Chapter 10
Mitchie stared back at Shane. Everyone left, murmuring excuses. "Shane, I'm sorry," she cried out. Shane shook his head. He sat down and took her in his arms, where she laid her head on his chest.
"It's not your fault, Mitchie. It's never your fault," he whispered.
"What are we going to do, Shane?"
Shane stared at this fifteen-year-old teen. Her eyes filled with tears and he choked back a scared sob too.
He didn't know what they would do.
A month passed with no sign of the person who shot Mitchie. Finally, she sat on the couch and flipped on the TV. "Stop looking for him," she said. Shane stopped pacing and stared at her.
"What?"
Mitchie, still staring at the TV, said as simply as breathing air, "Just let the guy go. He didn't kill me. And he's not worth it. He's just some low-life, maniac. Let it go."
Shane didn't know what to say. How could Mitchie be this calm about everything? She was almost dead because of this person. He sighed, hating that she was so nonviolent and sat beside her. Mitchie turned to him and smiled. "Besides, if he tries to come at me again, I'll have my knight and shining armor," she whispered, kissing his cheek. Shane turned and caught her lips. The faint smell of lilacs faded into the room.
Mitchie pulled away from Shane and saw Jason fumbling with flowers and a card. "Jason, what are you doing?" she stood up and grabbed the flowers, helping him. Jason smiled at her and pointed towards Gabriella's room.
"I'm gonna give her these. You know, I really like her," he explained. Mitchie nodded. Shane snorted. Mitchie glared at him.
"What's so funny about giving the girl you love flowers? Maybe you should try it sometime," Mitchie put the lilacs on the couch and ran to her bed. Shane looked at Jason.
"Mood swings," they agreed in unison. Shane's phone rang and he picked the slim silver phone up from the table.
"Hello? Who is this? I, I, but sir, okay. I'm sorry, sir. I'll get her," Shane sighed, his stomach turning violently. He pulled back the curtain Mitchie drew and handed her the phone. Mitchie looked at him, then at the phone. She heard her father's voice and gasped.
"Shane, get me that magazine you picked up yesterday, now," Mitchie turned her attention to her father, picking nervously at her pillow. "Dad, I'm sorry. I know, I'm only fifteen. But dad. No, no please," Mitchie began to cry. "Dad, don't do this to me." She blinked, looked at the phone, and dropped it on her bed. Shane handed her the magazine.
Mitchie gazed over the cover. Mitchie and Shane and a Baby? Those words were the headline. The headline to how her father found out. It talked about the pregnancy. It talked about rumors that disgusted Mitchie. She looked at Shane, something she had been doing for every minute. Her mind searched for words to say. All that came out was a helpless whimper.
Shane was there, holding her close to him and whispering things to her. What had he done to this mere fifteen-year-old teenager? He had destroyed everything she worked hard to get. Shane let out a tear and whispered so softly that Mitchie missed it, "I'm sorry, Mitchie."