Unpregnant

by Jenni Hendriks

What if I missed the stick? What if I did it wrong? I only had one of these and I couldn’t mess it up. I took a deep breath. I had a freakin’ 4.56 GPA, a membership in the National Honor Society, and was going to Brown University in the fall. I could damn well pee on a stick.

“Can you not tell anyone? Please?” I barely managed to whisper the words. Even to me they sounded pitiful and unconvincing. Who would hold back on this piece of gossip? I knew my reputation. Straight As. Varsity volleyball. Captain of the debate team. Clear skin, nice hair, cute nose. Most Liked and Most Likely to Succeed. Which meant that as much as everyone pretended to love me, most of them couldn’t wait for me to mess up.

“We trust you!” Her favorite line. One she’d been using on me since I was six to guarantee maximum guilt. The woman was good.

They were my best friends, but they weren’t the sort of friends you told something like this to. Ours was a friendship built on successes, not failures.

I could almost see it. There would be backyard barbecues, church on Sundays; everyone would say we were such a beautiful couple. And I would never stop hating him.

“Okay. But don’t tell them anything. I want our engagement to be a surprise.” He reached out the car window to stroke my arm. I swallowed my revulsion and marveled at just how obtuse he could be. After being together for years it was like I was seeing him for the first time.

“Abortion friend, abortion friend. Wouldn’t have to do this if you’d let him stick it in your end!”

“No!” I yelped before I could stop myself. Then, taking a deep breath, I let it all out. “See, I got into Brown on a scholarship and he was upset that I wasn’t going to go to Missouri State with him so he poked holes in the condoms to get me pregnant and then proposed tonight and my parents think I’m studying for finals with friends all weekend so this is the only chance I have to do it.” When I finally managed to look up, the pawnshop lady’s expression hadn’t changed.

“Thanks, ma’am.” He turned to me. “Veronica, why are you selling—” But the words died on his lips. “Did you get this girl pregnant on purpose?” I turned to see the pawnshop woman aiming a giant 12-gauge shotgun at Kevin’s face. Her eyes were cool and her hands were rock steady. “What? I . . .” “Did you. Get this girl. Pregnant

“Please,” the woman said. “I’m being generous since you managed to find yourself the biggest asshole in all of Missouri.”

A minute later we were pulling out of the parking lot while the pawnshop lady stood on the sidewalk, waving. “Good luck now! Y’all take care!”

“Seriously, Bailey? Kelly Clarkson? What happened to the dark, angry stuff?” “Shhh. Just let her speak to you.”

“Okay. That’s enough. We listened to the whole album. Now can we stop with the Kelly Clarkson?” “I’m never gonna stop with the Kelly Clarkson.”

“I’m just not in a Kelly Clarkson mood.” “No such thing.”

“Welcome to Mermaidz, two strong young women in control of their destinies.” He smiled and opened the door. Thumping bass exploded. Bailey sauntered through the door, then turned. “You coming?” she asked me. “What if I say no?” “Then I’d say, Have fun standing in the dark with Bubba there. Mama’s gonna make it rain.”

I’d grown up being told what I was planning to do was wrong, and it had seemed so clear-cut and obvious at the time. A test question with an easy answer. But as I grew older, I’d realized so many things they told me were true in church just didn’t match up with real life. And now that I was in this situation, nothing seemed as simple as they promised it would be.

I have to drive one thooooooousand miles, have my ride stolen, have a stripper kidnap me, lose my homework, and now I’m in the middle of a fuuuuucking field, and the fuuuucking train won’t fuuuuucking slow down . . . so FUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUU, MISSOURI STATE LEGISLATURE!!!”

I waited for regret. For a sense of horror at the crime I’d just committed. It didn’t come. I stepped closer and leaned over him as he flopped on the ground like a balding, pathetic fish. I pulled the probes from his chest. “Having a kid makes you ‘parent material,’ asshole.”

“You know, I still have a good feeling about this.” Bailey groaned. “Did tasing my dad magically turn you into an optimist?” No. But having Bailey next to me did.

no one should be forced to be a parent if they don’t want to be one.”

“We’re filled up on gas.” “Great. Here you go.” “Wait. What’s this?” “A Slurpee. Half blue raspberry, half cherry, with a splash of Coke. And the latest issue of UFO Encounters.” “I love you.”