Chapter 9
As far as peaceful spots went, Clarke's back porch was about as peaceful as they came. Sitting in the shade, in a comfy chair with the sound of the ocean waves gliding up onto the beach was always nice. Sometimes she liked to sit out there and read. But for some reason, she felt compelled to take her guitar out of her closet, bring it outside, and try to play a couple songs. It was horribly out of tune, though, since she hadn't played it in so long.
"Well, this looks relaxing."
She glanced up when she heard her a familiar voice. "Hi, Kane," she said as her mom's boyfriend walked around the side of the house. "Yeah, I haven't played for a while, so I just thought . . . why not?" She strummed a chord, cringing. Still didn't sound right.
"You should play more often," he suggested, pulling up a chair next to her so he could sit down.
"Don't have time," she said. "Classes, studying, work . . . it keeps me busy."
"Well, if it's something you love, you should make time."
Little did he know, she had doctor's appointments in her future, and plenty of time that would be devoted to taking care of a baby after that. "I'll try," she said, setting her guitar aside. "So what brings you here?"
"I was hoping to talk to you," he replied.
"About?"
"About your mom."
"She's crazy, Kane. Get out now while you still can," she joked, eliciting a chuckle from him. "Kidding," she mumbled. Her mom was actually pretty level-headed most of the time. Most of the time.
"You know I love her," he said, "and you know I love you."
"Gettin' weird now."
He bent forward, elbows on his knees, and folded his hands together. "I was just wondering how you would feel if I . . . proposed to her."
She made a face. "Grossed out, mostly. I don't wanna think about my mom going on a honeymoon and having sex."
Kane gave her a look.
"No, all jokes aside . . . I'd be happy for you guys," she told him. There had been a point in the immediate months following her parents' divorce that she'd hoped neither one of them would ever date someone else, let alone re-marry. But she saw how happy Kane made her mother and how happy she made him, so how could she not root for them? "You've been really good for her, and it's been nice having you around ever since my dad moved away."
"So I'd have your blessing?" he asked.
Although that was typically the kind of thing fathers gave, her mom's father wasn't alive anymore. So perhaps the responsibility did fall to her. "Wow. Never thought I'd give anyone my blessing," she said. "But yes, you'd have it. And my permission. Whatever you need."
"Great," he said smiling. "I just wanted to run it by you first."
She did appreciate that. It'd always felt like Kane respected her and respected that it wasn't easy to make room for a second father figure in life. He'd never forced his way into their family; it'd happened naturally. "When are you gonna do it?" she asked him.
"I'm not quite sure. Before the end of the year, probably," he speculated. "I have to get a ring first. I wanna give her something custom-made. Maybe you could help me out with that?"
"Sure." She knew her mom's taste in jewelry pretty well, and she could make sure Kane designed a ring that looked completely different than her last engagement ring.
"And a romantic proposal, too," he added. "Something she won't expect."
"I'm sure we can come up with something," she said, picking up her guitar again. "In the meantime, my lips are sealed. I won't drop any hints."
"I appreciate that." He sighed, stood up, and said, "Well, I'll let you get back to playing. Oh, but you will be at the carnival tomorrow, right?"
"Of course." She'd requested the whole day off work just to be there for his big event.
"Alright. Thanks, Clarke. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, waving as he headed down the porch steps.
"Bye," she said, trying a different chord on her guitar. Dammit. Still out of tune.
...
Bellamy felt a nerf football hit his chest, and he jolted awake.
"About time," Octavia growled impatiently. "I've been yelling at you to wake up for five minutes. I didn't wanna get too close in case you were naked under there."
He looked himself over, and since he wasn't wearing a shirt and only had boxers on underneath the covers, he could see why she assumed he might be. "I'm not," he informed her.
"Good. Can we talk for a minute?"
"About Lincoln?" He rubbed his tired eyes. "I'd rather not."
"No, about Clarke."
Well, that got his attention, obviously. But it was still first thing in the morning, and this had been one hell of a rude awakening, so he wasn't sure it was the right time to talk about her.
"You didn't tell me she was pregnant," Octavia bit out almost accusatorily.
"'cause it's not my secret to tell."
"Yeah, but . . . that would've been nice to know." She paced around his room, huffing and shaking her head. "Do you have any idea how awkward that was for me? I felt horrible. I just automatically assumed that if Clarke was having a baby, you'd be the father, but . . ." She trailed off, her forehead scrunching up in confusion. "Who is the father, anyway? Are you sure it's not you?"
"Ex-boyfriend," he explained.
"Oh, god. She's really up a creek without a paddle then," Octavia remarked. "No wonder you guys haven't gotten back together. That's dramatic."
Yeah, unfortunately, it was. When he'd come back to Arkadia, he'd been hoping that she might still somehow be single, that they might be able to just pick up where they'd left off. But fate had other plans.
"Clarke's pregnant," Octavia said as she continued to pace. "She's pregnant."
Suddenly, from the kitchen, he heard his mother shriek, "What?" She came running into the bedroom, a look of alarm on her face.
"Oh, no, it's not what you think, Mom," Octavia told her. "It's not Bellamy's."
He felt like rolling over onto his stomach and going right back to sleep.
"What's going on?" his mother spat out.
He really didn't feel like talking about Clarke's situation any further, especially since Clarke hadn't wanted either of these two to know about it yet. So he blurted, "Octavia's dating a twenty-six year old," in hopes of getting his mother focused on something else. And it worked.
"What?!" she boomed.
"Bellamy!" Octavia hissed. "Ugh!" She stomped down the hall, and their mother followed.
"Octavia Blake, you get back here right now!"
Bellamy laughed lightly and rolled over onto his side to shut his eyes again.
...
Kane's carnival had become a big community event over the years. They didn't have a county fair anymore, ever since a kid had died on a ride, so this was the next best thing. Clarke knew it took a lot of work to put on, so she was more than willing to do whatever she could to make it a success. And usually that involved working at the kissing booth.
She showed up at 1:00 in the afternoon to relieve Raven from her duties. "Oh, thank god you're here," Raven said dramatically as she stepped into the booth. "If I had to kiss one more of these guys, I was gonna go crazy."
"Sleazebags?" Clarke assumed, making a face.
"Yes. And the only sleazebag I'm interested in kissing is my boyfriend."
Clarke laughed. "Well, thanks for holding down the fort."
"Yeah. Good luck." Raven grabbed her purse and was out of that booth in an instant.
Clarke took a seat and looked out at the long line of awaiting men, all eager to get a smooch. There were a few girls mixed in there, too, though, so she was probably the perfect person for this job. "Alright, come on up," she invited, putting on a happy face.
Kissing booths were sort of a sexist thing, but they made a lot of money, and all the money this carnival made was going towards a good cause. And Clarke had never had anybody cross the line with it. Everyone pretty much respected that a kiss in this instance was nothing more than a quick peck on the lips. No making out, no tongue. Everything was very PG.
One after another, she puckered up and kissed the people in that line. Some were people from high school, and many of the others were guys she'd seen around campus. Most of the older men steered clear of the kissing booth in fear of appearing pervy, and that was just fine with her. Younger boys, however, were pretty brazen.
"Are you eighteen?" Clarke skeptically asked a kid with pimples all over her his face.
"No," he admitted sheepishly.
"Then I'm not kissing you," she said. "Next!"
The line seemed endless, and the bad breath some people possessed made her want to gag. She took frequent water breaks just to get the taste of so many mouths out of hers, and that helped some.
A guy who looked like he'd emerged from his basement solely for this somehow managed to make a peck on the lips an awful kiss, and as if that weren't cringey enough, he even asked, "Would you like to go out sometime?" afterward.
"Nope, sorry," she said, having found that it was best to just let them down quickly. "Next!"
The line gradually started to dwindle about an hour and a half after Clarke had shown up. She'd volunteered to do this for an hour and an hour only, but since it didn't seem like any other girl was showing up to take her place, she decided to just go ahead and finish it out herself.
When it came to the last guy in line, he was just sort of nice and nerdy. He thanked her, and she said, "You're welcome," wondering if he ever got any kisses in his life. He seemed so grateful to have just gotten this one. "And I'm done," she proclaimed. The guy taking tickets had cut the line off about fifteen minutes ago, so he gave her a thumbs up and flipped around a sign that said Closed next to the kissing booth banner.
She was just about to get up and leave when she heard, "Wait a minute, hold up! Hold up!" In the distance, she saw Bellamy running her way with a couple of pink carnival tickets.
The guy manning the booth shook his head and tried to tell him it was closed now, but Clarke said, "It's okay, he can come."
Bellamy dumped more tickets than was necessary into the man's hands and came up to the booth. "Hey," he said, sounding out of breath.
"Hey." Had he run from the parking lot or something?
"Kissing booth, huh?" he said.
"Yeah, I've done it for the past three years. It's kinda gross." She was going to have to brush her teeth at least five times when she got home, just to get her mouth tasting like her own again.
"Raises money for a good cause, though, right?" he noted.
"Yeah." Everything about this carnival—the tickets sold, the food purchased, the free-will donations received—it all went towards benefitting Kane's altruism efforts.
"Then it's not gross," Bellamy declared. "You got time for one more?"
If he was that one more, then she had all the time in the world. "I suppose," she said, playing it coy. Finally, somebody she actually wanted to kiss.
"Close your eyes," he said.
She did as he instructed, eyelids falling shut as she eagerly awaited the feel of his mouth on hers. But instead, he kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger there a little longer than most people would have.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in surprise.
"Just friends, right?" he reminded her.
Oh, yeah, she had set out that stipulation. "Right," she said, still amazed that one kiss on the cheek from him could feel better than all the other kisses she'd had that day.
Since she'd done her part at the kissing booth, that meant she had the rest of the afternoon free to actually walk around and enjoy the carnival. Bellamy didn't seem to be there with anyone, so he was more than happy to accompany her around the midway as they browsed the various things to do. Food, games, rides . . . there was a building with donated items up for silent auction, too, and a bingo hall, where playing one bingo card cost seventy-five cents.
"So your mom's boyfriend puts on this carnival?" Bellamy said as they strolled along together.
"Yep. He runs the Arkadia Youth Center. That's what this is all raising money for," she told him.
"Youth Center?" He cocked his head to the side. "We didn't used to have one of those, did we?"
"No, he started it up a couple years ago after he sold his business," she explained. "He's got a lot of money, so he basically pays for all this stuff himself. He rents the rides, the food stands, the games . . . everything."
"Huh. So he doesn't even make any money then?"
"No, but the center does. That's his priority. Plus, all the troubled kids he mentors . . . they come here and they help set it up, and some of them even help run it. It's good volunteer experience to have on their resume when they're applying for jobs and scholarships and stuff."
"I see," he said. "And you do the kissing booth to help out."
"I kinda got roped into it the first year. Now it's just tradition."
"Hmm." As they approached a corndog truck, he asked, "You hungry?"
She made a face and shook her head. She wasn't a corndog fan even under normal circumstances.
"Didn't think so," he said. "Well, what about some rides? Anything here you wanna go on?"
She looked around at the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Scrambler, the Zipper, and the Octopus, all of which caused motion sickness. "Is there anything here I can go on?" she wondered.
"Probably not," he said. "Ferris wheel?"
Again, she shook her head. "I don't wanna take my chances. Puke's bad, but puke falling from the sky would just be disgusting."
"You're right," he agreed. "Gross." He sighed, looked off over behind the Ferris wheel, and then said, "There might be one ride you can go on."
Was there really? It seemed like people only liked thrill rides at the carnival these days.
Ten minutes later, she found herself on the carousel, riding on a pretty white horses with flowers in its mane. Some obnoxiously cheerful song played as they circled around and around, and Bellamy stood next to her, holding onto the pole of the inner horse to keep his balance.
"I look ridiculous," she said, feeling like people walking by were giving her strange looks. This was very clearly a kids' ride, as evidenced by that fact that the only other adults on it were riding with their kids.
"No, you look cute," Bellamy assured her. "I'd ride one myself if I wouldn't break it."
Well, at least he'd hopped up on there with her so she didn't have to be embarrassed all by herself. "I did always used to love the carousel," she reminisced. "My dad would take me on it when I was little."
"Yeah," he said, "I used to ride it with Octavia."
Her heart warmed at the thought of big brother Bellamy riding with his little sister. "Now someday I'll ride it with my kid," she said, trying to smile at the thought. But it wasn't a smile she could keep in place for long. "Octavia's not gonna say anything about that, right?"
"No. I swore her to secrecy," he said. "My mom . . . kinda found out, too."
Clarke's eyes bulged.
"But she won't say anything."
"Good." Eventually, she'd tell the people who mattered, and then it didn't matter who else found out. But until then, she needed to keep it under wraps. "You wanna play some carnival games after this?" she asked him, eager to get her mind back on more light-hearted stuff and off of her pregnancy. "I know you have to feed your competitive spirit."
"Yeah," he said, "carnival games sound good."
"One of my least favorite professors ever is sitting on the dunk tank. But I can't throw hard enough to dunk him," she lamented. "Think you can help me out with that?"
He smiled confidently, and she had the feeling she was asking the right person.
After the carousel, they headed straight to the dunk tank, where Bellamy surrendered a few more of the roll of tickets he'd purchased to lob a ball at a small target. He hit it on his first shot, and it sent her jackass professor tumbling into the water.
"One shot," he said boastfully. "One shot."
"Impressive," she said, taking a moment to savor the sight of the same man who had dared to give her a B on the final exam in BIO 101 drenched from head to toe.
"Well, I was a quarterback." Bellamy held out his arm, and she linked hers with his, seeing no harm in walking arm-in-arm with him. It wasn't as intimate as holding hands. Linked arms were friendly. Linked hands were romantic.
"Do you remember the powderpuff football game?" she asked him as they headed back down the midway.
"Oh, yeah. Cheerleaders versus dance team." His eyes lit up, and he licked his lips. "That was hot."
"That was painful," she recalled. "Why did the cheerleaders make me the quarterback?"
"'cause they thought I could teach you a few things."
"Oh, you were teaching me things," she said. "Just not about football."
He grinned proudly.
It would have been nice to take another stroll down memory lane while they strolled past all the games and decided which one to play, but unfortunately, she spotted her mother not far away, and of course, her mother glanced their way just in time to see them. "Oh, shit," she swore.
"What?" He followed her gaze and noticed who she was noticing. "Oh, your mom." As she started coming towards them, he asked, "Think she'll be happy to see me?"
Clarke tried to smile reassuringly, but her mom's opinion of Bellamy hadn't always been a favorable one, so it was hard to say.
...
"Mom?" Clarke knocked lightly on the door to her parents' bedroom and pushed it open.
"Hi, honey," her mother greeted. She was sitting at her desk, pouring over some notes, probably about a patient. "How was school?"
"Fine." She'd actually skipped a class for the first time ever—nothing major, just study hall during eighth period—because Bellamy had invited her to make out in the janitor's closet. "I was wondering if we could talk for a minute," she said, trying to hold on the courage she'd spent all day building up. Her mind hadn't even been on classes; it'd been on this inevitable conversation.
"Sure." Her mother set her notes aside and stood up. "What's going on?"
Clarke wrung her hands together nervously, feeling like it was too late to back out now. She was doing this. "Well, I don't really know how to say this," she started in, "but . . . I'm sort of seeing someone."
"Really?" Her mom's eyebrows arched. "Who?"
Here we go, she thought, bracing herself for a less-than-enthused reaction. "Bellamy Blake."
"Bellamy?" her mother echoed. "He's the football player, isn't he?"
"Yeah." He was very talented.
"Isn't he a senior?"
"Mmm-hmm." Of course her mom would zero right in on that fact.
"Oh." She nodded, processing that, and it looked like she was trying very hard to remain calm. "And how long has this been going on?" she asked.
"A couple weeks," Clarke admitted. Two weeks, actually. Two weeks ago, she'd ambushed Bellamy in the boys locker room and begged him to take her virginity.
"Well, I just . . . I wish you'd told me sooner," her mom said.
"I know. I'm sorry." They'd been pretty obvious at school today, so she just wanted to be upfront with her parents before gossip started getting around.
"Well, invite him over for dinner sometime," her mom said, easing past her. "I'd like to get to know him."
Clarke stood in the doorway after she'd left the room, sighing. It would've been nice if she could just end the conversation there, but that wasn't everything she needed to reveal. "There's more, Mom," she said, heading downstairs.
Her mom was already in the kitchen, probably planned on doing a little stress-eating in light of this news. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Clarke took a deep breath and forced the words out of her mouth. "I'm having sex with him."
Her mom froze with one hand on the refrigerator handle, then spun around. "What?" she screeched. "No, you are not having sex until you're ready, and you're too young. You're not ready."
Clarke grimaced inwardly. "I already had sex with him," she confessed, feeling all sorts of awkward.
Her mother's face took on a look of pure horror, and she dropped her head and gasped, "Oh, dear God."
"It's okay." Clarke slowly made her way across the living room and into the kitchen, trying to think of something she could say to put her mother's mind at ease. "I remembered all our talks about safety and . . . we've been safe. He's worn a condom."
"Condoms are not one-hundred percent safe, Clarke," her mom snapped.
"I know. Which is why I felt like I needed to talk to you." She and Bellamy had done it three times with just condoms now, and she didn't want to tempt fate any further. "I need to be on birth control."
"You're sixteen," her mother cried, tears spilling from her eyes now. "Oh, god."
"Mom, you don't have to worry," Clarke reassured her. "I'm trying to be really responsible here."
Sniffling and wiping at her eyes, her mother said, "I just didn't think . . . I didn't think this would happen so soon. I'm not ready for you to stop being my little girl."
That sort of tugged at Clarke's heartstrings, so she promised her, "I'll always be your little girl, but . . . I'm not a kid anymore." It wasn't up to her mom to determine when she was ready to be having sex. That was a decision she had to make on her own, and she'd already made it.
"Was he the first?" her mother asked.
"Yes."
"So he's the only?"
"Yeah."
That seemed to make her mom feel a little better, because she was able to blink back some tears and nod. "Good," she said. "That's good. What about STDs, though? Has he ever had any?"
They hadn't really talked about that, so she didn't have a definite answer. "I don't think so."
"You don't think so?" her mom resounded shrilly.
"No, he hasn't." She'd been up close and personal with Bellamy . . . down there. Everything looked the way it did in diagrams. "Look . . . I know this is awkward," she acknowledged, ready to wrap things up, "so can I just . . . can I just get on birth control? Please?"
Her mom let out a shaky exhale, then shifted in doctor mode and said, "I suppose we could get you an implant. That's usually the most effective."
"No. No implants," she said, shutting down that idea immediately. "I looked those up. They look creepy."
"Well, then there's the shot or the pill."
"Just the pill. I don't wanna get shots."
Her mother, clearly very much still in the processing phase of this revelation, gulped and held back further tears. "If you take the pill, you have to remember to take it every single day," she said.
"I will." She brushed her teeth every single morning, so she'd just set her birth control right next to her toothbrush.
"Are you sure?" her mother asked.
"Yes." She was sure about all of this, about choosing the pill, about continuing to sleep with Bellamy. It felt good, and it felt right, and it felt like . . . like she was owning her decisions and owning her life. Definitely not a little kid anymore. "Don't worry, Mom," she said. "I won't get pregnant until I'm a lot older and settled down someday."
...
Clarke wrapped her arm a little tighter around Bellamy's as her mom got even closer. There was no way to walk off and pretend they hadn't seen her. In fact, they were both probably standing there like deer caught in the headlights.
"Oh, okay, here she comes," Bellamy said, sounding a bit nervous. "This is fun. I have no idea what I'm gonna say."
"Just be yourself," she suggested. Plastering on a big, fake smile, she greeted, "Hey, Mom."
"Hi," her mother said. "Bellamy. It's been a while."
"Hey, Abby," he said, but quickly he corrected himself with, "Mrs. Griffin."
"I'm not actually married to Mr. Griffin anymore," she informed him.
"That's what I heard," he said. "I'm . . . sorry about that."
Oh god, Clarke thought, feeling like it wasn't a good idea to be talking about her dad. Her mom barely even spoke to him these days, only when she had to.
"Where's Kane?" she asked her mom, feeling like she couldn't go wrong talking about somebody her mom actually did still like.
"Oh, you know, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to ensure this whole day goes off without a hitch," she said. Eying the way Clarke's arm was hooked with Bellamy's, she asked, "What have you two been up to?"
"Nothing much," Bellamy answered quickly.
"Yeah, I just got done with the kissing booth, and then we went and rode the carousel," Clarke replied.
"The carousel?" her mother echoed. "The kiddie ride?"
"It's the only ride I can go on," Bellamy said quickly. "I got this stomach thing. All the other rides make me nauseous."
She subtly smiled, thankful to him for covering for her. "Now we're just hanging out," she said, "playing some games."
Her mom nodded slowly, her face full of skepticism. "Well, I will let you two . . . hang out then," she said.
"Okay. See you, Mom." Clarke practically dragged Bellamy away from her, happy to have gotten that out of the way.
"Bye, Mrs. Griffin," Bellamy yelled back over his shoulder. "I mean Abby." He cringed, lowered his face towards Clarke's, and whispered, "What do I call her now?"
"Either one's fine." Her mom hadn't changed her last name since she was so well-known in town as Doctor Griffin, so she couldn't very well get mad if that was how Bellamy still addressed her.
Bellamy didn't want his tickets to go to waste, and since there were no more rides that they could go on without her potentially throwing up, he gave her half of what he had and told her they should try every carnival game. She sucked at most of them, but Bellamy was pretty good. Even though most of them were nearly impossible to win, he excelled at the ring toss and managed to hook the necks of three empty bottles with the small hoops.
"Three in a row!" the game operator exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.
"Oh my god, you won, Bellamy!" she squealed.
"Yeah, what do I win?"
"Any one of our fabulous prizes." The game operator motioned to a vast array of stuffed animals hung from the ceiling and stacked in the back. Some of them looked creepy, and they all appeared to be cheaply-made. But a few were cute.
"What do you want?" Bellamy asked her.
She scanned her options and decided on the one that looked the most adorable. "Purple bunny."
"The purple bunny, please," he requested.
"Excellent choice." The game operator had to use a long pole to retrieve it from the ceiling, then handed it over to Bellamy and said, "Congratulations!"
"Yeah, thanks," he muttered, immediately giving the toy to her. "Here," he said. "The first of many gifts for the baby."
She smiled appreciatively, giving the bunny a little hug. It was surprisingly soft and squishy, and she kind of loved it.
An afternoon at the carnival with Bellamy soon turned into an evening. She stayed later than she'd intended because she was having a good time with him. They went inside when it got too hot and played a few rounds of Bingo—he won that, too, but his only prize was a five dollar gift certificate to an in-town flower shop—and afterward, they shared some popcorn and sat at a picnic table while two folk singers entertained the crowd. Clarke made sure to drop a couple of bucks in their guitar case, because they were good, and she appreciated good music.
Bellamy followed her home, just to make sure she got there alright, and she thanked him, but she told him not to get out of his car. And they both knew why. If he came inside, then he might end up . . . well, cumming inside, and they couldn't let that happen again. So he waited until she unlocked the door and waved goodnight to him before he whipped a U-turn and headed home himself.
She shut the front door with a smile on her face. Today had actually ended up being a really fun day.
With the purple bunny in hand, she headed upstairs and into the empty bedroom. Flipping on the light, she was greeted by boxes, each of them full of things she had yet to unpack. Nothing major, just knick-knacks and Christmas decorations, which she could always store in the downstairs closet. When the time came, she'd have to buy some very different decorations for this room. Like a mobile. Babies liked mobiles.
She set the purple bunny down on top of the Christmas decorations box, figuring that was a good enough place for him right now. Surely she'd end up buying plenty more toys and stuffed animals, but she'd always remember that this gift from Bellamy was the first one the baby would ever receive.
