~10~

~Chapter Ten~

Expectations were like porcelain. The harder you held them, the more likely they were to crack.

~Brandon Sanderson~

~~X~~

Make up your mind
Decide to walk with me
Around the lake tonight
Around the lake tonight

~Toadies, Possum Kingdom~

I am slightly surprised to find my parent's cars parked in the driveway. I glance at the clock on my phone. It's only six. Mom and Dad don't usually return home from work until seven-thirty, nine on Fridays. Lately at least. I think back to simpler times, times when at least one parent was home with me. As I got older, they coordinated their schedules to match. I actually admire their strong work ethics and ability to still have a solid relationship. The way they raised me inspired me to live a successful life. My quiet independence allows me the freedom to do pretty much whatever I want… to a certain extent. I haven't given them any reason to distrust me—as far as they are aware—and they might not even acknowledge my presence when I enter the house.

I look up at the darkening sky. The sun has just started to go down and the temperature has definitely dropped a bit. Despite the coolness, my palms and forehead are clammy and slick with sweat. I had been hoping that I could just lock myself in my room while they were still out. Even the thought of looking in their direction is driving me crazy.

Alright. Your mission is to make it to your room before your parental units spot you.

I make it halfway upstairs before I hear my father call my name.

"Hey, sweetie, can you come here for a minute?"

I freeze. "Coming!"

I go down the steps backwards, a feeble and useless delaying tactic. I throw a look over my shoulder and see Dad standing at the bottom of the staircase, a small rectangular paper in his hands.

He extends his arm toward me. I can now see that it's not a note or an envelope—it's a check with my name on it.

My hand trembles as I reach out to accept it. "What's this for?"

"Your application fees… for Harvard, Yale, and Brown." Dad gives me a quizzical look. "I wrote a note telling you I'd cover the cost of them three days ago. I left it by the landline."

I hadn't spent much time in the family room in the past week. So much has gone on that reading Mom and Dad's daily memos seemed trivial. It makes me sad to think I actually appreciated the last one I read.

"Oh, right," I dramatically thump myself on the forehead. "It must have slipped my mind. I spent the whole weekend helping…" I try to recall who I told them I was with. "Elena with her math homework."

That expression hasn't left Dad's face. "Don't worry about it… just make sure you have your essays taken care of."

"I do." This is true. I've had those essays written and saved on my laptop since junior year. "I just have to ask a few teachers for letters of recommendation."

He beams. "That's my girl! I am so proud of you!"

Well fuck.

I tell him good night and run into my room. Why is my life such a shit storm? I press my ear to the door and listen intently to the muffled conversation my parents are having.

"I know Bonnie Bear is home, but she'll probably be in her room the rest of the night." The underlying tone in my mother's voice grosses me out.

"Well, I'll meet you upstairs then!" Dad says. Even though the door is muddling their words a bit, I can still pick up on the way he returns her excitement.

I guess I should just be happy that they will be too busy to come check on me. I wait for the normal feeling of mild resentment to come, but I just feel relief. There are sometimes I wish my family would behave like a typical family unit. You know, the whole eat a home cooked meal, talk about our respective days thing. I don't know if those desires will ever come back to me.

I've already decided that I cannot tell my parents about this. Not after my dad's proclamation of pride. That basically rules out going to the traditional gynecologist's office. I don't need anything suspicious showing up on the insurance bill. That pretty much narrows my options down completely. Planned Parenthood it is.

I type the web address into my computer. The website is fairly easy to navigate. My whole arm is shaking as I move to click on the tab labeled Abortion Care. I force myself to read the information they have provided.

Seems simple enough. The whole thing should be a fairly smooth process. Well, physically at least. Emotionally is a totally different story.

The nearest clinic is about an hour away. I scribble the address and phone number down. I'm going to have to leave school early in order to get there at a reasonable time. I plan on calling as soon as I arrive at school tomorrow. I'll make an appointment and then I'll let Damon know right before anatomy class. Hopefully, he will be able to cover for me at the end of the day. I'll ask him if he will let the cheerleading coach know I will be missing yet another practice.

I tell myself that this is my only option. If I don't want this news to spread any further than I need to eliminate any evidence it existed in the first place. Damon probably thinks that this is the best course of action already—he will need no convincing.

I feel like a robot as I shut the computer down. I take my jeans off and throw them in the corner of my room, I go to pull the t-shirt off, but hesitate. I feel the overwhelming need to keep it on. I have no clue as to why.

It's a cool shirt. That's all.

I feel a stab of sorrow when I think of Enzo, who had left me three voicemail messages since that my hasty exit last night. I should be wearing an article of my boyfriend's clothing. That's what I want. I don't want to be so secretive. I'm not being fair or rational. I don't want Damon to be this big a part of my life. Except I know I'm not telling myself the truth. About anything. Not that the truth is so cut-and-dry. I climb into bed and squeeze my eyes shut. I'll have a clearer head in the morning. It will all be over with the next time I lie in my bed. This nightmare will finally end.

I tell myself the tears streaming down my face are because of happiness, not regret. I think it over and over again to no avail. Maybe I'll believe it tomorrow… I feel my face relax and I take a deep breath. I hadn't realized how exhausted I was. I can't fight the fatigue anymore. I'm just glad I can finally rest.

The clock on my dashboard reads 6:50.

Classes begin in ten minutes.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I mutter under my breath. The hold music on the other end of the phone is beginning to grate on my nerves.

"Bonnie?"

"Yes?"

"You are all set for your appointment this afternoon!" The receptionist sounds entirely too cheerful for my liking.

"Thank you."

"We will see you at two o clock!"

I hang up the phone.

I still don't feel any better about my choice. It feels as if it's not really my choice at all. I know it's the logical thing to do. Elena, despite her jerkiness about it, made several good points. I can't be valedictorian if I'm nine months pregnant at graduation. Going to an Ivy League college would probably be out of the question. Can't pay for tuition if I'm buying diapers every other day.

And then I see something very…odd. Damon is standing in the courtyard across from where I parked my car—talking rather animatedly at Tyler Lockwood. I can't see Damon's face, but I have a full view of Tyler's. He looks… scared? That doesn't make any sense. Damon and Tyler are usually cool with each other. Really, I can't think of a time they weren't. Enzo, Damon, and Tyler are three peas in a pod.

I check the clock one more time. 6:55. At least I'll be right on time for class. I sling my bag over my shoulder and pull at the hem of my sweater. I thought if I went back to my normal routine and attire things would start to go back to the way they were. Wrong. I know I can't possibly be showing so soon, but I feel like my classmates will be able to tell.

I make it to the classroom door just as the bell rings. Damon is standing right in front of it, though. Arms folded across his chest. His body is blocking the entryway and the curtain hanging over the window is pulled down.

"How'd you get here so fast?" I ask, eyes narrowed.

Damon actually looks a little startled. "Huh?"

"I saw you talking to Tyler Lockwood a few minutes ago."

"And I'm the stalker?" he asks mockingly.

I roll my eyes.

"I was just… striking a deal with him. He doesn't tell anyone about our situation, and I let him keep his organs inside of his body."

I instinctively cover my stomach with my book bag. "How does he know about it?"

"Wow, Bon Bon. I thought you were way smarter than that. How does anyone know?"

"Elena?"

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner, folks!"

I shake my head in denial. "She doesn't really talk to him… only when he's with Caroline."

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. And then there's the betrayal. I had been hurt by her words yesterday… but this is awful. I really can't trust my best friend to keep her mouth shut.

"Does Enzo know?"

"No. If he did, he wouldn't have talked to me about why you were so upset yesterday."

"He was worried about me?"

"Yeah," he rolls his eyes. "But that should be the least of our problems right now." I'm taken aback by how easily the word "our" rolled off his tongue.

"Don't worry. It won't be a problem after tonight."

Damon's facial expression is unreadable. "You're getting an abortion?"

"Yup. At 2:00."

"You didn't tell me before you made an appointment?"

I shrug. "I assumed we were on the same page about it."

He nods. "I see."

"So, if you could—"

"Drive you there? No problem, Bennett. I'd be honored." His eyelashes flutter and the corners of his mouth rise with fake humility.

"…Tell the cheerleading coach I won't be at practice tonight."

"Can't. I have a prior engagement at two o'clock." He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm driving my friend to a doctor's appointment. Ask literally anyone else." He says the last part with a smirk.

"I drove my car here this morning. You are not driving my car. It was my cousin Emily's and I paid her 4,000 for it. It took me all summer sophomore year to earn the money for it! I can't just get another one if you fuck it up."

He rolls his eyes so hard they almost get stuck in the back of his head. "You are such a control freak."

"Fine." I relent, holding my hands up in surrender. "Come if you want. Just don't make me late."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Bon Bon." He pats me on the top of my head.

"Stop calling me that!" I snap. "And meet me in the parking lot at 12:55."

"I'll be there."

"Lovely. Now, if you will kindly get out of my way, that'd be great. I have notes to take and a dismissal request to forge."

"After you," he opens the door and gestures for me to go ahead of him.

I don't reply.

Damon is outside before I am.

As it turns out, I'm the one who is running behind. It was harder to copy my mom's handwriting than I thought. The personalized stationery I stole from her desk this morning had been a nice touch. The biggest obstacle had been lying to the secretary.

"Okay, Ms. Bennett. You are free to go at 12:50." She punctuates her sentence with a flourish of her pen.

"That's all?" I take the dismissal pass from her wrinkly hand.

"Well, I have to make a note of it in the computer system. Why are you leaving again?"

"Doctor's appointment."

"Just bring a note with you tomorrow. It won't remain on your record then."

"Perfect!" I say, running for the door.

~~X~~

"You're late!" Damon trills, checking an imaginary wristwatch.

I scoff. "By one minute—if that!"

"Still late!" Damon sticks his tongue out and walks over to the passenger's side

~~X~~

Damon spends the majority of our travels critiquing my driving skills and messing with the radio.

"You could have gone, you know."

"I didn't have enough space."

"The speed limit is fifty-five! Look, I just saw a grandma pass you!"

"…That wasn't an old lady."

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Don't you listen to any good music?"

"Stay out of my CD case!"

"Who uses CDs anymore?"

"Me!"

"Soothing Sounds: A Collection of Classical Songs."

"What's wrong with classical music?"

"It puts me to sleep!"

"Good! Then you might shut up!"

"Nope. I talk in my sleep."

"It figures."

"Well so do you—and you snore."

"I do not!"

"Whatever you say."

"I thought I told you to stop touching my stuff!"

"Rhianna, Whitney Houston, Sia, The Beatles? Pick a genre, Bennett.

"You better not get smudges all over the disk—it's one of my favorites. I love Blackbird."

"Me too."

"There's nothing wrong with my other albums."

"I'm putting The Beatles CD in—because it's not on a list of Today's Hits."

"It is if you put on a classic rock station."

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night… Take these broken wings and learn to fly…"

"You know, if you drove faster you could have made that light."

"Shut up, Damon!"

The waiting room inside the Planned Parenthood clinic is cold and dark. Not in an ominous way, but in a dull way. The walk are a drab gray, the chairs are covered in a boring black and white pattern. The bright yellow scrubs the check-in nurse is wearing don't do anything for the atmosphere. Damon is leafing through the various women's magazines and pamphlets he found on the coffee table. I'm doing my best to fill out the necessary paperwork as accurately as possible.

"Oh… look…. Another uterus!" He holds the diagram sideways and closes one eye.

"Shut up!" I mutter under my breath.

Just then, another nurse emerges from behind a door. "Bonnie Bennett?"

I grab Damon's hand without thinking. "Don't make me go back alone!"

"Am I even allowed to be in the room with you?"

"We are going to find out!"

I stand up, pulling him to his feet, and drag him over to the door. The magazine he had been inspecting falls to the floor.

The nurse holds her hand up. "And who is this?"

"My boyfriend." I say.

The nurse, who has bright red hair and pink cat's eyeglasses, must have heard the way my voice trembled because she has no further questions. She leads us back into an exam room and leaves a gown on the table.

"Take everything off—except your socks. The doctor will be in shortly."

She shuts the door behind her.

"Go stand outside the door!" I order, kicking my boots off.

"But it's nothing I haven't seen before!"

I shoot him a dirty look.

"Fine. Just knock on the door when I can come back in."

I do just as the nurse asks and let Damon back in the room. I then hoist myself up onto the exam table, my palms leave the paper damp with sweat.

"You know, I saw a poster out there describing the effects of herpes."

"Only you would care that much about a lousy poster." I snip.

Damon pouts dramatically. "It was very informative—it was right up your alley."

Before I can respond a tall man in an orange tie and white lab coat enters the room. He looks to be about forty years old. He takes a pair of glasses out of his coat pocket and then flips through a few pages of my chart.

"You must be Bonnie," he puts his hand out. "I'm Dr. Green."

I wipe my palm on my gown before I shake his hand "Nice to meet you."

He turns to Damon. "And you are?"

"The moral support."

"I see…"

He goes over the steps of the procedure with me. All of his words blend together, and I find myself nodding along. "But first we have to see how far along you actually are."

"It can't be more than fourteen days." At least, I seriously hope it can't.

"We still need to do an ultrasound," he insists.

I lie back. The lights that seemed so dim in the lobby are so intense now. I close my eyes. It will be over soon… The wand he uses is cold and invasive and I have to remind myself that I read up on the whole process last night—I knew this was coming.

"It looks like you are about nine weeks."

My eyes snap open. The doctor turns the monitor my way.

He begins explaining how the fetus is developing. It sounds like gibberish to me, but I still act like I get it.

"I just don't see how that's possible! I did the math…. I counted… "

I steal a glance at Damon, who's eyes are transfixed on the blob on the screen.

"…Can you give us a second?" Damon asks

Dr. Green gives me a knowing look. "Certainly." And then he's gone.

"…You don't want to do this." Another statement.

I shake my head regretfully. "No. I don't think I ever did. Sorry."

"Well let's go then."

"Really?"

Damon sighs. "Yeah. I mean, we are going to have to come up with a really good solution, but I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Yeah."

He tosses my clothes at me. "Get dressed. I'm going to see if they can print out one of those scans for you."

"Wow… that's sweet of you."

"Don't flatter yourself. I just want to make sure that splotch isn't an alien."

"Damon?"

"What?"

"You can drive home."

I can't bring myself to exit the car.

We have been sitting in front of Damon's house for a good fifteen minutes, engine idling. I'm clutching the ultrasound images in my hands as if I need it to remain alive. Damon is staring straight ahead; he seems completely shell shocked.

"If we are going to do this, we are going to have to interact with each other. Probably for the rest of our lives."

He turns to look at me. "You say that like it's a death sentence."

"Well, if you told me we'd be in this position six months ago, I'd say it was."

"Plenty of women would kill to be in your spot, you know." He throws me I smile that I am forced to admit is pretty charming.

"Sorry… I'll make a mental note of that. It will boost my morale the next time I have my head in the toilet."

He laughs and knocks me on the arm playfully. "That's the spirit, champ!"

I allow myself to let go… if only for a moment. "Hey! That's reigning dart throwing champion to you!"

I am referencing one of the nights we went to the boardwalk while at the beach. I popped three more balloons than he did. What made it better was the fact that he was such a sore loser about the whole ordeal. So childish that he made me accompany him to where a caricature artist was stationed to "make up" for my cheating. I had ripped my picture up weeks ago.

"I still took more shots than you!"

"You totally lost count after the third one!" I protest.

There's that signature Damon smirk. "That's not my fault... I was distracted."

My cheeks grow hot. "I'm not distracting!"

"I already told you—don't sell yourself short. When you calm down and stop overthinking things, you are really fun to be around."

"I have to overthink things. How else am I going to get into an Ivy League college?"

Damon shrugs. "Don't know. My plan was to avoid being under my dad's thumb and join the military."

"That's… wow, I didn't think you even had a plan I… that's great, Damon." I don't tell him that I think each part of his statement is great. My Uncle Marshall is in the Navy and he's had a pretty successful career thus far. And his goal has nothing to do with Mr. Salvatore's expectations. "My parents have been up my butt about it since sophomore year… it's basically the only thing they actually care about." I admit bitterly. "That's why I'm not saying anything about the baby… yet."

"I don't really know what Daddy Dearest will think. It's a toss-up between stoic shame and blind fury—not that care. I gave up on trying to live up to his standards a while ago. Stefan has got that covered."

"… You're not that much of a disappointment." I joke. "Stop thinking of yourself like that. Brooding anti-hero is an overused trope."

"Did you just compare me to my brother?" he looks mildly offended.

I smile. I can't help it. "No… you're more of a Heathcliff."

"A what?"

"Who." I correct. "He's from one of my favorite books."

"You have more than one?"

"You might, too, if you visited a library every once in a while."

He pretends to give my suggestion serious consideration. "I'd love to, but why would I risk my reputation when I could read Fifty Shades of Grey in the comfort of my room?"

"Right." I make a face at the mention of the world's worst erotic novel. "You probably can't take Rebekah to a library. She's allergic to critical thinking."

"Oh burn! Judgy strikes again!"

I glare. "I'm not judgmental."

"Just a little bit." Damon counters. "It's okay… you're cute when you act all haughty."

"Gee, thanks."

He smiles at me innocently. "… you're welcome." And then in a more serious tone, "I know what I told you at school on the first day was mean. Shouldn't have said it."

I don't say anything. I'm in shock. I think that's the closest Damon's ever got to giving me an apology.

When I recover, I say, "careful Damon. I might start to think you care."

"We wouldn't want that."

"No, we wouldn't." My reply is followed by a heavy silence. Damon and I both stare straight ahead, watching as the sky begins to bleed pink, until he finally breaks it.

"I should probably go inside. It's been a long day." He gets out of my car and walks around to the passenger's side. "Drive safe, Bonster. Don't let little old ladies run you off the road."

"Take your copy before you go," I don't recognize the sound of my voice. I push the second roll of ultrasound pictures out of the open window.

He folds them up and puts them in his coat pocket. "Sweet dreams, Bon Bon!"

"Don't call me that!" I call after him. I'm surprised at how cheerful I sound.

"Night!"

I walk around to the driver's seat, conflicting emotions floating in my head.

At least I'm not alone, I think, and I begin the short drive back to my house.

"Where were you yesterday?" Caroline asks, but she doesn't really make it sound it like a question.

I shut my locker door. "I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

I expect a bunch of denials to spill out of her mouth. "I'm sorry. When Elena told me, I shouldn't have bombarded you like that."

"I don't need rumors about my personal business going around the school."

Care shakes her head furiously and holds her hand up. "I won't tell a soul. Scout's honor!"

"You were never a Girl Scout," I point out. "And it's been really hard to go through this without you guys…"

"I promise! I'll be a better friend to you!"

I sigh, "You better, because Damon is putting you two to shame."

"You were with Damon?" Caroline whispers.

"At Planned Parenthood."

Her blue eyes go wide. "Oh Bonnie, how are you feeling? Are you cramping? We will go to my house after school and eat tubes of cookie dough."

"We can totally do that." I say, "But I have something to show you." I reach into my bag and motion for her to come closer to me

Then I show her the ultrasound images.

"Oh wow," she breathes.

I quickly shove them back into my bag, tucking them into a random notebook. "I didn't go through with it."

"What does Enzo think?"

I shush her, giving her a very pointed glare. "Nothing. He doesn't know. And I'm not going to say anything yet."

"Oh my God! What does Damon think?" Her eyes are as wide as saucers.

I sigh. "I don't know… I think he's okay with it." I had been stunned at his ability to stay neutral while still allowing me to change my mind.

Caroline looks over her shoulder. I follow her gaze… right to Damon and Rebekah. A feeling I don't know the name of overtakes me.

"I just hope it stays that way."