Arista, my favorite sister, my biggest supporter, the sweetest girl in the whole wide world. How can it be her? What am I going to do? Why am I in this? Why?

-Ariel

Ariel Triton just stared at Arista, her sister, older by one year.

Arista was crying bucketloads, mascara dripping down her porcelain cheeks.

"Are—are you sure?" Ariel demanded, wanting to check every nook and cranny before admitting to this terrible feat. "You're only seventeen!"

Arista burst into tears. "The sad fact is last year I did a report in History about underage pregnancies and how bad they are and how they should never happen and how I would never get one because they're bad and—"

"Stop," Ariel said gently, taking Arista's hands. "I know you're scared."
"Ariel, I'm terrified!" Arista cried. "I don't know what I'm going to do! I can't tell Daddy, or any of the others! I only trust you. Ariel, what am I gonna dooooo?" Arista wailed.

Ariel buried her face into her hands. Oh my God.

"How did it happen?" Ariel asked, looking up at Arista.

She flopped back on her bed. Didn't reply.

"Who was it?" Ariel tried.

No response whatsoever.

"What's his name?" Ariel whispered.

Arista shut her eyes tight. "Robbie."
"Robbie Frayman?" Ariel questioned. "The geeky kid?"
"He's nice!" sobbed Arista. "He helped me with my English essay."
"And?" Ariel demanded. "How did it escalate from just an English essay?"
"I snuck out," Arista paused to blow her nose on a Kleenex Ariel passed her. "And we were ina bar. Little Paulo's."
Ariel shook her head. "Arista."
Arista threw her head back. "I know! Me. At Little Paulo's. I should've understood he was a sleazebag and left him when we went in the bar. But then—"

Ariel looked at her. "When did you know?"
"Last week," Arista replied. "I didn't have my you-know-what."
Ariel scratched her head, breathing out. She didn't know how to deal with this. She was just trying to get A's and graduate from Disney High without issues. But apparently, fate was against her.

Arista slid off the bed, drying her tears, and posed in front of the wall-to-wall mirror. "No baby bump," she said. "I can hide it."
"For NOW!" Ariel exploded. "What happens when a couple months pass? It'll be bulging out of your shirt like a frickin' beach ball!"

Arista looked at Ariel again. "Are you mad?"
"Geez, Arista," Ariel let out a breath. "We need to do something about this situation."
Arista gave Ariel a tiny smile. "Yeah, I figured. But that's good. I have a plan."
Ariel raised her eyebrows. "A plan."
"A good one," Arista made a cross-my-heart-hope-to-die sign across her chest, keeping one hand on her tummy.

"Let's hear it," Ariel said, crossing her arms.

Arista leaned forward. "We both work extra jobs. We use that money to buy an apartment in NYC somewhere. Close to Disney High so I can commute easily."
Ariel was already shocked. "Arista, an apartment?"
"An apartment!" Arista's eyes were shining. "I'll live there, with Robbie."
"Robbie?"
"He's the daddy," Arista pointed out as if Ariel were a toddler. "You can visit—"

"Stop," Ariel commanded. "You are seventeen."
"There are many things," Arista counterargued. "you can do at age seventeen. You can drive a car—"

"Arista," Ariel said slowly. "The easiest, stress-free way to deal with this…predicament would be to get an…" Ariel trailed off.

Arista narrowed her eyes. "Ariel, come on."
Ariel sighed. "Arista, you have to. You can't raise a child at this age."

"Abortions are wrong!" Arista yelled.

Ariel was shocked into silence.

Arista dissolved into tears again, choking on her grief. "I can't. I c-can't, Ariel. I w-wouldn't b able to l-live with the pain. And the g-guilt."
Ariel wrapped her arms around Arista. "But an apartment? Daddy will be suspicious if you say you're gonna be moving out before Attina. Or any of the rest of the girls."
"It's the only way," sniffled Arista. "We'll have to make him understand I'm independent."
"Right."
"Ready to move into a new nest."
"Yeah."
"So," Arista's voice seemed slightly doubtful. "Are you with me on this, Ariel?"

Ariel just looked at Arista, and then down to her stomach. A baby. Her sister, Arista. Ariel would be an aunt. And keeping this enormous secret from everybody else.

She looked at the ceiling awhile. Why her?

"Ariel?" persisted Arista in a soft voice.

Ariel finally found the courage inside her to look Arista in the eye. "Yeah," she said at last.

"I'm with you."

My mom asks me why I don't talk openly to her. I'm not ready yet, is my answer. And I'm not sure I ever will be.

-Jim

Jim lay back in his bed, thinking.

His school was falling to shambles. It had peeling paint, lockers that didn't work, not enough money to buy class sets of textbooks, not even enough money to give the teachers the money that they deserved.

Not that he gave a crap about any of the teachers, he just wished the school would get better so he would have an ounce of goodness to look forward to every weekday.

And he thought about the stress earlier today, when his mom had called him "Jimmy." And how he had freaked out afterward. "It's Jim," he had said. He didn't like anyone calling him Jimmy. It made him sound helpless somehow.

And then his mom had gone on and on how she missed calling him Jimmy.

Well, get used to it.

Jim ran his fingers through his hair.

His iPhone suddenly pinged with an email. Jim raised himself off the bed with a grunt, just wearing pants. He could see his abs in the light of the lamp.

He bent over his phone.

An email from Sinbad_theSailor.

Jim almost deleted it into his trash folder, but something made him stop. He read the first couple of lines.

Sinbad_theSailor:
-Hey son. How are you? I'll be dropping by soon to pay y'll a visit. My plane is dropping me off in NYC for a business trip and I'll be staying at a hotel near our street. You guys haven't moved locations, have you? If I know your mom, she's such a penny pincher she'd never leave one place for another because it's a "great save." Anyways, just giving you the heads up. Can't wait to see my boy again. How old are you now? Thirteen?

Jim stared in disbelief at the email. His own father didn't know how old he was? He ran his fingers along the rim of the phone, then he sat down and hit reply.

jHawkinsbro:

In Reply To: Sinbad_theSailor

-Hey dad. I guess im good. We havent left. I'm FIFTEEN, dad. Keep track of it. And remember: I'll be SIXTEEN next year in july. id rather u didn't visit. Bcuz last time it riled evrybody up and all. So yeah. No offense or anything. G'night.

He was just about to dive back into the comforts of his bed when his phone pinged again.

"What does he want?" Jim snapped, turning back to his email.

Sinbad_theSailor

In Reply To: jHawkinsbro

-You don't have a choice but see your old dad's face, Jimmy. And I'm not a bloody idiot; I know damn well you'll turn 16 next year. And I'm sure your mother will be fine. Goodnight, son.

Jim stared at the email, and couldn't resist.

jHawkinsbro:

In Reply To: Sinbad_theSailor

-You can come, but we won't open the door. If you wanna make a fool of urself, go ahead. Its fine w/ me. G'night.

Oh, and PS

It's JIM.