Chapter 10 Zalea
TEN
ZALEA
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
“Ugh, I feel like absolute shit,” I mutter, stumbling into the kitchen after puking my guts out.
“That’s what happens when you drink like you’ve got a death wish,” Zale says, setting a plate of breakfast down in front of me.
“I do not drink that heavily,” I say defensively, smacking his arm as he drops into the chair beside me.
“You always drink that heavily at Gabriel’s goodbye parties,” he replies with an eye roll before shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth.
I take a bite of toast and stay quiet. Gabriel qualified for the World Surf Tour. Again. Which means he’ll be gone for a year. Again. While I’ll be stuck surfing local competitions with the town's youth surf team—the Saltwater Shredders.
It isn’t the first time Gabriel’s leaving. He’s been on tour for four years now, only coming home for a few months at a time to re-qualify for the next one. But those months in between are my favourite.
Over the last five years, we not only rekindled our friendship, but we also became something more. Not quite dating, but not quite friends either. I guess we’re what you’d call ‘friends with benefits’, or a ‘situationship’.
“Whatever,” I mumble when I catch Zale watching me, one eyebrow raised. “I just wanted to give him a proper send-off. That’s all.”
“Right,” he scoffs, shaking his head.
I drop my toast back onto the plate and stand, my stomach already rolling from the smell of food.
“I’ll be at the beach,” I say, grabbing my wet suit and board from beside the back door.
“You barely ate,” he calls, pointing at my plate.
“I’m not hungry,” I lie. “Especially after all that bullshit you just spewed at me.”
“Oh, come on, Zalea! We’ve got a competition later. You need to eat,” he shouts after me. “And you know what I said isn’t bullshit.”
I shoot him a warning glare before heading out, and strap my board to the side of my bike, slinging my wetsuit over my shoulders. I pedal the short distance to the beach where I find Maliah and Koa, members of the Saltwater Shredders, already there.
“Hey, girl,” Maliah calls, waving me over. “Practicing for the competition later?”
“I just need some air,” I say, letting out a shaky breath as I watch Koa take on a wild wave.
“You don’t look so good,” Maliah says, frowning as she studies my face. “What’s going on?”
I drop my board and wetsuit and sink down beside her towel. “I think I caught some kind of stomach bug,” I mutter, rubbing my face.
“Is it your period?” she asks. “I get awful stomach pain before mine.”
I freeze, staring at the sand as cold floods my veins.
My period…is late.
Two weeks late.
How did I not notice?
I slowly look up, turning to Maliah who’s still watching me, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. It takes less than five seconds for realization to hit as her posture stiffens and her expression sobers.
“Zalea,” she breathes. “Is it possible?”
My hands start to shake, my chest tightening like I’m tipping into shock. “I mean…it’s always possible, right? No preventative is one hundred percent effective, not even birth control.”
“Right,” she says, nodding, looking a little green herself. “We should check. Before the competition and before Gabriel leaves.”
My throat closes, unshed tears burning my eyes, and I nod. Maliah calls out to Koa to watch our boards, grabs her bag, and hops onto the back of my bike. I push off, peddling us toward the only convenience store in town.
When we get there, I can’t bring myself to go inside.
“Saltwater Springs is a small town, Mal,” I say, panic setting in. “If anyone sees me buying a pregnancy test, my parents will know before I even see the results.”
Not to mention Frankie, the convenience store owner, is best friends with my parents.
“I’ll buy it,” Maliah says, gripping my shoulders. “My dad’s off living his best life somewhere in Europe, and everyone here hates him anyway. He’ll never find out.”
I nod, grateful, and we settle on a plan before heading in.
I go first, grabbing a bag of chips, a protein bar, and a litre of water. I make small talk with Frankie about the competition later today, pay, then head to the restroom. As soon as I’m inside, I twist the cap off my water and start chugging.
Three minutes later, Maliah slips in after me. “I swear Frankie almost called the damn church when she saw what I was buying,” she hisses, quickly pulling the pregnancy test box from her reusable bag.
I bite back a smile. That sounds exactly like Frankie. She never misses a Sunday and truly believes prayer can fix anything, and anyone.
“Do you want me to stay?” Maliah asks. “Or wait by the bike?”
Part of me wants her here, but the other part knows I’ll fall apart if this comes back positive, and I don’t want her to see me like that.
“I’ll meet you outside” I say, taking another long swig of water. I definitely need to pee now.
She nods and heads for the door. “Tell the church I say thanks Frankie,” she calls out. “Looks like I got my period the moment I walked into that restroom, so I guess I’ll just save the test for another day.”
I chuckle when I hear Frankie release an exaggerated sigh of relief. But once the door clicks shut and I’m alone again, my heartbeat spikes.
“Alright,” I whisper to myself. “Let’s just get this over with.”
I step into the stall, and do the damn thing.
A few seconds later, I’m back to standing in front of the sinks as I stare down at the stick in my hand. Nothing happens right away, but when a line appears, I’m flooded with an overwhelming amount of relief.
“I’m not pre—”
Slowly, but unmistakably, a second line forms right after it.
“No,” I whisper.
I shake the stick, like that might change something, and my hands begin to tremble so badly I have to sit down.
I slide back until I’m on the dirty bathroom floor, my shoulder pressed against the wall, knees pulled to my chest. The tiles are cold through my shorts, and the air smells vaguely sour, but all I can do is stare at those two lines until they blur together.
Positive.
There’s no other word for it.
My chest tightens as I press my forehead into my knees, my breathing shallow, counting nothing and everything all at once. I read the instructions again to make sure I’m not wrong, but it says it right there—in black and white. Two lines means I’m pregnant.
My stomach flips, dread and disbelief tangling so tight I can barely separate them.
Gabriel’s face flashes through my mind and I squeeze my eyes shut, like that might erase the test, erase the way my entire future just shifted.
My hands are still shaking when I finally wrap the stick in toilet paper, tucking it deep into my pocket.
“Okay,” I whisper as I stand up and stare at my reflection in the mirror, my voice barely holding. “Okay.”
But nothing feels okay at all.
“Go home, Evans. I don’t want you puking out there,” Coach Lawson says. “Get better, then come back stronger for the next one.”
He's tall and broad-shouldered, with light brown hair and a permanently irritated expression. He’s also the Saltwater Springs high school football coach—and the only person in town who’s been willing to step up and coach our surf team for the last four years.
“Thanks, Coach,” I mumble, turning away from the pre-competition team meeting and heading toward the path home.
My eyes catch on Maliah who gives me a worried look before glancing away. Zale notices the exchange and narrows his eyes suspiciously before refocusing on Coach Lawson.
It takes me twice as long to get home because I drag my feet the entire way. Luckily, my parents won’t be back until after the competition since they’ll be busy cheering Zale on, so I head straight to my room and curl up on my bed.
I cry for what feels like hours until I’m almost asleep, but a familiar tapping sound pulls me back.
I sit up, holding my breath as I listen for the sound again, and another tap against my window causes me to jump out of bed and rush over to look outside where I find Gabriel standing below, a brown paper bag dangling from one hand.
“Meet me out front?” he asks quietly.
I manage a small smile, even as my heart pounds painfully in my chest, and nod.
I’m not ready to see him, but he leaves in the morning. This might be my last chance to tell him everything if I’m planning to do it in person.
I pull on a fleece sweater before heading downstairs and meeting him on the front porch steps.
“I went to watch you surf but heard you weren’t feeling well,” he says, patting the brown paper bag beside him. “ I brought some hangover soup.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, forcing a smile as I sit next to him.
He studies my face for a moment, brow creased. “Have you been crying?”
My smile breaks as my lip trembles, and within seconds I start sobbing, folding in on myself.
Gabriel pulls me close, one arm firm around my shoulders, rocking us gently as he murmurs, “Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
But it isn’t. I’m about to change his entire life, and he doesn’t even know it yet.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out between sobs.
Gabriel goes completely still. The rocking stops and the soft reassurance cuts off like someone flipped a switch.
“What?” he croaks.
I can’t make myself say it again. Instead, I dig into the pocket of my shorts and pull out the pregnancy test, still wrapped in toilet paper, and hand it to him.
He lets me go and takes it, unrolling it slowly. I watch carefully as his face drains of colour while he stares down at the two lines, and I feel my heart break all over again.
“This is…real?” he asks hoarsely. “You’re not messing with me, right?”
“It’s real,” I whisper.
He sets the test down on the porch between us and finally looks up, running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were on birth control though.”
“I was. I am,” I say. “But it still happened.”
“Right,” he mutters, rubbing his face, dragging his hands over his eyes before pushing his hair back again. “Okay. What do you want to do?”
I swallow and shrug, and judging by the way his jaw tightens, that’s not the answer he was waiting for.
“You’re not thinking about keeping it, are you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” I say, my voice cracking. “I only found out a couple hours ago. I’m still trying to process it all.”
“You’ve known for hours,” he says quietly. “And I’m just finding out now?” He exhales sharply. “Zalea…we can’t keep it.”
“I know,” I whisper, my chest aching as the words leave my mouth.
Why does saying it hurt so much? I know better than anyone that we can’t do this. We can’t be parents, and I can’t be a mom.
“Okay,” he says, breathing out hard. “Good.”
I nod, silent, trying to make sense of the tangle of grief and relief and fear twisting inside me.
“I’m sorry,” he adds after a moment. “That I won't be here to go with you to…terminate the pregnancy.”
“Terminate what?”
Both of us snap our heads up, finding Zale standing a few steps away, and standing behind him are my parents. My dad’s face is already darkening, his hands curling into fists as his eyes lock onto Gabriel angrily. Gabriel jumps to his feet, backing away slowly as my dad approaches.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say, and sure enough, I double over as everything I’ve eaten today comes back up onto the porch.