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Sam: Come ovr, I need 2 c u

Tucker: Wen u want me 2 come

Sam: asap

Tucker: kk

Tucker got over to Sam's about an hour later, wearing a backpack too. It was ten o'clock on a rainy Sunday morning when he rang the doorbell to Chez Manson. He wasn't nervous. 'I need to see you,' did not strike the fear of God into him. So he arrived, eager, and with protection in his back pocket. They had been kinda inconsistent about it, but after Friday, after the two of them had a talk, the came to some conclusions. First and most obviously, that Danny was not their friend. Second, that they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Third, that they were now officially together (meaning they would show public displays of affection). Fourth, now that Danny Phantom was not any of their problem, they could do whatever. Fifth, they would not be helping Danny with anymore of that 'ghosty shit', as they called it. Finally, she committed silently to herself that she would actually try to make this thing work out.

She did not know how long she was going to last in the relationship because of what was going on with her. She had been feeling sick in the mornings for a while now. She had blamed the Danny situation at first. I mean come on, he was all about lying to them from the very beginning. He withheld important information for the entirety of their relationship. But there was no need to beat this dead horse.

She thought, in the beginning, her body was having the psychosomatic signs of disgust with Danny. What was disgusting her, of course, were all the lies. But she knew that this stuff wasn't subconscious. No matter how badly Danny had fucked with her psyche, she knew he was not omnipotent and omniscient. He was a mighty specimen, but could not control that. He didn't have the power to make her period late. He didn't have the ability to make her feel sick, or make her lose her breakfast.

She couldn't blame Danny for the veins becoming more prominent on her thighs or her breasts getting heavier. She knew she could not blame puberty either. That was not a good enough explanation for it.

When she let Tucker in, he leant towards her and gave her a kiss on those full lips of hers. That kiss turned into something deeper as his hands found their way around her waist. It was always interesting how a peck on the lips turned to swapping saliva, but their 'dysfunction' was always interesting. He had a plan for today.

He knew that if he could play his hand right that maybe he could get her to try something new. She was the adventurous type. I mean come on, she was willing take it outside, on a mountaintop. And she had liked it too, especially angry. She was a feisty specimen when there was emotion to her sex. He thought he put in an adequate service. If you asked her, she would say that he was more than adequate, proficient, expert. Of course this was the only man she had ever had the pleasure of experiencing, but her estimation of his skillset made her quite sure that, objectively, he was good. Length, check. Girth, check. Duration, check plus plus.

He thought highly of her in that regard too. Tightness, check. Wetness, check. Warmth, check plus plus. He deepened the kiss and caressed her body. The curves on her were exceptional in his opinion. He felt this way because the flesh always seemed to fit perfectly into his hands. No curve on her had gone untouched, un-tickled, or un-licked. Conversely, her mouth had been in places beside his mouth. She was a good kisser above and below. And her willingness to kiss below was also admirable. Her skill in kissing would be world renowned. His only complaint was washing the dark lipstick out of his pubes later. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, that was a trivial complaint.

Of course she was so eager to because he had no problem having a meal down there. He had no problem whatsoever eating the cookie, or biscuit or whatever you like to call it. Her only complaint was that he would occasionally need to rise to breathe.

Enough of that. Methinks you get it.

Tucker had wanted, as was previously said, to try something new today. He had the supplies with him in his bag. He, as also aforementioned, knew that the semantics in approaching this whole thing. He had seen it in porn before, and the girls looked like they were into it, like seriously into it. (Of course, porn girls were a good, no, the BEST gauge for the attitudes of real women.) He had the endless supply of lube, he had the rubbers, he had the will, he had the lines to say planned out in his head. It was all up to her, as it should be in these situations. He really wanted to go for it, but he could not be sure. Anal was the last frontier. He did not know if he could plant the flagpole that day, but he planned to claim that ass in the name of Foley if it killed him.

They let each other go, because biology dictates that humans require oxygen to live. She looked at him nervously. She was moist, he was hard (she had to rip her eyes away from that to look him in the eye). She didn't know what to do. Tell him and ruin his very good time, or let him have his way and then tell him.

After a moment she thought that it would be wrong to string him along. Tucker went in for another kiss and she backed away.

"No, Tucker," she spoke gently, "We have to talk. It's important."

"Oh?" His voice had the slight twang of fear in it.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Let's go upstairs."

The walk down her hallway felt like a mile to Tucker. His prick went back to its normal state as he walked the mile. Things were starting to click in his head. Danny had set some thoughts in motion. That whole 'it's reassuring to know that you're not fucking her while she's bleeding.' comment gave him pause. The reason he had shoved Danny off the table is because he knew that Danny was right. It pissed him off that Danny had thought of an angle that he had not considered. Other than that first time, when he broke the hymen, she had not bled, not fucking once. He, Tucker Foley, knew the undeniable and now inconvenient facts of life. He knew that girls were supposed to have periods, but she hadn't, not once.

When he started having sex with her, he knew that periodically (pun intended) she was supposed to refuse him entry because of… you know. And that never happened. And they had been fucking for something like eight weeks. He wasn't an expert, far from it. He knew that that bleeding thing varied from girl to girl, but wouldn't a normal girl have had at least one by now. He tried with all his might to dismiss those thoughts. But he couldn't shake them. The thoughts were too real, too… true. He wanted to kick himself for ignoring the signs. It looked like reality was going to do the kicking for him, a million times better than he ever could,

His heart started pounding out of his chest. He could hear it beating in his ears. Panic was something he had grown accustomed to. Fighting ghosts had a way of testing your heart muscles. This kind of panic was different. It was a slow, creeping, crawling growing dread. Fighting ghosts was like dropping an atom bomb. The panic he was feeling right now was more like being on fire. The pain was slow to start, but sustained.

They arrived in her bedroom. He sat on the bed and he watched her pace. She was nervous too. Their nerves multiplied each other. They fed off of each other's skittishness.

"Tucker, I don't know how to say this. All my life I promised myself that I wouldn't be the one this happened to. I would let the popular girls go through it. I was supposed to be the smart girl, laughing at or judging the girls this happened to." She shrieked, "It can't fucking be me! Not fucking me!" He could have sworn that he saw some moisture running down her cheeks. "I'm not supposed to be the slut. Not me!"

"Sam will you just tell me," Tucker said, "I think I have an idea. Just be honest with me and tell me what it is. I know that whatever it is, you and me can make it work. We can figure our way out of any problem" He reached out his hand. She grabbed it and proceeded to sit on his lap. He turned her face towards his. And he got the affirmative proof that she had been crying. Her cheeks had dark black streaks from the tears mixing in with mascara and black eyeliner. Her usually limpid, violet eyes were read and stained with tears, He sort of nudged her to look at him. "Now, tell me what's wrong, Sam?"

"I think I'm pregnant." She blurted it out. She wanted to bury her head in his shoulders but something made here get up and start pacing again.

"What?" Tucker said, not so much surprised at the news but taken aback that she wasn't sure, "What do mean 'think'? You mean you're not sure?"

"I mean 'think'. What does 'think' mean? I have an opinion, a belief, an idea. It just ain't quite fact yet. I haven't taken a test yet, but all the signs are there. I'm throwing up, stressed out, gaining weight, headaches. I'm tired all the time. I know that I don't feel normal."

"Did you take a test?" He asked lost in all of her dramatics.

"No, I already told you Tucker," Sam said, "I didn't."

"Are you sure, Sam?" Tucker asked, "You sure it's not just stress? I know this whole Danny situation-"

"Has nothing to do with it." Sam completed the thought, "I don't allow dramatic, lying, unctuous bitches to affect me like that." Fangs were out. Tucker sure as hell was not getting bitten.

"Fine."

"No, not fine," Sam said, hysterical. "I'm pregnant."

"You just said that you weren't sure." Tucker said.

"Tucker, I haven't had my period in weeks. And we were irresponsible a few times. " She said, still pacing frantically.

"Are you sure though?" The news was not resonating with him. She was bouncing off of the walls and he was a statue.

"Tucker, if your period stops it means your pregnant." She reminded him of some of the information learned in sex-ed.

"Are you sure it stopped. You know like stress can make it irregular. And you're a vegan or a ultra-recyclo-vegetarian or whatever so you don't get enough protein and iron. Maybe that, coupled with the stress of the whole Phantom situation has you all stopped up." Tucker was trying his best to find an alternative explanation. He was grasping for straws as the truth was dawning on him. He turned around and glanced out of the window. The sky was darkening as much as his mood was. The drops that clung onto the window held his attention for a split second. He escaped for a moment, but then, like one of those drops of rain, came back down to earth.

"No, Tucker, mine are really heavy."

"What?"

"My period is like the elevator doors in The Shining."

The image stuck with him as she walked over to her drawer. She opened it and scooped a bunch of boxes out it. She dumped them onto the bed. He looked at them, all six of them and realized what they were. If he wanted the proof, he could have it in ten minutes or less. He did not know that there were so many brands, but he did now. He looked up at her.

"I uh," She sat down beside him and started to open the boxes, tearing them like an animal, "I'm gonna take all of these, cuz you know, they're not a hundred percent."

She emerged from her bathroom with all six of the pregnancy tests in a clear plastic cup. The cup had obviously been used as a receptacle for her piss. She had used it and tipped them all in. After they were given a perfect sample to test, she dumped the piss. Enchantress that she was, she handed the cup to him. It was still warm, but he held back his feelings of disgust. He knew that his life was in the balance, so a warm piss cup was the last thing he cared about. They sat looking at each other. The first and most expensive test claimed that a result would pop up in sixty seconds. The rest all took between three and five minutes. The looked at the clock on her wall. Yes, she actually had a clock on her wall. It was one of those expensive ones with the sweeping second hands. Not ticking.

They both watched as the red hand made a revolution around the clock face, and then another, and then a third.

"What are we going to do?" Sam asked, in a low sob. "What are we going to do?"

"We'll be fine, no matter what happens." Tucker seemed optimistic, "I mean we live in these United States of America… and I mean.. we have a lot of… options"

Sam didn't know what he meant, exactly. And to be honest with you, that was a bit of a riddle. She just thought of it as one of the reasons she liked him. When he wasn't kicking Danny's ass for shit-talking, he was an optimist. She didn't know, even in the face of their innocence being completely ended, how he could keep being relatively cheerful. When it didn't annoy her, it endeared him to her, it made him less cartoonish and more human. She thought to herself stuck in a farce, a dark comedy. It was as if someone was writing out her life for her and that author decided to put her through hell. She shook her head and chuckled ironically.

"I mean." Tucker said, interrupting her thoughts, "There but for the grace of God, go us."

"Tucker, we're both atheists." She huffed half laughing, half scoffing. "The magic invisible man ain't coming to help us with shit."

"Fine." Tucker said, agreeing with her.

"I'm sorry, I'm just stressed out, ok?"

"I am too."

"I'm the one with the vagina." She said.

"Look," Tucker started, "I'm not going to argue with you right now. There's no time for this. We are sitting here waiting for the results of pregnancy test. We are sitting here knowing the inevitable. If it's true, and it looks like it is, then our fucking lives are over as we know it. School is done, friends are done. I don't know about your parents, but Tucker Foley will be out in the street, destitute. You're the heiress to a billion dollar fortune, but as fucking backwards as your parents are I don't know how your parents would accept your kid.

"My kid?" Sam said, "Nuh uh, Mister, you mean our kid."

"That's what I meant."

"That's not what you said," She replied. "Two to tango, two to fucking tango."

"You're right. All I was saying was that I don't know how your parents will accept the kid given the kid's circumstances."

"Don't play the race card." Sam scoffed, "They're not racists. They're not like that"

"That's not what I'm saying." Tucker replied calmly "I mean the kid is a bastard," He whispered the last word.

"Oh," Sam said, "I see. I don't know."

"Why would I bring up race?" Tucker furrowed his eyebrow. "I seriously hadn't thought of it."

"I'm sorry, I'm really fucking tense and that's where my mind went. I know that my parents don't have any feelings about it. I know my parents are all-"

"Sam," Tucker authoritatively took control of this, "Calm down."

"I might be pregnant, how are you telling me to calm down," Sam almost screamed.

"I might be the father, and I'm calm."

"But Tucker, don't you understand- This is-"

"Samantha," Tucker said, catching her attention. He was the first and only one who could refer to her as 'Samantha' without getting punched out. Not even when they were all friends could Danny dare to utter her name in three syllables. Tucker continued in his earnest attempt to mollify her anxiety ridden nerves. "This, all of these hysterics, is you leaving Earth. If you are pregnant, you need to keep calm, because it's not just you who's stressed. Everything you do will be for two from now on. So stop stressing. Let's calm down before you do an injury to yourself. Let's come back down to Earth and try to think this all the way through. Hell, you might not even be pregnant. It could be stress or something else. Let's answer the big questions first."

"Fine," She looked back at the clock, and shut her eyes so tight that it almost hurt. "It's been seven minutes now. Can you read them?" She mouth shut into a thin line and she grasped his hand. "I can't look at them. I'm freaking out too much."

"Okay, Sam, I'll read them." It was like drawing straws as he withdrew one of the tests He looked at the printed guide on it which told him that a light blue cross would appear in the little window if she was pregnant. "This one is positive."

Tucker put it back in the cup and took out another of the tests. She squeezed his hand even tighter, feeling the full length, breadth, height and depth of dread filling her, drowning her and crushing her. On this one, the second of the half dozen tests, two pink lines were supposed to appear if the subject was pregnant. And two pink lines there were. "This one is positive too."
The third one was fancy and had a digital sort of display. It said 'pregnant', "And this one."

It continued in the same fashion for the next three test. They all agreed.

Samantha Manson was with child and Tucker Foley was the father.

"We're fucked, aren't we?" Tucker asked.

"That's putting it mildly." Sam answered.

"And to think I had plans today. We were going to do all sorts of shit. Well, if you wanted to." Tucker said.

"I would've done anything. There were some things I was curious about too, wanted to try, but not now."

"Like what?" Tucker asked.

"Just try some things, but it doesn't matter now."

"I mean, Sam, do you think of this as like a problem?"

"Yes, I mean you don't, man?" Sam asked him

"I mean of course, but I mean… there's options." He was a stammering mess as he lay down, " there's options. I mean there's ways of fixing it. We can fix it. I know we can."

"Can we?" Sam was perplexed. Now of course, most people can put together what Tucker meant. It was flying right above her head as she reclined beside him. They both stared at Samantha's ceiling, pondering what the fuck they had managed to get themselves into.

"Yes, Sam. There's a clinic in Elmerton, not that we should go to that shithole. The next closest one is in Cosgrove town, if I'm not mistaken and I think there's one in Clarendon County. It's not too hard in this state. On demand, and our parents don't need to know a thing."

"Tucker… oh shit… you're not talking about… Abortion…"

"What choice do we have, Sam?"

"But, it's a baby-"

"Sam, sacrifice is the story of our lives. For all these years this whole Danny-chasing-ghosts-thing, was us giving up our lives to save this asshole town from these asshole ghosts. This summer we have been free for the first time in months, No responsibility, just being teenagers."

"And look where this 'no responsibility' thing got us?"

"Granted, the two of us made some really shitty decisions. But should our lives be over as we know it because we had sex without protection? I'm sorry, but all this time I have wasted in my life giving up my freedom saving this town every ten seconds. I like being free and I don't want to give that up." Tucker said, laying the groundwork of his argument.

"I don't either, but it's not this person's fault." She pointed at her belly, "This little one didn't ask us to be put in this place."

"No, but what good would it be if that kid grew up knowing that he was an accident? What kind of way is that to live?" Tucker asked.

"I don't know Tucker, this is a whole 'nother person here." She said, "This kid could be an astronaut."

"And what about us… we'll be nothing." Tucker argued, "And besides, what happened to all that liberal pro-choice stuff you say in school."

"I can choose to keep the baby too," Sam said, rising to pace again, "I don't know what to do."

"We have options."

"Fuck that whole options and choice shit. Why don't you make the choice for me?" Sam yelled at him.

"Let's go, right now then and do it before it's too late." Tucker said.

"But I don't want to," she said.

"Then, congratulations Samantha Manson, you're having a baby!" He yelled, "And you're dragging Tucker Foley down with you."

"I don't want to have a baby." Sam said.

Tucker stood up, "Then what do you want?"

"I don't know." She collapsed into him and sobbed into him.

"Well, ummm," Tucker felt the words leaving his mouth, but he disagreed with them most vehemently, "Sam, I know this is some tough shit, and I know that I'm not the best in a pinch like this. But I know this, you're smart, you're pretty, and either way we'll be fine. You have some time to think about it. The door is still wide open and um… no matter what you decide, I'll stick by you. We're in this together. I know that you have a lot to think about. You've been selfless all your life, maybe this once, you can be selfish and give yourself a chance at a better, freer life, just this once. You deserve that. As fucked up as we are, I think we deserve better."

"Me too," Sam said, "I don't know what that means quite yet, but I want to live for me."

Tucker stiffened up a bit. That was not reassurance. She was a woman after all and a woman can say one sentence and mean three knew that the next few weeks would be him waiting. Waiting for her to decide. There was no way that this discussion was over.

He tightened his end of the hug, afraid of what the future held.