~Chapter Thirteen~


Tell me I'm wrong, you sense a little bit of change.

You knew all along there'd come a day you'd have to face

~Better Than Ezra, The Loveless~


My father is sitting at the kitchen table, hands clasped in front of his mouth, a frustrated expression on his face. Something is very off. Actually, a couple of things aren't adding up. Dad is supposed to be at his office, working overtime. And he isn't going about his usual after-work routine. There is no newspaper spread out in front of him. He hasn't brewed any decaf coffee. His old, ratty slippers aren't on his feet.

The room is dark, too. Which is very odd for a sunny afternoon. My dad is big on letting the natural light illuminate every room in our home. My mother painted the kitchen bright yellow to "make the room happier," as she puts it. But today, the yellow-and-white checked curtains are closed. Gone is the uplifting atmosphere. I feel like I've stepped inside an interrogation room.

"Come have a seat, Bonnie Shelia Bennett." He points to the chair directly across from his.

I wrack my brain. I haven't done anything to warrant the use of my full name, have I? The last time either one of my parents pulled that card I was thirteen and they had caught me with a pack of Caroline's cigarettes.

I shake my head. "Can't Dad. I've got college applications to finish."

"Now!"

I drop my bag on the floor and hurry over to the hot seat.

"What's up?" I ask, "Did I leave a candle burning or something?"

My father raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "This is far more serious than forgetting to blow out a candle."

"I'm not following…"

"What is this?" He slides something across the table. It is a small square, lying face-down.

Please don't be what I think it is. I flip the card over.

Staring back at me is the ultrasound I've been carrying around. It is supposed to be with the rest of my school supplies in my bag.

And then my eyes land on the purple notebook wedged underneath Dad's elbow. It had been hiding amongst my English notes.

"This would be an ultrasound image."

"With your name on it."

I nod. "That would be correct."

"Honestly, I don't know what to say!"

"I understand," I say quickly, standing up. I've got to get out of here. "But those applications won't write themselves."

My father had other ideas—unfortunately. "You are not going anywhere, young lady."

I return to my chair, defeated.

"I don't know what's worse: the fact that my teenage daughter is pregnant or the fact that she hid it from her parents for two months!"

"I didn't hide it for two months."

If my father's eyebrows could go any higher, they would fly right off of his face. "I can read, Bonnie. That thing says nine weeks in the corner."

"… It's old." I reply, shrinking into the chair. I wish a black hole would appear in the middle of the kitchen and swallow me whole. "It's closer to four months."

"Four months!" My father yells. "You've been lying to us for four months?"

I flinch. "I technically didn't lie. I just didn't tell you guys."

"I'm not going to argue semantics with an eighteen year old!"

I nod slowly.

"How did this happen?"

I immediately picture Damon. He would have some… interesting… answers to that question. "I made a mistake."

"That's an understatement! We didn't even know you had a boyfriend!"

Fuck. This just keeps getting more and more uncomfortable. "I don't. It was a one-time thing."

"That's lovely, Bonnie. What were you thinking?" The anger in my father's voice is turning into sorrow.

"I wasn't." No need to mention the amount of alcohol that was involved.

"Who did this to you?"

I don't point out that it takes two to tango and I was a very eager participant. "…Damon Salvatore."

"And you both thought it would be a good idea to have a baby in high school?"

I shake my head fiercely. "I know it's not exactly a great idea, but we were taking care of everything."

"How were you doing that?"

I'm at a loss for words.

"Because from where I sit, you are in way over your head! How exactly were you planning on going to Yale?" he pauses, waiting for my reply. I have nothing. "How are you going to pay for everything a child needs?"

This I had considered. "Working. Over the summer… and on spring break."

"And when it's time to go off to college? Where will you live?"

"…I'm going to… Damon and I haven't talked about that yet. I'm sure we have to live in the same state."

"So what you're telling me is you are going to give up on going to a prestigious college to take care of some lowlife's mistake?"

My eyes are beginning to burn. "I guess I am."

"It was your dream to study journalism." Dad sounds heartbroken. "To move away from Mystic Falls and make a name for yourself!"

"I do want to be a journalist, but you and mom decided on which colleges were acceptable. I didn't get a choice. I don't get a say in much, but I know what I want—it just doesn't match what you want perfectly. Not anymore."

"And you think Damon's father's going to be happy about this?"

"No clue."

"Well, you're about to find out!"


Rebekah sighs dramatically for what seems like the millionth time in the last hour.

"Okay, I give up! What's the problem now?"

When Damon started fooling around with Rebekah, he didn't think about what it would be like to actually date her. He just figured it would be a lot of sex. In reality, there is a lot less sex and a lot more talking—which is more like demanding he do whatever she wants.

Take now, for instance.

Rebekah had insisted on making him go to the movies with her. He had agreed only because she wouldn't be able to open her mouth while the film was playing. He didn't account for the fact that she wanted to hold him hostage in the theater while the credits roll.

"I want to know what's going on with you and Bonnie Bennett."

"Nothing."

She rolls her eyes and purses her lips. "Then why do you spend more time with her than me?"

"I don't." Damon answers, "She and I are just friends."

She stands up and starts rooting around in the pocket of his leather jacket. She had refused to take it off since he let her borrow it. "Then what's this?"

She shoves Bonnie's nine-week scan in his face.

"Anyone with half a brain cell can figure out what that is."

"Why do you have it? I thought you hated her guts." Rebekah begins tapping her foot impatiently.

"I'm not playing twenty questions with you." Damon responds flatly.

"Is she really pregnant?"

Damon pretends to scrutinize the picture. "It looks like it to me."

Rebekah pulls the ultrasound away from him. "You had sex with her?"

"It's not that big a deal. I've had sex with a lot of people."

"Nobody cheats on me!" Rebekah stomps her foot.

He slaps himself in the forehead. "God, I didn't cheat on you! I hooked up with her before we started dating."

"Well… I'm not going to stick around if you're going to insist on playing house with that anal-retentive witch."

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out." Damon is surprised at how quickly those words come out of his mouth.

Rebekah's mouth is agape. "Really? You're choosing her over me?"

"I don't think I am."

"Whatever!" Rebekah tears his jacket off of her body and throws it on the candy-coated floor. She then rips his copy of the picture and flings it over her shoulder.

Damon listens as the sound of her heels clacking on the ground gets farther and farther away. He expects to feel a bit of anger—he's never been broken up with before—but he feels a rush of relief instead. As much as he enjoyed the physical aspect of their relationship, every other part of it truly sucked. Rebekah never really understood any of his witty comments, never challenged him or kept thing interesting.

He looks down at his tattered belongings. He wonders if sending Rebekah his dry-cleaning bill would be socially acceptable.

He picks up the pieces of the photo that landed in the aisle behind him. He's going to have to tape it back together before Bennett sees. He shakes his head. When did he start caring so much about her feelings? He can't come up with a definitive timeline and he think that maybe a part of him always has.