Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (4 page)

Finally, after we waited about four hours—okay, maybe it only seemed that long being surrounded by pregnant women who I was sure were judging me for knocking up my teenage girlfriend—we were called back by a middle-aged nurse in bright pink scrubs dotted with rubber ducks.

“Okay, Ms. Summers,” she said, pointing Mel to a small bathroom. “I’ll need a urine sample first. Then we’ll get your weight and some vitals.”

I waited outside, avoiding the nurse’s gaze, while Melissa did her thing. Then the nurse took us to a sterile room with all kinds of scary looking medical equipment, and we took a seat to wait. Again.

My heart pounded in my throat. This was so not supposed to be happening. Teen pregnancy = mistake. I thought I was going to puke.

Mel must’ve sensed my impending panic because she reached over and gripped my hand. “It’s okay, Reed.”

I looked at her. “I’m sorry. All this doctor stuff just makes me really nervous.”

“I know. Me, too.”

We were interrupted when the gray-haired doctor with wire-rimmed glasses and an easy smile breezed into the room. “Hi. You must be Melissa.” She smiled at him, then he reached out for my hand. “And you are?”

I swallowed and accepted his handshake. “Reed. Reed Young, sir.”

“The father?”

The father?
The father . . . yes, of course, dummy.
“Um, yes.”

“Great.” He sat on his stool and flipped through the chart in his hand. “So, it looks here by your blood work and last menstrual period that you’re probably about eight to ten weeks along . . .”

My head began to buzz and I had a hard time focusing as I thought back eight to ten weeks. Was it Easter weekend that we forgot the dumb condom? What night had we made this baby? What moment had irrevocably changed our lives forever?

I tried to listen as he examined her and explained things about the pregnancy and how to care for herself, but I was lost.

“How about a quick ultrasound?” he asked, his voice soothing, kinda like I remembered my grandpa’s.

Mel nodded, but I was still oblivious. But they didn’t seem to be paying me much mind anyway.

“All right, I’ll be right back.” He stepped out for a moment and the nurse came in quietly to help Mel with a sheet over her legs. It all happened so fast, I wasn’t sure what was going on.

Until the doc came back and put Mel’s feet up in some big metal foot holder things and pulled out an ultrasound machine.

Melissa automatically reached over and grabbed my hand. I intertwined our fingers and squeezed.

The doctor smiled as he explained what he was doing and . . . what? He was gonna put it
where
? Oh, God. I had to look away until it was all clear. “We won’t see much now, but we should be able to see your baby’s heart beating.”

My own heart began thudding crazily as the black and white fuzzy images swirled on the small screen.

“Oh, my God.” Mel’s whisper carried in the air like an epiphany.

And it was.

The doctor pointed at a small pulsating blob on the screen. “There it is.”

It looked like a peanut.

A living peanut. The constant, rhythmic
bomp, bomp, bomp
of its heartbeat pulsed through the screen. That was our baby. That was life.

Oh, shit. It was real.

June 18
th

The week since Reed and I told our parents about the baby has passed in a blur. Mom still gives me weird looks when I come out of the bathroom from hurling up my toenails, but doesn’t say much. Neither does my dad. Which is totally fine by me. I don’t want to discuss anything right now. Not until they quit looking at me like I have the Black Plague.

But today was OB visit day, and it would’ve been nice to be able to talk to my mom about all this girly stuff. My BFF, Roxanne, is only so much help since she’s a virgin, but she says her older sister went to Dr. Foster when she had her kid. Apparently, he’s pretty nice for an older guy. I was only slightly relieved to hear this. A. Because he’s old. B. Because he’s nice. But, he still looked at my hoo-ha. Weird.

I also apologized to Roxie that I hadn’t been spending any time with her lately, but she said she totally understood. Boyfriend. Baby. She gets it. She’ll get with me when there’s time. Maybe when the kid’s in kindergarten. We laughed about that, at least until I realized my kid would actually be in kindergarten someday.

So, anyway, I got my official due date of January 20
th.

I’m still scrambling to do the math in my head, but I’m just not sure. Before the visit, I’d Googled fertility and menstrual cycles, trying to figure out the chances it was Reed’s. Not helpful since my periods are irregular. Then, unable to help myself, late last night, I also tried to research genetics. What could be looming in this baby’s chromosomes? No idea.

I have to say, Reed was super sweet during the appointment and held my hand as we saw the baby’s heart beating for the first time. He looked about as shell-shocked as I felt.

We talked about it all down by the pier tonight. He mentioned getting a job, which is smart. I wish I could do the same, but I’m not sure what I could do with all this pukiness. Luckily, I’ve got some babysitting money saved up, though I’ve had to cut back on helping with the neighbor kids because of how crappy I feel. I’ve been so miserable, it makes me feel useless.

But there’s something else . . . we started making out and I felt one of the old sparks flare up. But when they used to ignite clear up to my chest and brain, they’re fizzling out somewhere in my belly now. I just can’t do . . .
it
anymore.

I love him, I love him, I love him, I kept telling myself that in a mantra as he touched me. Reed isn’t a monster. He’s the sweet, funny boy I’ve loved for three years. I thought I could go through with it, so I kept trying. We’ve had sex several times. Heck, we don’t even have to worry about getting pregnant anymore.

But that’s not the point, is it? My secret hangs over my head like a stupid black cloud, and so do the memories of The Night.

Red

I
found myself at Jonah’s house after I dropped Melissa off because they were heading to her grandparents’ for dinner. I don’t really know why I went there. His family dysfunction was worthy of a sitcom. But Mel needed to get home, and honestly, I was happy to have a minute to breathe because she seemed a bit happier about seeing the baby on the ultrasound than I was, and I didn’t want to look like an ass. So I kissed her goodbye and let her think I was the good boyfriend. And since I was pretty much avoiding my folks—Dad was still treating me like the gargantuan disappointment of the ages, and Mom was still too weepy for me to handle—I bounced to Jonah’s pad. But, man, home would’ve been nice. I sure could’ve used Mom’s advice on some stuff. Heck, a lot of stuff. Hopefully she’d get over herself soon.

I plopped into Jonah’s spindly desk chair and bowed my head. “Dude.”

“Rough day?”

I rubbed my temples. “Kinda. First doctor’s appointment.”

“How was it?”

I met Jonah’s curious gaze. “Weird. The doctor’s kinda old, but he’s cool. His nurses are all middle-aged and frumpy, all the other women in the waiting room were double our age. I felt like a freak.”

Jonah popped open a bag of Doritos and offered me some. I waved him away. He didn’t say anything and let me keep talking. “We saw the baby on an ultrasound and it’s already got a heartbeat.” I left out the totally inappropriate place the doctor put the ultrasound wand thingy. Not gonna even try to explain that one.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. But it looks like a little kidney bean or a peanut. Definitely not like a baby. And definitely not cute.”

He laughed. “It’ll get cute. Well . . .” He studied me. “With you? Maybe not.”

I tossed a wad of paper from his desk at him. “Shut up, punk.”

He wouldn’t. “Maybe it’ll take after Melissa.” He dodged the next bomb—a stubby pencil.

I had my mouth open to tell him what I thought of that when the front door slammed. That meant one of two people. His dad or his older brother, Noah. Either one wasn’t great. When his younger brothers and sister started squealing with fright, we knew it was dickhead Noah.

I stood as the air in the entire house changed. Sticky. Heavy. Hateful. “I guess I should get outta here. You wanna come over or something?”

Jonah’s eyes searched mine, his voice suddenly dreary, “Yeah, I . . .”

His bedroom door slammed open and Noah towered in the doorway. “Well, what’ve we got here?” His dark eyes bounced between us, finally landing on me. “What’s up?”

I stood my ground. I had more important things than this asshole. “Not much.” I moved toward the door.

He didn’t budge. “So, I hear you knocked up your little whore of a girlfriend.” A smirk slithered across his face like a serpent as he waited for my reaction.

I could feel Jonah tense behind me.

My gaze caught Noah’s. His eyes glittered with a challenge. He was begging for a fight. I sucked in a breath as my mind automatically reeled through all the times he’d tormented us during the years.

Something deep inside me clicked and I didn’t feel like that boy anymore.

I took another step in his direction and his eyes darted down then back up, his smile slipping momentarily. “She’s. Not. A. Whore,” I ground out, the force of all the pent-up emotion making my voice gritty.

Melissa was lots of things . . . an animal lover, a champion of the underdog, goofy, my sunshine . . . but a whore, or anything ugly, she was not.

He barked out a laugh, but it sounded forced. “Tell that to all the dudes she spreads her legs for.”

Red.

Red.

Red.

Just like the movies, red filled my vision.

I’d had enough.

I balled my fist and sucker punched him in the jaw for all I was worth, getting little satisfaction from the crack of his teeth or the red oozing from his lip.

June 19
th

So, I tried to get out of it, but Mom made me go to my grandparents’ house. Suckage, as usual. Sure, they act nice, but all my life, I’ve been able to feel their subtle disappointment in me. I’m not sure why. I try to be polite, I’ve never broken or stained anything in their house. I gave up trying to impress them or have a real relationship a long time ago. They didn’t seem interested. But they’re sure interested in Chris.

I love my brother. I do. It’s just that he’s so freakin’ perfect at everything that I’ve always been swallowed up by his shadow. Perfect athlete, perfect grades, popular, well-mannered. He never does anything wrong. Like
ever!
We’ve always gotten along OK (I suppose it’s easy for him since he’s the obvious favorite. Maybe he feels sorry for me?) But lately I’ve noticed he treats me different. More distant. Maybe it’s the baby? But I can’t imagine why . . . he’s not the odd man out.

That’s my role.

(God, I just reread everything I’ve written and I sound totally whiny! I’m not, promise. I’m trying to go on with life, holding tight to the secret of that night, but I feel like that old, ragged ball about to rip off the tetherball rope at the park. Wimpy. Grasping by a string. I try to tell myself I’m just hormonal and emotional. But I’m scared. Really scared.)