My stomach was churning, again, making it hard for me to stand. It felt sort of like the flu, except there were sharp pangs at my side that made me momentarily nauseous. A thought suddenly came to mind. How long had it been since—it happened? I squinted, trying to remember the exact day. March came to mind—I remembered it was close to Saint Patrick's Day. And there had been no school the next day, which had been Monday...so it was a Sunday night in March. It would seem weird to look at my calendar. But I knew that I should.

It was the weekend of Friday the 13th in March—I cringed with the dark humor. How ironic. So it had been March 15th. That's the day it had all started. And today was May 24th.

But instead, I thought of December. That was nine months from March; seven months from May. Would that be when...

I shuddered, holding my stomach. Seven months. Seven short months. I had to keep it together—I couldn't fall to my knees and start screaming—Charlie was asleep. The whole town was asleep. Even Jacob was probably passed out on his too-small bed, the blankets on the floor. It always ended this way. I was the one who needed everyone, even when I knew deep down that no one could fix me. Even Jacob, who would always come closest to putting me together, would never find the final pieces. Because I was permanently broken. And it was my own fault every time.


March fifteenth, I turned the two words over in my head again and again until they sounded meaningless, like a jumble of sounds. I wondered if Bella remembered the exact day, too. I sighed, kicking off the sheets so they landed on the floor. It was too hot, anyway.

Alright, so it was May. May twenty-something. That meant she was two months—I paused, mentally, trying to think of the term—two months, impregnated? Silently, I cringed. No, that wasn't the word. Two months with child? I hated that, though. With child sounded so...I don't know. Weird. Whatever it was, she was two months into the whole—I felt my breath quicken—pregnancy thing. And usually it was a nine-month cycle, that much I knew. So we had time. Seven months, if you wanted to be all mathematical, which I didn't, because numbers hurt. And ever since I'd met Bella they'd been weighing me down. Our age difference, for one thing. I was 16, she was 18. Not that it mattered to me but to her it was significant. And then there was her graduation in...well, less than a month. I'd been trying to push that one to the side for awhile now, but I knew it was going to resurface soon enough. Then there was this. These seven months of this one, continual nightmare. Welcome to my life.

But it was my life, and I knew that pretending it was going to disappear was stupid. Not only that, but it would hurt Bella, and I loved her. I knew that because the thought of running away from it made me sick. It was too like something the bloodsucker would do. And the thought of her body shaking in that awful way it had when he left, except it being because of me, was enough to keep me cemented here. I was staying. Nothing could move me.


"Because we have to, Jake," my voice was small, and I clutched the phone until my knuckles turned white. I was surprised the phone didn't have a dent in it when I looked.

"Today...would be bad," Jacob's husky voice came over the receiver and I could hear the concern—it was all too obvious. This had been the moment I'd been dreading. Planning on how to tell Charlie. It was inevitable that he'd find out, and I would be grounded until I died, or at least until he died. But I wasn't afraid of the grounding. I was more concerned about Jacob's life and the fact that Charlie owned a gun—and a license.

"Yes," I agreed, sucking in a deep breath, "But any day we tell Charlie would be a bad day. And the longer we wait, the worse."

There was a tangible silence on the other end, and then a crumpling of paper. I could tell Jacob was shuffling through his drawers.

"And no, Jacob," I rolled my eyes, "you're not going to write him a letter. Just—I don't know. Come over for dinner, okay?"

"I wasn't going to write a letter to Charlie," he sounded defensive, but still nervous, "I was going to write a letter to Billy, telling him good-bye one last time before your dad kills me."

I groaned, turning to make sure the cruiser hadn't pulled into the driveway yet. "Charlie likes you, remember?"

"Correction, Bells," Jacob's tone had regained its natural sarcasm, "Charlie liked me."

I hated to admit it, but he was right. As much as my father had favored Jacob, this was going to change everything. But I didn't let that stop me. I was determined.

"Technically he still likes you, since he doesn't know yet." I sniffed, rearranging the magnets on the fridge. Anything to keep me occupied.

Jacob snorted, "Oh, how reassuring, Bella."

I sighed, glancing at the window again.

"I'll make lasagna tonight, and tell Charlie I have some news, alright? And you," I swallowed the lump in my throat, "are going to get your butt over here around six."

"Charlie doesn't even know we're," Jacob paused, "er—together. If we are, I mean." he paused again, "Wait, are we?"

A car pulled in, and I knew Charlie was home. It was four.

"I don't—yes, we are. And Charlie just got home, so I'm going to start dinner, and you're coming over at six, right?"

Jacob sighed. "But—"

I glanced at the door, "I'll hide his gun, okay?"

Jacob groaned, "Really, Bella?"

"Six!" I hissed, slamming the phone down so hard that I had to make sure it was still functioning. Charlie pushed the door open, hanging his gun by the coat rack.

"Hey, Dad. I'm going to make lasagna—and is it alright if Jake comes over around six?" I shuffled towards the fridge, pulling out the tomato sauce and parmesan. Charlie took off his jacket, yawning.

"Fine by me," he sat down at the little table and flipped to the sports section of the newspaper that had been lying there. I mentally cursed myself. Jacob was right. Charlie probably would kill him, not that it'd be surprising. Just a really, really bad addition to the stress in my life.

"You like it with extra cheese, right?" my voice was shaky, but thankfully my father never noticed those sorts of details.

He just nodded, smiling so that the age lines showed.

I tried to ignore the growing dread that threatened to ruin my composure, and silently focused on making at least the food an enjoyable part of this night.


The lasagna was in the oven, and I had to admit that the smell made my stomach growl. I rinsed out the mixing bowl as a knock came at the door. Jacob.

I yanked the door open, glancing quickly behind my shoulder to make sure the gun was still in its place.

"I was even a little early,"

I looked up—Jacob was wearing a black dress shirt and his short crop which usually stuck out every which way had been carefully combed and maybe even gelled, so that it glinted from the light. He smiled grimly as he stepped through the door.

"What is that smell?" I stifled a cough, raising an eyebrow. Jacob rolled his eyes, untying his shoes.

"Cologne. It's some of Sam's."

He shrugged at my expression. "What? I can't play it up a little?"

I scoffed, my eyes widening as I whispered, "You're trying to impress Charlie?"

"Sure, sure," he stretched, glancing over me to make sure Charlie was glued to the TV, "Call it what you want."

"Ugh," I groaned, eyeing the stove, "Maybe you were right...we should have waited."

"Well I'm already here now," Jacob crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. I sighed.

"I know. Here, watch the lasagna while I hide the gun, okay?"

Jacob just snorted, turning towards the kitchen.


"I have to say Jake, you fix up nicely," Charlie commented through his mouthful of food, glancing at Jacob, "But we Swans aren't too formal. Don't have to get all dressed up, you know."

"Yeah," Jacob forced a smile, "I just like to make sure I look nice when I go out."

I threw him an exasperated look from across the table. He shrugged.

"Hmph," Charlie grunted, nodding, "Guess I never would've taken you for a formal guy," he took another bite out of the lasagna, "No offense."

"None taken." Jacob shook his head, glancing at me. This whole dinner had been uncomfortable, like those awkward moments you hope never happen to you, but know that at one time or another, will. I cringed as I realized I had finished my last bite, and Charlie was finishing his dinner off. Jacob, of course had already eaten four helpings and was patting his phenomenally flat stomach.

"Well," Charlie finally coughed, leaning back in his chair. "That was great, Bells."

"Sure was," Jacob agreed. I forced a smile, grabbing their plates.

"Why don't we all go sit in the living room," I suggested meekly, rinsing the dishes in the sink. Charlie looked confused.

"Hmph," he coughed, wiping his mouth on a napkin. I sighed.

"I've got some, uh, news."

My legs felt like Jell-O as I followed Charlie and Jacob into the suddenly too-small living room, and motioned for Charlie to sit on the sofa. He blinked at me, then glanced over at Jacob who sat, barely-fiiting, in the recliner. I sat on the sofa next to Charlie with hopes of making minimal eye contact.

"Okay," my voice squeaked, "So, uh,"

Charlie sniffled, and shifted on the couch so that he faced me. Jacob coughed.

"I have some news, dad," I swallowed, glancing at the carpet, "Actually, Jacob, would you like to tell him?"

"No," Jacob shook his head, "It's all yours."

I knew it was—and I also knew that if Jacob were to tell him, Charlie would somehow kill him even without the gun. He probably had a backup tucked under the couch cushions.

"Okay," I smiled again, aware of Charlie's confused expression. "Well, Jacob and I have been hanging out a lot lately, as you know," I stumbled over the words, glancing at Jacob's frozen expression. "And, you see," I inhaled sharply, "Some things have changed between us."

Charlie's eyebrows pulled together as he looked at Jacob, then back at me again.

"So, you're trying to tell me that you two are dating?" he said slowly.

"Yes,"

"No,"

Jake and I blurted simultaneously, only causing the situation to grow more awkward. Charlie grunted,

"What—"

"Well, yes," I nearly shouted, "That's part of it, but—uh, there's something else." I could see the color slowly draining out of Jacob's face.

"Hmph," Charlie grunted again, squinting, "So you guys kissed then?"

My eyes widened.

"Y-yes, but," I stammered, focusing on the freckle on my thumb. Charlie coughed.

"But what?"

I could feel myself about to hurl. I swallowed to keep it down. Somewhere I could see my life flashing before my eyes...goodbye world I sighed, knowing that life as I knew it was over.

"I'm...pregnant."


It had taken me a few moments to realize my eyes were squeezed shut. I had thought the lights had been turned out—or I'd died. Either one.

I dared myself to look at Charlie, but looked at Jacob instead. The look on his face explained it all.

Charlie didn't budge—but his face was turning purple. I could see his lip begin to twitch.

"Dad, please say something," I stuttered, blinking stupidly. Charlie's face was dangerously still, except the twitching lip. I'd only seen this face once, and that had been when the car had been totaled and even then he'd looked slightly less insane.

"Jacob." my father's voice sounded like jagged knife being dragged across a chalk board. I cringed.

"Sir, I—" Jacob's formality only caused Charlie to blindly fumble for his usually holstered gun.

"DO. NOT. CALL. ME. SIR." Charlie's voice quivered. Jacob nodded, raising both hands in surrender.

"Yes, Ch—"

"GUN." Charlie hissed, glancing over at the rack, growling when he noticed it wasn't there.

"No, Dad—just—calm down!" I pleaded, throwing Jacob a knowing look. I silently cursed myself for not planning an emergency escape earlier.

"We didn't plan for this to—" Jacob tried to reason, but Charlie cut him off, rising to his feet.

"DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT ALL BOYS ARE AFTER!" Charlie's voice ricocheted off the walls, booming, "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER! MY ONLY DAUGHTER!"

He started to step towards Jacob, who, though he was at least 5 inches taller, looked terrified. I chewed my nail.

"I really," Jacob started but Charlie's eye twitched.

"JUST LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! YOU—YOU—FILFTHY PERVERT! YOU—"

"Dad!" I pleaded, grabbing his sleeve, but he shrugged me off. "And YOU young lady, are GROUNDED!"

"But—"

"FOREVER! NOW WHERE IS MY GUN!" he stomped towards the rack, and I mouthed 'run' to Jacob, who had, by now, already planned on it.

"DAMMIT BELLA, WHERE IS THE RIFLE!?" he shouted, turning a darker shade of purple. Almost eggplant-esque.

I didn't bother to answer as Jacob high-tailed it and headed for the backdoor.

"YOU—" Charlie shouted after him, "ARE DEAD! GOT THAT?" his voice was near cracking with anger, "DEAD!"


"Bella," I heard Jacob's voice by my ear and felt his warm hand on my face, then I heard Charlie grumbling.

"Don't touch her," his voice was rough, but forgiving, "Please."

Jacob's hand pulled away from my cheek, and I opened my eyes, squinting at the light. Charlie's grim face came into view as he lifted me up, setting me on the couch.

"Wha?" I asked, rubbing my temple. Charlie sighed.

"You fainted, Bells. You were out a few minutes. Scared me half to death."

I searched for Jacob, who was sitting on the recliner again, his eyes on me. I bit my lip.

"Sorry," I mumbled, trying to recall if it'd all been a dream or not.

"Don't apologize, Bells," Charlie grumbled, but reached out and propped a pillow up behind me. I caught Jacob's eye, but for once, I couldn't read his expression.

"I didn't mean about fainting," I whispered, dropping my stare. Charlie froze, taking a deep breath.

"Oh," he muttered, turning to face Jacob for a slight moment. I recalled the strange dream I'd had, and was suddenly glad for this somewhat rational moment.

"Well," Charlie sighed, "I think it's too late for apologies."

I gulped—he was right.

"And Jacob," he nodded at Jacob who was slumped over the chair, "You and I are gonna talk."

Jacob nodded, "Sure, sure,"

"But first, water. I need water," Charlie's face was covered in perspiration as he rose up and headed for the kitchen. I rubbed my temple again, trying to massage away my pounding headache. Jacob sighed.

"Dr. Rice is your doctor, right Bells?" Charlie re-entered the room, a notepad in his hand. I stared in awe.

"Um, yes,"

"Okay, well we'll er—make you an appointment then, I suppose," he nodded, heading back towards the living room. Admittedly, Charlie was reacting differently than I'd anticipated. Better.

"I know I seem—" Charlie paused, sitting back on the sofa, "Calmer than usual." he leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. "And I am angry. Don't get me wrong. But given the circumstance," he glanced at Jacob, then at my stomach, and his face softened so that his eyes looked suddenly sad. I swallowed the guilt.

"Given the circumstance I think you need your Dad right now, not some grumbling lunatic," his mouth hinted at a smile but it faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling the tears welling up, but I blinked them away. Charlie kissed my forehead, sighing loudly as he motioned for Jacob to follow him.

"Outside, Jake. We need to talk."