Chapter 63

Bellamy stayed in bed longer than was necessary Saturday morning. He kept trying to fall back asleep, but it never really worked, and after about forty-five minutes of just lying there, thinking about things, he finally decided to drag his ass out to the bathroom so he could start the day.

When he emerged from the bathroom and headed into the kitchen, he found that his sister was there, helping herself to some breakfast in the form of soggy cereal. "Ew, put a shirt on," she told him.

"You're the only girl who's ever said that to me," he responded as he opened up the refrigerator.

"Cocky much?" she teased.

"It is what it is." He grabbed a half-empty carton of orange juice and drank straight from it. "What're you doing here?" he asked her.

"Lincoln's brother's visiting today," she said, leaning back against the counter as she continued to scoop cereal out of her bowl. "They need their bro-time. So I figured I'd come visit my big bro."

"So you're here to annoy me," he concluded.

She huffed in mock outrage. "Since when have I annoyed you?"

"Since birth."

"Ha, ha, very funny," she deadpanned. She brought her cereal bowl up to her lips and slurped whatever was left of it, then set it down in the sink. "How's Mom's ankle?" she asked.

"Better," he said, putting the orange juice back in the refrigerator. (Nobody drank it but him, so it was fine.) "She probably shouldn't have gone to work, but . . . you know Mom."

"Yeah." Octavia followed him into the living room and sat down with him on the couch. "Well, just us then. What do you wanna do today?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, and he could tell by her tone that she was hinting at something, something that became a lot more obvious when she added, "Because, you know, there's this graduation happening today that we might wanna go to."

Yeah, he hadn't forgotten about that. In fact, it'd been one of the things on his mind that had prevented him from falling back asleep. But no matter how much he thought about it, he kept coming to the same conclusion: "I don't think that's such a good idea."

She pouted. "Why not?"

"Because . . . it's supposed to be a good day for Clarke," he attempted to explain.

"She'll feel pretty good if you show up there."

Maybe. But maybe not. He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to risk it. "We haven't had the chance to smooth things over yet," he said. "And that's not something she should have to deal with today."

"So you're just gonna skip out on your own girlfriend's college graduation?" she said. "After she sat there and watched you graduate high school. You should be there for her."

A couple weeks ago, he'd planned to be. But things were different now, and he didn't want to make things awkward or uncomfortable for her. And he didn't exactly want that for himself, either. "Her parents are gonna be there," he said. His last conversations with both Abby and Jake hadn't exactly been pleasant. "I can't . . ." He rubbed his forehead, feeling the dull ache of anxiety right behind his skull. "I can't deal with all that right now. I'll just fuck things up if I . . ." He trailed off, frustrated with himself for being such a . . . a liability on a day like this. That was really what he felt like. He felt like, if he showed up, he'd just hinder her ability to enjoy the day and celebrate a pretty big accomplishment.

"But Bellamy," Octavia said, "what about next weekend when . . ."

"O, I just . . . I gotta get through this weekend first," he said. One day at a time. But he knew damn well what next weekend was supposed to be. He'd been looking forward to it for months.

...

Clarke rode with her mother and Kane to the auditorium where graduation was being held. It was right there on campus, which meant parking was a nightmare. Luckily, Kane dropped her and her mom off, so she didn't have to waddle there from blocks away. He found a parking spot and rejoined them at the front entrance, and they all walked in together. Most of the people mulling about weren't actually graduates, but friends and family of. Everyone was dressed up, and expressions ranged from a mix of happy-to-be-there to dreading-a-boring-commencement.

"Is your father here yet?" her mom asked.

"Yeah," Clarke said. She scanned the rows of seats, looking for the section where he'd texted her he was at. She spotted him and Alyssa and pointed them out for her mom. "He's over there."

"Oh, with his girlfriend," her mom said. "She looks young enough to be graduating today."

Clarke felt compelled to . . . defend Alyssa a bit, not that her mom was attacking. She was just being salty. "She's actually really nice," Clarke informed her. Talking with her the other day had been . . . unexpectedly necessary.

"It was good of them to come," Kane said. "Who else is here?"

"Um, Raven's around here somewhere," Clarke said, scanning the crowd. "With Murphy, I think. You guys could probably go sit next to them."

"Where are you supposed to go?" her mom asked her.

"I don't know. I'll figure it out." She saw a few students in maroon caps and gowns scurrying in the opposite direction of the auditorium seats, so she'd probably end up where she needed to if she just followed them.

"Do you want me to go with you?" her mom asked.

"I'm good. Just settle in," she said, handing off her purse to her mom so she didn't have to bother to keep track of that. "It's not gonna be a quick ceremony."

"I'll let you know what section we end up in," her mom said as Kane practically dragged her away. "And look for us when you walk up to get your diploma. I wanna get a good picture."

Clarke nodded mutely and waited until those two were on their way before she headed off in the same direction she'd seen the other graduates going. It didn't take her long to bump into a familiar face.

"Hey!" Harper exclaimed as they rounded a corner and nearly collided.

"Hey. Do you know where we're supposed to be?" Clarke asked her.

"Yeah, it's just around the corner. I was looking for you."

"I'm slow-moving," Clarke groaned. "And really uncomfortable." She saw an open bench, so she seized her opportunity and sat down. "I don't know how I'm gonna sit there for an hour and a half."

"Oh, god," Harper said, taking a seat beside her. "You think that's really how long it'll take?"

"That's how long Raven's graduation took last year, remember?"

"God, just give us our diplomas and let us go already," Harper groaned.

"Seriously." Clarke winced a bit as her stomach cramped up. Happened all the time these days.

"You okay?" Harper asked.

"Yeah." Sitting through a college graduation was torturous enough under normal circumstances, but sitting through one when she was this far along in her pregnancy just sucked even more. "Do we get to sit next to each other?" she wondered.

"No. We have to sit by department, and then alphabetically within the department," Harper informed her. "I'm gonna be way on the other side of the aisle."

"Great." That meant she wasn't even going to be able to chat with one of her best friends to pass the time. She'd actually have to pretend to listen to whatever speakers were up at the podium. "So is Monty here?" she asked.

"Yep," Harper chirped. "Is Bellamy?" Clarke must have looked like a kicked puppy when Harper asked that, because Harper sort of grimaced and then apologized. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's okay," Clarke assured her. It was a valid question, totally made sense for her to wonder about it. "I didn't expect him to be here," she said. "I hurt him really bad, Harper. I don't know if he'll ever be able to forgive me."

"Oh, he will," Harper insisted. "He loves you."

"Yeah, but he hates what I did to him. I hate what I did to him." Her eyes started to feel watery, and she had to blink back the tears. But a few spilled over despite her best efforts to keep them in. "God, leave it to me to make even graduation day sad," she said, wiping them away. She tried her best to make light of it by adding, "I won't cry so much once I have the baby, I promise. It's just . . . stupid hormones."

"Or it's just that you're going through a lot," Harper said. "This would be hard even on someone who wasn't pregnant."

It would be, but . . . Clarke still didn't feel like she deserved the sympathy. "It's my own fault," she said. Harper opened her mouth as if she wanted to protest that, but Clarke desperately did not want to ruin her friend's graduation day. So with a great deal of effort, she got up and said, "Come on, let's go get where we need to be." They had a commencement to take part in, one that was set to start in about twenty minutes. For a few hours, she could shelve her sadness and just go through the motions.

...

Bellamy tried his best to just . . . ignore Octavia. It sounded bad, but even though he loved his little sister, he wasn't in the mood to have her hanging around all day, finding unique and creative ways to mention graduation in every single conversation they had. It didn't matter what they were talking about, she found a way to bring it back to that. Finally, he got fed up with it and sought an escape from her in the shower. He stayed in there longer than was necessary, mostly because when he got out of there, he wanted to be able to use the excuse of, "Oh, graduation's already started. Too late to show up now."

The water had started to cool off a while ago, to the point where it was beginning to get uncomfortable. But still, he stayed in there, all those thoughts that had kept him awake that morning churning around even more in his mind now that he'd been awake for a while. All thoughts of Clarke, of course. Memories. Good ones. Like that moment that'd started it all: her walking into the locker room, surprising him with her brazen request to sleep with her. Looking back, it felt pretty surreal that it'd led to so much.

Once the floodgates of memories opened, they came at him like a barrage, not so much in chronological order, but more all over the place. He remembered seeing her walk into that bar a couple months ago, shorter hair than he'd been used to seeing on her, but the same smile. He remembered dancing with her at the prom—his princess—and taking pictures with her not all that long ago out on the beach. Little things, too, like walking down the school hallways with her, holding her hand, and reaching over to touch her in the middle of the night. And bigger things, of course, like being there with her to see the first image of Avery on an ultrasound. And making love to her in a hotel room on their last night of an abbreviated summer. Of course.

He slammed his fist against the wall of the shower, wishing he had a better handle on things in his life right now. But he never had, had he? Once football had fallen by the wayside, he'd never really had a purpose, going from job to job, location to location, just wandering aimlessly through his own life. Until . . . until he'd come back to Arkadia and started up things with the love of his life again. Until he'd decided to become a father to a child that wasn't even his. Then he'd had some purpose. Now, he felt like he was back to having nothing.

It was possible that Octavia was right, that going to that graduation today would have been a good idea. As much as he'd talked himself out of it, he knew he might be making a mistake. But . . . graduation had already started. Too late to show up now.

...

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. It was painstaking. Mostly because Clarke was in actual pain. It was an especially achy day she was experiencing, so standing in line waiting for her department's turn to walk out in the processional felt like it took forever. Not to mention the fact that she couldn't walk very fast, so she felt like she was holding up everyone behind her.

By the time she got to her seat, she was actually out of breath, so she sat down and didn't plan on getting back up until she had to. But one of the first things the dean of students did was invite all the distinguished graduates, those who had been given academic medals to wear around their necks, to stand and be recognized. Clarke had one for maintaining a 4.0 GPA all throughout college, but as everyone else around her stood, she failed at doing the same. It just took too much effort in that moment to push her very round self up to her feet, so even though a couple people around her offered to help, she just waved it off and decided it was fine to stay seated. No need to draw attention to herself and be that pregnant girl who couldn't stand on her own.

Clarke hadn't bothered to grab a program, so she had no idea how many speakers were set to come up to the microphone, but she was anticipating a lot. She didn't know any of them, nor did she really care about what they were saying. The opening speaker talked about the history of Arkadia State College, and the next one shared her own story about earning her undergraduate degree there before moving on to, of all things, med school. Clarke made sure to avoid all eye contact with her mom, who had snagged the perfect seat in the auditorium next to Raven and Murphy and would surely get all the pictures she wanted.

There were a couple of songs, which almost put Clarke to sleep—in addition to being achy, she was also tired as fuck—and then yet another speaker. This one seemed to be leading to the distribution of the diplomas, though, so at least they were moving along. She was the dean of something or another, and Clarke was all set to tune her out, until the words just started . . . resonating.

"Commencement is a day of becoming," the speaker proclaimed. "You become someone. Now of course, all of you already are someone. But this is the day when your identity expands, and you become someone new."

As if in response to that, Clarke felt a ring of pain circle around her stomach and back.

"No longer will you be an undergraduate, but a graduate," the speaker continued. "I look out at all of you today and see teachers, scientists, and technicians. Artists, musicians, researchers, and developers . . . the list goes on and on."

Mothers? Clarke wondered. Surely she wasn't the only person in attendance today who was one of those. There were hundreds upon hundreds of students graduating. She couldn't possibly have been the only one whose life had . . . sort of veered off course.

"Today is your day to evolve, to grow, to become," the speaker said. "To become who you were always meant to be."

Clarke touched her stomach, letting that sink in. She wasn't meant to be a doctor, and only time would tell if she was meant to be an artist or a singer. But none of that was as important as what else she was becoming. None of it ever had been.

...

Sitting on the side of the bathtub, Clarke tried to stop fidgeting with her fingers and tapping her legs nervously. But if she stopped doing those things, then she just ended up staring at that flimsy little strip on the counter. The one she'd turned upside down after she'd gone ahead and peed on it.

No one was home. Just her and this potentially life-altering test. For the past couple of days, every time she'd felt the urge to go to the bathroom, she'd hoped and prayed to pull down her underwear and see some blood in there. Or to feel some period cramps. Anything to put her mind at ease. But none of that had ever happened, and things were to the point where she couldn't ignore them anymore. She had to know, for the sake of her own sanity, what was going on in her own body.

How long had it been? Clarke checked her phone and saw that the five required minutes had passed. But she was going to wait six, just to make sure the test result had enough time to develop. Of course, as she was looking at the time on her phone, it changed to 3:27, which . . . was six minutes. And she didn't feel ready to look yet, so she decided to wait for seven.

It's gonna be okay, she told herself. If the test was positive, she could handle it. And if it was negative, then no one even had to know this had ever even been a concern. One thing was for sure, though: No matter how this turned out, she needed to be more careful in the future. The pill was just not the best option these days. There were alternatives like the implant and the shot, and those were supposedly more reliable.

When that seventh minute passed, she forced herself to get up and walk over to the sink. She'd waited long enough. Except it still took more courage to turn that test around then she actually felt like she possessed, so she went ahead and paced around a bit, trying to steady her breathing and calm herself down. It really was all gonna be okay. She just had to keep thinking that.

Her stomach gurgled, almost as if to signal her body's impatience, so she stopped pacing, stood at the sink, and reached down with both hands to grab the test. She clamped it tightly, counting down in her head starting from ten.

Ten, nine, eight . . .

Bellamy was a good guy. He wouldn't leave her to do this alone.

Seven, six, five . . .

But that was part of the problem, wasn't it? He'd be throwing away his entire future just for her.

Four, three . . .

It was gonna be such a relief if she turned that test over and saw a negative result. Then she'd never even have to tell him about any of this. Or her parents. She could just forget it ever happened.

Two . . .

She slowed down her counting right at the end.

One . . .

She squeezed her eyes shut as she flipped over the test and clasped the palm of one hand down over the results window. Gradually, she moved it aside, and then, holding her breath, she opened her eyes and peered down.

Two pink lines. That meant . . .

Oh, god.

She was pregnant.

Dumbfounded, she just stood there for what felt like a long time, staring at that test, double-checking the little key next to the results window to make sure she was reading it right. It said right there that two lines meant positive and one meant negative. And there were obviously two lines. But still . . . one was a little darker than the other, so did that mean something?

Frantically, she set the test down and pulled the instructions back out of the box. There had to be something in there about a false positive, right? A flawed result? She skimmed the microscopic text, devastated to find something about how the shade of the lines was irrelevant. One line could be paler than the other and still be the same type of line. So there were still two of them. Which meant . . .

She crumpled up the instructions and shoved them back in the box, feeling irrationally angry at that test in that moment. She wished she could break it in half or flush it down the toilet or something. Because it was such an impersonal thing, didn't take into account who was taking the test at all. It just showed these two pink lines, and some women were probably really excited to see them, but Clarke felt . . . she felt terrified.

Despite her best efforts to tell herself that everything was going to be okay, suddenly everything felt like it was not going to be okay. She felt like the world had either dropped out from underneath her or was closing in on her, or maybe both at once. She turned around, her back completely to the test, and wrapped her arms around her stomach, struggling not to cry. Her mouth quivered, though, and her eyes started to sting, and eventually, she couldn't keep her feelings in. She burst out into tears, the kind that made her whole body shake and crumple forward.

She'd tried to tell herself that she could handle this, but had she ever really believed it? Because she didn't believe it now. It didn't matter that she had two parents who could help her out, parents who had stable jobs and a nice house for her to live in. It didn't matter that she was a good student and could probably graduate a year early if she put her mind to it. It didn't even matter that the baby's father was a really good guy, because this was too much right now. She couldn't handle it. And she felt like the biggest idiot in the world for letting it happen.

Fears flooded her mind so fast that she couldn't distinguish one from the other. Fears about how her parents would react, about what this would do to Bellamy's college plans and his future in football, and even stupid stuff like what people in school would say. And what was she supposed to do? They didn't make cheerleading skirts for pregnant girls, and teen mothers usually were too busy caring for their child to find any time to study for the ACT test. There were so many statistics she'd seen online these past few days about how this kind of thing just screwed up people's lives.

Somehow, she managed to get her sobbing under control, but only because she felt like she had to get rid of the evidence of all of this before her mom and dad came home from work. She couldn't have one of them finding this test or even the box or the instructions. She couldn't have them find out that way. So she stuffed the test into the box, closed it up, and contemplated where would be the best option to throw it away. Maybe she could shove it down into the bottom of their kitchen trash can and then take the trash outside. They'd never find it then.

She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed the box both at the same time, wishing she could muster up at least a little bit of joy. Because even though this wasn't what she'd wanted or ever pictured for herself, it was still . . . her baby. And she felt awful for not being the least bit happy about it. How could she be, though? She wasn't exactly a kid herself anymore, but she wasn't an adult yet, either. She was sixteen years old. She wasn't ready to be a mom.

...

As the speaker kept going on and on about this idea of becoming, Clarke shifted around in her seat, struggling to ease the pain radiating around her midsection. The pain in her back just wasn't letting up, and the cramps in her stomach actually felt like they were extending down into her thighs. Which was weird.

Thankfully, there were no more speakers after that. The dean of students once again returned to the microphone, but this time it was to start handing out the diplomas. They started over on the other side of the aisle with the College of Education. Then came Harper's section with the College of Fine Arts. Harper was so excited that she nearly tripped on her way down the steps, but in typical dancer fashion, she recovered gracefully and waved at the crowd as they laughed at her. Clarke couldn't even fully appreciate the comedy of the moment, though, because . . . everything just hurt.

She desperately wanted them to pick up the pace and start moving things along, because the longer she sat there, the more she started to fear that these were not just the Braxton Hicks contractions she'd become accustomed to. Those usually didn't last as long, and this felt more . . . intense.

Finally, at long last, it was time for the students of the College of Arts and Sciences to get their diplomas. It was the largest group, so there was still some waiting, but Clarke was at least up towards the beginning of the alphabet. There were only two rows in front of her. But in a way, that was concerning, because she felt like she knew what was happening, or at least about to happen, and she didn't want it to happen right when she stood up. She felt like, as long as she just kept sitting and didn't move, she could keep everything . . . inside. But sitting was eventually no longer a possibility. Once it was her row's turn to stand up and shuffle towards the stage, she had no choice. She clenched everything down there as tightly as she could and groaned as she got to her feet. She kept one hand wrapped around her stomach and slowly made her way forward, taking, for lack of a better term, baby steps.

Not yet, she thought to herself, hoping Avery could somehow pick up on telepathy. Just a little bit longer. She was definitely on her way to becoming someone, but she had to become a graduate first. The only college left after this one was the College of Architecture, and there were only about a dozen students in that one. Once they were done, then they could all do the thing where they switched their tassels from one side to the other, and then maybe she and her family could grab a few quick pictures outside before she clued them in as to what was happening.

Or maybe not, because when she was only a few feet away form that stage, she felt a faint trickle between her legs.

No, no, no, she protested internally. Just wait. She was probably seconds away from walking up on that stage now. All she needed was a few more seconds.

The stupid guy in front of her of course had to take eighty-four years to do some stupid poses while his family whooped and hollered at the top of their lungs for him. He did this dumb sideways peace sign with one hand and then a fist pump with the other, and for some reason, people laughed at him, so that just encouraged him to ham it up even more. Clarke wanted to shout at him to hurry the hell up so they could call her name, because she didn't have any fucking time to spare.

At last, he stepped down off the stage, and it was finally her turn. "Clarke Griffin," the dean announced, "graduating with high honors."

Nervously, she smiled and practically tip-toed forward as her family and friends cheered for her. It was mostly Raven that she heard, but there wasn't a doubt in her mind that her parents were both snapping pictures. When they took a closer look at them, they'd probably notice her cringing as she received her diploma.

"Congratulations," the dean said, shaking her hand.

She couldn't even say thanks in response, but she was pretty sure that if she tried to speak, it'd just come out in the form of a whimper. So walking with her legs close together, she hobbled to the edge of the stage, but before she could carefully step down any of the stairs . . . she felt it. A gush. A gush of water. She'd read all about how it was a gush for some women and never more than just a trickle for others, but . . . this was enough to make her gasp.

She froze, dropping her diploma, and grabbed her stomach with both hands. Her mouth dropped open, and there she stood in front of her entire graduating class, officially entering labor.

It took people a moment to figure out what was going on, but once they did, their mouths dropped open, too, and some of them started whispering to each other.

"Oh," the dean said. "We might need, um . . ."

Oh, god, is there water everywhere? Clarke thought. She wasn't about to bother looking down, not that it would do her any good anyway, because her stomach was too rounded to see anything. But she was wearing a dress underneath her graduation robe, and she had a feeling there was . . . fluid on the stage. Oh, god.

"Let's help her sit down," the dean said, "or . . ."

A few students came up to her, holding out their hands to help her down off the stage, and though she took them, she didn't intend to sit back down. No, her college graduation was officially over.

Glancing up to where her mom had been sitting, she saw that her parents, her future step-parents, and her friends were already out of their seats and headed towards the nearest exit. Murphy was walking backward and had his phone out, so that was lovely. He'd probably recorded the whole thing. Great footage for his blog.

When she got out of that auditorium and was heading out to the parking lot with her mom's arms around her shoulders, Clarke couldn't help but complain, "That's so embarrassing."

"No, it's fine," Raven assured her. "You can't control when you go into labor."

"Yeah, I was bored as fuck," Murphy said. "This livened things up a bit."

"Now all my life, I'm gonna be known as that girl who went into labor at graduation," Clarke grumbled.

"I think that's kind of cool," Harper chirped, and Clarke had to do a bit of a double-take, because she'd been so wrapped up in herself that she hadn't even noticed that both Harper and Monty had left early, too.

"You could've stayed," Clarke told her. She'd probably wanted to do the tassel thing, too.

"Are you crazy?' Harper said. "This is way more exciting."

Clarke grimaced. Yeah, that was one word for it. Terrifying was another, but . . .

"Don't worry, Clarke," her mother said as they neared her car, "we're gonna get you to the hospital, and everything's gonna be smooth sailing."

Clarke let out a shaky breath, trying to remember everything she'd learned in Lamaze class about how to make this as easy an experience as possible. "I have a—a bag packed at home," she stammered. "I need that."

"I can swing by and get that for you," her father offered.

"Thanks." Bellamy had put everything in there that she'd needed, and . . . he did all that for her. "I'm not gonna have the baby in the car, right?" she asked her mom, suddenly fearing that she might have one of those super quick labors. It would be just her luck if they had to pull over on the side of the road and deliver the baby right there.

"No. You've got plenty of time," her mom assured her. "Just stay calm. Remember, you're going through a normal, natural process. And I'm right here with you."

"Right," Clarke said, trying to take a steadying breath again. Even if they did end up on the side of the road, her mom was a freaking doctor. There was no better person to be going through all of this with.

Except for maybe . . .

"Yeah, we're all right here," Raven reminded her, opening up the car door for her.

"Okay." Clarke let her mom help her into the back seat, and the weirdest thought about feeling bad for possibly leaking water and other fluids onto the nice leather seats crossed her mind.

"We'll meet you at the hospital," her father said as he and Alyssa scampered towards their car. Harper and Monty did the same. Her mom took off after her dad, though, saying something Clarke couldn't understand.

"Wait a minute, Clarke," Raven said, grabbing hold of the door before Clarke could try to close it. "Should I call Bellamy?"

For a second, everything just stopped. The discomfort, the weird thoughts, the worries, and even Clarke's ability to breathe. "I don't . . . I don't know," she answered unsurely. What if he wasn't even home? What if he'd gone out of town for the weekend or something?

"Well, do you want me to call him?" Raven re-phrased.

Of course she wanted her to. Bellamy was her partner in this. He was the one who'd gone to those Lamaze classes with her, and for the vast majority of this pregnancy, he was the one she'd pictured by her side when Avery came into the world. If things had gone differently, he would have been at that graduation today. And knowing him, he probably would have vaulted down onto the stage or something dramatic like that, swooped her up in his arms, and carried her right out of there.

"He's not . . ." She shook her head tearfully. "He hasn't forgiven me." How was she supposed to ask him to be there after everything she'd put him through? She didn't have the right to be so selfish. "No, don't . . . don't call him," she said. "He doesn't have to come. Not after what I did to him."

Raven looked . . . like she didn't entirely love that answer. "Are you sure?" she pressed.

Clarke looked up at her sadly, shook her head, and reached out to grab the door handle and pull it shut. No, of course she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything, except for the fact that this baby was officially on its way.