again.

Why is it that I used to be the one making the points and being right? It was only after this past summer all that changed. Now that Amy’s pregnant she’s turned into some kind of sage or something. Where was this person during band camp when this whole mess started?

I decided not to bring that up. I mean, if we all had the option to go back in time then I think time travel would be as normal an occurrence as going to the bathroom. But sometimes mistakes need to be made in order for you to realize they actually weren’t mistakes in the first place. That’s why I don’t think Amy should get an abortion. I told Amy we should sleep on all this for now because I was getting tired, so Amy and I went back to bed. Or at least I thought Amy had gone to bed. I had no idea she had planned on waiting up all night in the kitchen for Mom.

I left the kitchen to let Mom and Amy talk. Amy must be so tired of talking by now. I know I am. I went upstairs, but not to my room. I went into Amy’s. I don’t even know why, and it’s not because I could hear them in the kitchen better. It was because even though a lot of things have changed lately, Amy’s room hasn’t. Not in five years. So being in there made it seem like Amy wasn’t pregnant, Dad was living here, and a certain conversation wasn’t going on in the kitchen.

My room’s a little bipolar . . . it changes every couple of months. Right now it has a kind of
Beetlejuice
aesthetic. But nothing about me is really different from five years ago.

Weird.

Later, I went back into the kitchen to see if I should be making any attempt to get ready for school. Mom told me I wasn’t going to school. I didn’t think we’d all be going underground. I think my mom told you I was sick, Principal Miller, or somebody died or something. I’m assuming since it was my mom who lied to you that means I won’t get in trouble for skipping school. And if I do get in trouble so long after the fact . . . just take it up with my mother.

I asked if that was my punishment for not telling anyone about the baby. She told me I should have come to her and said Amy was in trouble. The same could be said for her marriage—which I told her—and that got me pulled into the hallway right away. She said I blame her for Dad leaving. I don’t—I blame them both. But since she’s here and wants to talk about it, then yes, the focus is on her right now. They both could have done something to help their marriage, but they didn’t, and now we all have to deal with that on top of Amy’s pregnancy. She didn’t speak up when she sensed trouble either. Like mother, like daughter. I was going to thank her for the master class in irony but thought better of it—I’m in enough trouble as it is and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.

I told her I didn’t want Amy to go away like Dad. I needed her here. She’s all I have in this house. I could tell I hurt Mom’s feelings, but she’s closer to Amy, like I am with Dad. I’m surprised she wants to send Amy away and be trapped in this house with just me. I should have told her I would have felt the same way if she was the one who left and Dad stayed. This house is different when we’re not all together.

I know I said before I had the best summer ever because Amy wasn’t here and I was by myself. But that’s because I always knew she was coming back. I don’t think my dad’s coming back. And I don’t want Amy leaving if she’s not returning.

I tried to change her mind about Amy going to our grandmother’s house. Mimsy’s is a place we go for fun visits and vacations, not to hide out. But she doesn’t think Amy can stay here with everyone knowing she’s pregnant. I broke the news to her that everyone already knows Amy’s pregnant: Lauren and Madison, Dad’s customers, Ben, Ben’s dad, everyone at Amy’s high school, everyone at my school, me, insert your name here.

She and Dad were the only ones who didn’t know.

Amy and I stayed pretty close to each other after that bombshell breakfast. The only time we do that is when one of us is sick. I try to catch whatever Amy has so I can get sick and stay home from school, or Amy tries to catch whatever I have to just get it over with. You can’t catch pregnancy, though, although Dad has tried to scare us into thinking if we stand close enough to a boy, anything’s possible. And unfortunately for Amy, you can’t just get it over with.

Speaking of my dad, he called Amy on her cell phone to see what’s going on over here.

Amy tried to act like everything was okay, but started crying. Mom grabbed the phone and ended up being the one to tell Dad that Amy’s pregnant. I have no idea what Dad’s reaction to the news was, but I have a feeling it sounded something like this:

Mom took Amy’s phone with her to avoid any more breakdowns from Amy. So much for the calling plan.

Would you think less of me, Principal Miller, if I told you I hoped this news would make my dad move back home? My belly button doesn’t seem so terrible now, does it?

My phone rang and I knew it was either Madison or Lauren because the caller
ID
said: amy’s loser friend . . . I had a fifty-fifty shot of being right but a one hundred percent shot at being annoyed. Turns out it was both of them calling on the same line. They tried to act concerned about Amy, but all they’re ever concerned about is themselves. I wish Amy would find better friends. Just because you’ve been friends with someone for a long time doesn’t mean you have to keep being their friend. And they’re the ones who told everyone at school Amy was pregnant. They’re the reason she wants to go live with Mimsy. They wanted me to give her a message, but I hung up on them instead. They probably weren’t surprised—it wasn’t the first time. But I was too mad to tell them what I really thought. I should have told Lauren she’s a snob and will probably stop coming over here once she feels the stigma of having a pregnant friend, and I should have told Madison I know she’s just calling because she wants the latest scoop so she can blab about it all over school.

I once tried to prove to Amy that her friends couldn’t be trusted. I told them Amy was dropping out of school to play her French horn on the street for spare change. It took only a half hour for people to start calling Amy to ask her which street corner she would be working on.

Even though no one needs to be reminded, I’m going to do it anyway: these are the two people she chose to confide in first. And this will not be the last time I hang up on them.

I did tell Amy they called. Luckily, she didn’t call them back but instead wanted that girl Adrian’s number. Amy must be the only person in school who doesn’t have her number. I bet Adrian would be good at the “Never have I ever . . .” game. Amy wouldn’t tell me why she needed to call her (I hope it wasn’t for sex advice) but she did say all the secrecy was for my own good and because she does trust me. And since other people know she trusts me, they’ll ask me where she’s going. I just wanted to know if she was coming back.

I don’t really care where she’s going as long as she’s coming back.

11:02 A.M.

Mom walked in and we asked her about Dad. She said he’s probably out looking for Ben. How could I not realize that would happen? A boy once made me cry in third grade (the only time that’s happened and it was because he told me he had a crush on me) and Dad hunted him down at his own birthday party and made him apologize before he let him eat a bite of cake. I don’t even want to think about what he’s going to do to Ben. I think Mom could read my face because she told me to tell her anything else she should know. I quickly ran down the list in my head: the father of Amy’s baby is Ricky, not Ben; Dad is having an affair; and Amy’s going to sneak out of the house the first chance she gets.

I decided to tell her the first secret. The poor woman’s had a rough morning. As soon as I told her Ben wasn’t the father, she called Dad to let him know, and so the innocent stayed safe and all possible and metaphorical cake-eating was uninterrupted. Apparently Dad had almost made it to Ben’s homeroom when he had to turn back. The thought of Ben’s squeaky voice trying to calm my dad down (“No, no, Mr. Juergens, you’ve got it all wrong!”) has been very entertaining.

While Mom was on the phone, I helped Amy climb out the window. I’ve never needed help climbing out the window. It’s not that high and with a little “mind over matter” mentality it can go quite quickly. With the way Amy’s year has gone so far, I’m sure she’ll master it in no time.

I climb out the window only when I need time to myself . . . and to avoid my mother.

I still don’t know where Amy’s going. All I know is Ben and Adrian picked her up. She told me she loved me. It surprised me and scared me at the same time. Did that mean she wasn’t coming back? It was more like a good-bye “I love you” than an “I’m just reminding you that I love you.” It’s the same tone Dad used right before he left with his suitcase. I told her to just go. What I really meant was “Just go but please come back.” She’s the only one around here who treats me like an adult.

Please come back, Amy.

I told Mom that Amy was in the bathroom, which at this point—given all the crying and drama and morning sickness—was very believable. I asked if she was going to let Amy marry Ben. She said they’re too young. I can’t believe Amy’s even thinking of marriage after witnessing Mom’s and Dad’s behavior recently. I mean, Ben seems like a nice guy—he wants to be with Amy even though it’s not his baby—but I’m sure Mom didn’t think any of this would ever happen with Dad when they got married. And Mom wasn’t even pregnant with another guy’s baby. It just all seems so complicated. Could marriage possibly uncomplicate it? What am I even saying? I think I’m hearing
The Twilight Zone
theme music again. Cue Rod: