I don't remember anything after that. I don't remember making some excuse to Fang, walking to the store, buying the small blue box, telling Fang and Iggy and Nudge—she must be home by now—that I wasn't feeling well and was going to take a nap, locking myself in the basement bathroom…
But I must've, because suddenly I'm standing here in the cement-walled, windowless bathroom with the hideous ceiling light that looks like a starfish that never stops flickering—light, darkness, light, darkness, over and over again—and staring at the strip of plastic is my hand, that—in spite of everything I'd hoped for—is bright blue. The color seems to scream at me-You're pregnant! You're going to have a baby!—and I feel like throwing up. Or crying. Or both.
No no no no…
Light, darkness. Light, darkness.
I'm glad I locked the door. Nobody needs to see a girl sobbing as if her heart would break because her world is crumbling around her and she doesn't know what to do…
It takes a moment to realize that the girl is me.
Light, darkness. Light, darkness.
For what seems like an eternity I stay there, huddled on the cool tile floor—dark green and cream colored, unlike the one upstairs, honestly, whoever came up with these combinations must be colorblind—tears streaming silently down my cheeks, splashing onto my hand.
Light, darkness. Light, darkness.
C'mon, Max, you've got to pull yourself together! Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean it's the end of the world…
No, says a snarky little voice in the back of my head, it's just the end to life as you know it, that's all.
"Shut up," I tell it forcefully.
First sign of madness, talking to your own head, says the Voice suddenly, sounding very amused.
Light, darkness. Light, darkness.
"Stop flickering," I mutter.
Max, you've got some serious decision-making to do, the Voice intones. And this time you can't just think of your own needs.
"I know," I sigh. "But I don't have any options!"
You always have options, Max, the Voice replies. It's the only thing you can ever count on.
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