The car is silent as Mom and I head home. I'm in the passenger's seat, but I feel a million miles away from her. And even still, I wish I could go further.

I don't know why she isn't speaking. I'm sure she has plenty to say. Me, on the other hand, I'm too floored to come up with anything to fill the space. This would explain the mood swings, the ill-fitting jeans, the bloating, the soreness, the missed period. I really am an idiot; I hate myself for being so blind. Who gets pregnant after the first time they have sex? The very first time ever? Me, apparently.

On the outside, I'm calm. Stoic, even. But on the inside, everything is in turmoil and under duress. There's no way I can see this through. I'm not even a legal adult, and I'm expected to be somebody's mother? There's no way. There has to be a mistake. I can't even keep a goldfish alive for longer than two months, and there's supposedly a baby growing inside me? It can't be right. It isn't right.

But they saw it in my blood. It wasn't an at-home test; those things that are always faulty. No, this wasn't the stereotypical peeing on a stick moment - they saw the hormone shift in my actual blood. That means it must be legit. That means I'm with child and have been for approximately… 28 days.

I have the urge to press a hand to my stomach to see if there's a difference, but I don't dare while in such close proximity to my mother. I can't imagine what she must think of me. I used to be the twin who could do no wrong, and now what am I? The teen mom. What a great role to step into.

My mom's silence worsens with each passing mile. I almost want her to yell at me, to blow up and just scream. At least then, I would know what she's feeling. With this eerie silence, I know nothing. Everything is up in the air and nothing is for certain. And when we get home, the vibe doesn't change. We both get out of the car and head towards the front door, and when she opens it, she says, "Go upstairs. We'll talk later. I need to call your father."

"Okay," I say meekly, feeling a little strange playing the part of the child as I'm carrying one. "Are you gonna tell him?"

She doesn't answer with words. Instead, she gives me a grave look and I don't ask any more questions. I just head up the stairs into mine and Ashtyn's room and sit on the edge of my bed, not even bothering to take my shoes off. All I can do is stare. I'm not sure how long I sit there, but my eyes stay focused on a particular part of the wall on the opposite side of the room. It's a little chipped away, a slice of white cut through periwinkle, because Ashtyn once hit that spot with a hockey stick. She'd been into field hockey for about five minutes - really, she liked beating me with the stick more than anything else - and we'd been in the middle of some sort of fight to the death. After the wall took a hit, her stick privileges were taken away as was her spot on the team. We were probably 11. It feels like yesterday, while at the same time, a lifetime ago.

The sky begins to turn purple and not much later, a car pulls up in the driveway. Due to the clatter of shoes and a backpack when the front door comes open, I know it's my sister. Still, I don't move a muscle. I hear her footsteps stomp up the stairs without pausing to greet our mom, then she pushes the door open and appears in front of me. "Yo," she says. "What the hell is going on?"

I don't answer, and she turns around to take off the sweater she wore to school today. As she pulls on a t-shirt, she looks over her shoulder to shoot me an expectant expression.

"Hello?" she says. "'Cause one minute you're biting my head off in Calc, the next you're gone. Everyone's like, where'd April go? And I'm like, I don't know shit! So, what happened? Where did Mom take you? How come you got to leave and I didn't? Traitor."

I still don't open my mouth. It's almost like I can't. I don't want Ashtyn to know, even though she's the person I trust more than anyone else. I can't stomach the thought of her knowing this huge mistake I made. It was never supposed to happen. I don't want her to think less of me; I don't want anyone to think less of me. I know Mom already does.

"Hey, asshole," she says, changing into sweatpants and out of her jeans. "You go mute?"

I shake my head no.

"Oil can?" she asks, then mimes the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. "Oil can! Open your mouth, dummy."

I draw my feet up onto the bed, knees bent towards my chin. I wrap my arms around my shins and shrink myself to the smallest version I can, then duck my head. It's like when I was little and thought if I couldn't see the seeker in hide-and-seek, they couldn't see me. Explains why I always lost.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" she asks, but her tone isn't sympathetic, it's annoyed. "You're pissing me off with the dramatics." I shake my head again, which makes her scoff and roll her eyes. "Whatever," she says. "Sit there and act stupid. It's what you do best."

"Shut up," I croak, my voice hoarse from holding back tears.

"Oh, so you'll use your voice to tell me to shut up, okay," she says, rolling her eyes yet again. "You're annoying as shit today."

With a small whimper, I turn to face the wall - unable to look at my sister anymore. I keep my knees pulled into my chest and clench every muscle in my body, from my calves to my jaw, so hard that I start to shake. Maybe, if I try hard enough, I can will the baby away and it'll turn out to be a big fluke.

I'm not sure how long I lay in bed, unblinking, staring at the wall, but my eyes stay completely dry as I do. The only thing that stops me from disappearing into myself and never being seen again is my mom's voice in the doorway. "April," she says, and it makes me jump. The room had been so silent. Ashtyn put her headphones in and the only sound was that of a pencil on paper as she did homework. I roll my husk of a body over, meeting Mom's eyes. "Dad and I need to talk to you downstairs."

Ashtyn sits up and pulls her earbuds out. "What's going on?" she asks.

Mom looks at her and I wonder how she'll answer. Will she just come right out and say it? Will she sweep it under the rug and act like our lives aren't about to be turned on their heads? "This is something we need to discuss with April alone," she says.

"What's with all the secretive shit?"

"Watch your mouth, Ashtyn Rose," Mom snaps, pointing at my sister.

I follow my mom dutifully without looking back at my bristling sister. When we make it downstairs, my dad is already in the den in his favorite chair, tracing the rim of the water glass beside him. I sit on the couch with Mom a cushion away and stare at my knees. I wait for them to speak because I know it's not my place to jump in with apologies or excuses. I don't know what I'd say even if I wanted to talk.

"April…" Dad says, drawing out my name like he's trying to find the words that come after. "The only question I can think to ask is… how did this happen?"

"Well, you know how it happened," Mom says tersely.

"She knows what I mean," he says, and though I'm not looking up I can tell his eyes are heavy on me. "You know how pregnancy works. We've had the talk, you learned about contraception, I thought you knew better. Just… how? How could you be so short-sighted?"

"Since when are you even having sex?!" Mom asks, and her tone is nowhere near as calm as my dad's. "This is not like you. You… you didn't tell us, you didn't… I thought you were a virgin."

"I was," I say softly. "It was my first time. I didn't think it would happen on…"

"Well," Mom says, moving to sit back with her arms crossed. "That ship has sailed."

"How long ago did it happen?" Dad asks.

I think back, trying to accurately count the days. "Four weeks," I say.

"A month," Dad says. "A month ago, when Mom and I were in London?" I nod silently. He sighs and says, "Yeah."

"I just don't… I can't…" Mom says, burying her face in her palms as she leans forward, elbows on her knees. "I'm so disappointed in you, April. You've always known better. Don't you understand how this interferes with your future? What about Duke? How could you not think?"

"I don't know," I murmur.

Mom sighs. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm just… it was an easily-avoidable mistake."

"It's also a baby," Dad points out, then grabs my attention. "April, what do you want to do about it?"

I pick my head up and try to look at him. It doesn't quite work. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"The choice is yours," he says. "You're not legally an adult, but you were adult enough for this to happen. So, it's your job to decide how to move forward."

"Like…?" I say, not finishing the sentence. I think I know what he means, but it feels like too big of a choice for me to shoulder. It's not my place to decide whether or not this baby lives or not. Or… is it? I guess it is. But something that important doesn't feel like it should be allowed on me.

"There's adoption, abortion, and keeping it," he says. "Each option is heavy."

"I have to choose right now?" I peep.

"No," Mom says, running her fingers through her hair while shooting Dad a look. "But within the next couple weeks, yes."

I stare at my knees again. I still can't believe this is happening to me, of all people. There's a long pocket of silence until I fill it with the words, "I'm sorry."

Dad replies with, "I know."

"Was it Matt?" Mom asks out of nowhere. I look at her with knitted eyebrows, thoroughly confused. "The neighbor boy," she continues. "Is he the father?"

"What?" I snap, recoiling. "Oh my god, no."

"He's the only boy you know," Mom says.

"No, he's not," I say defensively. "I know other boys. It's not him. I would never… not with him."

"Well, we need to know who the father is, honey," Dad says.

"You don't know him," I mutter, chewing the inside of my cheek.

"What's his name?"

I let out a long sigh, then lift my eyes to the ceiling. They've begun to grow hot, which means I'll inevitably start crying soon. That's the last thing I want. What I need, more than anything, is to get out of this room. I can't handle the way their eyes feel on me. "Jackson Avery," I say.

My nose burns. I know my face must be red. Mom says, "Well, I'll give his mother a call."

"No," I say, blurting out the word. She looks shocked, eyebrows coming together. "At least… can I tell him first?" I ask. "He doesn't know. Please, just let me tell him. Please."

My parents lock eyes and communicate silently, and I look between them as they do. "Fine," Mom says. "But I'm calling his mother tomorrow night. That's how long you have."

"Alright," I say, throat closing with each passing second. "Can I please go now?"

"Go ahead," Mom says, sounding defeated. I know I've let them down; I've let myself down, too. I can't bear to think about it, because if I start, I'm only going to spiral.

As I head up the stairs, the tears come with no plans of stopping anytime soon. I barge into mine and Ashtyn's room and she looks up from her homework, taking her earbuds out yet again. "Dude, are you okay?" she asks, and I do what feels right, which is stumbling over to her bed and collapsing against her. She shoves her books and papers to the side and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as my whole body racks with uncontrollable sobs. "Hey… chill, breathe, it's alright," she says.

"It's not!" I wail.

"Will you just tell me what's going on?" she asks.

I sniffle to try and catch my breath, but it doesn't happen My words come out forced and broken, choked at best. "I'm pregnant," I say, then squeeze my eyes shut tight and press my face into her shoulder.

"Shit," she says under her breath. "Holy shit."

I continue to cry, loud and hard, and my sister stays exactly where she is. She rubs my outer arm and I do my best to try and rein myself in, but nothing holds. "I'm sorry," I manage to say, after it feels like I've been crying forever.

"Don't apologize," she says quietly. "It's okay to let it out. Just cry. It's alright."

So, I do. I cry so hard that when I stop, my eyes look bruised and blue with puffiness. They're bloodshot beyond repair and I barely recognize my own face. But even so, Ashtyn wipes my tear-stained cheeks and tucks my damp hair behind my ears, then gives me a melancholy grin. She doesn't need to say anything to fill the weighted silence, because I already know every word she'd say. Even when it feels like no one else is on my side, she always has been.

…

I can't imagine anything worse than running into Jackson in the hall and having to explain my behavior, so I avoid him for one more day. Then, I go to the gym as he's there during basketball practice and sit on the highest level of bleachers - though, in a small school, that's not necessarily very far away from the court. He makes eye contact with me twice then ignores me for the rest of practice. I know I deserve that.

At 5, when it's done, I stand up and walk slowly down the stairs with my hands on the straps of my backpack. He doesn't head to the locker room with everyone else, instead, he stays to shoot hoops - while still pretending I'm not there. I know he stays for a reason, though. Otherwise, he would have already left to change.

"Hey," I say, standing on the sidelines. He meets my eyes for a brief second before shooting a clean three-pointer. "Nice."

"Thanks."

"You were good in practice, too."

"Thanks."

I take a deep breath and try to make my mouth less dry than it is. It's easier said than done, though, when my body seems to be against producing any saliva. "Um… I was wondering if we could talk," I say.

He shoots from the free-throw line and sinks it, no backboard. "We're talking now," he says.

"Well, I know, but…" I sigh. "I mean, like… talk talk."

He raises his eyebrows, though he doesn't look at me. "So, now you wanna talk," he says. "You tired of ignoring me, or something? Did it get old after a month?"

"Jackson…" I say. "There's a lot you don't know, and…"

"How would I know when you haven't said a fuckin' word to me since your party?" he asks. "Acting like I don't exist and shit. Damn, April."

"I know… I know it was wrong, but I was just as confused as you," I say.

"I doubt that."

"I was."

"I texted, I called… I even DM'd you, shit! But you made it clear you didn't want anything to do with me. Just a hookup, I guess. Which... that's cool, but it would've been nice to know before I got all invested."

"You're invested?" I ask.

He gives me a look I can't make heads or tails of. "I don't know anymore," he says.

"It wasn't just a hookup," I say.

"Yeah, well."

"It wasn't, I swear," I say, walking off the sidelines and onto the court.

He positions himself to shoot a basket, but I take the ball out of his hands before he can. "Hey!" he exclaims.

"Talk to me," I say. "Will you please just sit down?"

We lock eyes and keep contact for a long time, neither of us backing down. His jaw is set tight and I'm sure mine is, too; I don't plan on giving in first. Luckily, he caves. "Fine," he says.

We walk to the bleachers and sit down in the first row. "No one's gonna come in, are they?" I ask.

"Guys all left out the back," he says. "Janitor doesn't come 'til like, 10."

"Good," I say, still holding onto the ball. I turn it this way and that between my palms, studying the small bumps on its surface. "So… I guess I should just come out and say it." I stare at the swooping black lines on the basketball as the words pass my lips. "I'm pregnant."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, and I can't bear to look and see what expression he wears. All I do is let my eyes go numb on the basketball, hoping he'll think of words to fill the space with eventually. "Um, okay…" he says, stammering a little. "Are you sure you took the test right?"

I chew the inside of my lower lip. I don't know what I expected him to say, but I guess it shouldn't have been more than that. It wasn't like he was going to lift me up and spin me around, overjoyed that we're teen parents. "It wasn't like that," I say. "I didn't pee on a stick. They saw the hormone in my blood. It's for sure."

"Yeah… yeah," he says, then clears his throat. "But it was just… just one time."

"Yep."

"So… what do you wanna do?" he asks, sounding as clueless as I feel.

It's the furthest thing from comforting. I already have a million questions zipping through my head, and all he does is add more. "I don't know," I say, sounding a bit desperate. "What do you wanna do?"

"Well… I don't know," he says, mirroring my statement. He runs his hands up and down his thighs. "I just found out. You're the girl, don't you get to decide?"

I roll my eyes, suddenly ticked. "Great," I say. "Great. So, then it's all on me?"

"No," he says quickly. "No… I didn't mean…" He lets out a short, heavy sigh. "Shit. Should we get married?"

"'Shit, should we get married,'" I repeat, deadpan, nodding with tight lips. "Yeah." He looks over and I can't help but glare sarcastically. "No, it's just when you put it like that, it's…"

"Oh, well I'm sorry, April, I'm just trying to do the right thing here. I didn't mean to-"

"Then don't ask the wrong questions! I…" I stand up, dropping the ball and watching it bounce away without direction. "Just, um… forget I said anything."

I turn to walk away and he stands, too. "No," he says.

"Whatever, I'll figure it out. Whatever it is, it's not your problem," I say, palms up. I don't know why I'm reacting like this, but I'm just so angry. How come he gets to spew all this stupid stuff, react in such a stupid way, while I'm the one shouldering the responsibility? It isn't fair. He helped put us in this position but he's doing nothing to help now. "Just forget it."

"April," he says loudly, trying to call me back as I walk towards the doors.

"It's fine, I have to get home, anyway," I say, crossing my arms and hunching my shoulders. I pick up the pace as I throw open the gym door, heading down the long hall to where the pool is. I don't check behind me to see if Jackson is following; instead, I keep my eyes down until I reach the other doors. When I go through them, I see my sister sitting on the edge of the pool in her school-issued swimsuit, goggles and swim cap. She gives me a wave and a gentle smile, and I do my best to return both. Her practice is for another hour yet, so I have plenty of time to ruminate in this humid room.

I don't last long in there, though. My hair starts to frizz and annoy me, and my stomach is growling louder than the coach's whistle. So, I get up and go out in the hallway again in search of the vending machine, only to find Jackson standing right by it. I start to turn around and head back towards the gym to avoid him, but he speaks before I can get far. "I'm not gonna forget it," he says. "Let me drive you home."

…

At first, Jackson and I are quiet in the car, but it isn't like the silence yesterday with my mom. It's not crackling with words we aren't saying, but instead full of curiosity of what we should say. I still don't know what the right thing is and I'm sure he doesn't, either.

I look out the window, noticing that we aren't on the quickest route to my neighborhood. "Are you taking the long way?" I ask, watching the trees.

He glances over quickly before looking forward again. "I… yeah," he says. "Is that okay? I was just hoping… I don't know, that it might give us a chance to talk before…"

"Yeah," I say. "Also, you should know that my parents want to meet you."

"Well, they kinda need to," he says. "I, uh, I planned on coming in. When I dropped you off. I was gonna introduce myself."

"Oh," I say.

"That okay?"

"Yeah," I say, pushing my hair out of my face. "Yeah. They'll be happy."

"Are you?"

"Huh?"

"Are you happy?"

I move my lips to one side and trace the shape of my knees with my thumbs. I don't know how to answer that question. Does it make me an evil person to not be happy about a baby inside me? My body is currently doing what a lot of women's can't - women who want a child so badly. Why should I squander this opportunity? Does that make me selfish? Does that make me so, so childish? I am a child, though. Aren't I allowed to act like what I am?

"No," I say, surprising myself with the blunt answer. "I mean… I don't know. Are you?"

"Didn't really think this would ever be me."

"Yeah, me neither," I say. "At all."

"Yeah."

"But now that it is…" I shrug.

"Did you want kids?" he asks. "Like, in the future? Was that something you ever thought about, or…?" He shakes his head. "Sorry, stupid question."

"It's not… it's not stupid," I say. "Yeah. When I was little, I talked about it all the time. Like, someone would ask me, 'what do you wanna be when you grow up?' and I'd always answer, 'a mommy.'" I laugh a little. "But I was little. My mom likes that story a lot, though. I love kids… I've babysat since I was old enough to… and like, having kids when I'm grown up was always something I wanted, but… I'm not grown up yet."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"Did you?" I ask. "Want kids?"

"Oh," he says. "Yeah. I think. I don't know, never really thought about it that much. My answer when I was a kid was always 'firefighter.' Would've been cute if I answered that I wanted to be a dad, though. Then we'd make a perfect match."

I laugh a little, humorlessly. "Yeah," I say. "That would be cute."

"But now we don't get a choice, really," he says. "We're pretty much in this now."

He reaches over and takes the hand that's resting on my thigh, and I flip it over to intertwine our fingers. "Well, we do," I say. "Have a choice. And we should probably talk about that." I let my eyes dart to his face to see he's still watching the road. "I was supposed to go to Duke in the fall." I trace his thumbnail - wide and sturdy. "Don't you have plans, too?"

"Well, yeah," he says. "Basketball scholarship. Villanova wants me… so does Kentucky. I still have to choose."

"So what does that mean?" I ask. "We can't have a baby in college."

"People do it a lot, I think," he says.

"In two different colleges?" I say. "Living on-campus. Don't you want to dorm?"

"I want…" he trails off. "Dorming doesn't really matter to me. You know… where I live, I don't give a shit. I honestly don't even give a shit about the school I go to. Duke is like, amazing for basketball, too, did you know that? I could apply there. Hella late, but… I'm a beast, so they'd probably pay me to go there…"

He laughs, but I don't smile. I'm not sure what he's getting at. "What are you saying?" I ask. "That you wanna keep it?"

At a stoplight, he looks at me to try and gauge how I'm feeling. I can tell by the look in his eyes. "I don't want what I want to change what you want," he says. "If you don't want it, I'm with you. I'm behind you. I'll drive you to the place, if you want. But at the same time, yeah… I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure about really anything, but I think you're a cool person. Cool is a stupid word to use in this situation, but I have feelings for you and I don't think we'd be the worst at raising a kid. I like being around you. You make me better. I don't really know if that makes sense, 'cause I tend to say stupid shit around you, but…" He clears his throat. "I'll support whatever decision you make," he says. "But I think bringing a whole ass life into the world with you would be pretty damn cool."

I smile. A real smile. "A whole ass life," I say, keeping the grin as I squeeze his hand.

"Yeah," he says, a smile growing on his face, too. "You like that one?"

I nod and say, "Uh-huh." I stroke the top of his hand and watch his fingers clasp mine. "I wanna keep it, too," I say. "It's scary to say that out loud. But I do. I have no idea how we'll figure it out… or what people will think, but I guess I don't really care."

"Nah, fuck 'em," he says. "We got each other."

"Yeah," I say, then lean to rest my head on his shoulder. "We should go home. You can meet my parents."

…

A month later, Jackson, my parents and I are in the stands watching Ashtyn embarrass herself on the volleyball court. She's taking my spot for the season - I'm not showing yet, but I don't want to take any risks. Volleyball clothes are tight and there's a lot of stomach diving; the last thing I want is to hurt the baby. So, after a lot of cajoling and plenty of bribing, she agreed to sub for me and my coach agreed, too. I lied and said I have mono.

The problem is that Ashtyn has no hand-eye coordination to speak of. She hasn't hit the ball once this game, and she got it one time in the last one, but sent it sailing out of bounds. "This is painful to watch," Jackson murmurs.

"She's trying," I say, though I tend to wonder if she really is. Right now, she's standing with her hip popped to one side, studying her nails. The other team serves and I watch it happen in slow motion - the ball flying over the net right towards her - it would be a perfect shot, if she were paying attention. But since she's not, it slams against the side of her head and sends her stumbling backwards, eventually falling on her butt.

"Shit!" she curses, and I can't help but laugh. I hear my mom chuckle, too, but covers it up by clearing her throat.

"This is really not her sport," Dad mutters.

Then, Lexie walks by carrying a bag of popcorn in one hand and a pop can under her arm. She catches my eye, then looks to the court where Ashtyn is. "Hey, April…" she says, confused. "Why aren't you playing?"

Volleyball isn't exactly a popular spectator sport. It's not like basketball or football, where the general public comes and can see that I'm not on the court. So, most people aren't aware that I haven't been playing for the last few weeks.

"Mono," I say, using the excuse I've come to get used to. I don't like lying to my friend, but it's better than telling the truth. I know that in a few months, it'll be glaringly obvious, but I have some time until then. It's still something I can keep between myself and the people who need to know. Jackson and my parents agree - it's not something that needs to be spread until there's no way around it.

"Ew, that sucks," she says, then eyes Jackson with a smile. "Guess we can thank you for that?"

He looks puzzled for a minute, then I covertly nudge him with my elbow. "Kissing disease," I murmur, faking a smile.

"Oh, right!" he says, then forces laughter. "Yep. All me. I infected her."

"You aren't contagious anymore, are you?" Lexie asks, taking a subtle step back. "Either of you?"

"Oh no," I say. "Just kinda fragile still. Like… our spleens, and stuff."

"Right…" she says. "Spleens. Yeah. Okay, well my mom is waiting for me. I'll see you in Psych on Monday."

"See you," I say, waving as she walks away.

"How come I have to look like the nasty one whenever we tell people that?" Jackson asks. "I feel like the booger guy on the Mucinex commercials. The minute we say mono, everyone acts like we said the black plague. Like, now I know what the rats in the 13th century felt like."

"Oh my god, shut up," I say, rolling my eyes. "Those rats deserved to feel that way. They killed millions of people."

"That's how Lexie just looked at me!" he says, then gives himself buck teeth and makes a rat-like sound. "You have any cheese?"

I laugh and shove him away with both hands, turning my head as he makes the same chomping sound near my ear. "Get away!" I squeal, until he grabs me by the waist and pulls me comfortably closer.

"Okay, okay, no more rat," he says. "Unless you wanna be my mouse."

"Mice are way cuter," I point out.

"Then it fits," he says, kissing my cheek. "Little mouse."

…

Seeing as I'm already pregnant and not much more can happen, my parents let me sleep over at Jackson's sometimes. Never on school nights, but since it's a Friday, they let me go home with him. His mom isn't here, she's away on business, so we have the house to ourselves.

He turns on the light in his bedroom then jumps onto his bed, flopping down with his arms behind his head. "You're gonna break that thing one day," I say. He always lands on it like that.

"You will," he says. "When you aren't a mouse anymore and you sit on it with that big belly."

"Whatever," I say, snorting as I walk past his mirror. Stuck in the corner is a black-and-white piece of paper that I recognize as our sonogram from the week before. There's not much to see yet, just a mass of gray, but something warm and fuzzy flutters in my chest as I trace its lower edges. "You put this up?" I ask.

He cranes his neck to see what I'm looking at, then smiles. "Oh," he says. "Yeah. I was gonna get a frame, but then I liked her right there where I can see her."

I turn to face him, asking, "Her?"

He smiles, his lips moving to one side a bit shyly. "I got a feeling the other day," he says. "Just feels like it's a girl."

"Maybe," I say. "What do you want it to be?"

He shrugs and says, "Anything. As long as it has ten fingers and ten toes… but honestly, even if it had like, seventeen of each, I'd still be cool with it. We could definitely ball."

I can't help my grin. "You are such an idiot," I say.

"Nah," he says, then grabs his phone. "Here. I wanna get a picture of you."

"No…" I say, outstretching my arm with spread-out fingers to try and block his shot. "I look horrible right now. Don't." He smiles behind the phone that he's holding up. "What?" I ask.

"Stop, stop, stop," he says. "Just turn to the side." His joy is contagious, so I can't help but give in. I do as he suggested, turning to the side and lifting my shirt. "Flash me the belly, I wanna see it. Come on."

I look down, cupping my stomach that's begun to look the tiniest bit different. "I know," I say. "I'm finally starting to show a little."

I join him on the bed and look at the phone, studying the picture he took. "I'm gonna take one every week," he says.

"Nice."

"Watch you two grow."

"It's a good one," I say, referencing the picture as I get comfortable next to him.

He props himself up on an elbow and rubs my stomach, looking at it as he says, "Hey, little peanut."

He's looking at my belly, but all I'm doing is staring at his face and feeling a thousand things. The best I can do is voice one of the million thoughts. "I'm really glad you're here," I say.

"Yeah?" he says, still rubbing my belly as he looks into my eyes.

"Yeah."

He smirks a little, pulling me in for a kiss before saying, "Where else would I be?"

…

One more week passes, and like most Fridays, I'm at Jackson's house again. This time, after a basketball game instead of a failed volleyball game. He's tired out, sleeping soundly as I crawl out of his big bed and avoid the clothes on the floor as I walk to the bathroom. I pour myself a glass of water in a Dixie cup and drink it slowly, feeling achey. It's not anything new; as my body grows and changes, I've had to get used to a lot of unusual feelings. I'm just not accustomed to being sore all the time. Staying in shape is hard when I'm constantly tired.

Physically tired, but not mentally. It's almost midnight, but my mind won't rest. I get back in bed next to him and he stops snoring momentarily, adjusting closer to me. He cocoons his body around mine, tucking his face into the back of my neck while letting out a long sigh. I smile to myself and mesh our fingers together, closing my eyes to try and convince myself to sleep. I have plenty of things to worry about, but also plenty of things to be happy about. That should be enough to soothe me. And if it isn't, the way Jackson's body feels wrapped around mine surely is.

I must fall asleep relatively quickly, but I wake up a few hours later. It's still dark outside without a hint of sunrise, but something is wrong. My body feels off. I blink hard, trying to locate the problem, when I realize there's wetness between my legs. I slip one hand beneath the covers and pull it back out to find my fingers tinged red. I sit up with a gasp, then say his name.

"Jackson," I say, voice shaking. "Wake up." He grunts, moving to look at me as I say, "I'm bleeding."