Chapter 24 Saturday, May 13th
Cat
“Brady and I are officially broken up,” Vada announces loud and proud when she, Summer, Tori, and I take our seats around a rustic picnic table complete with a red-and-white checkered plastic tablecloth.
The four of us have officially survived our freshman year of college. Summer, Zack, and Vada are back home in New York. We’re buzzing with giddy excitement. It’s the first time we’ve been together in months, and the prospect of a long summer together is almost too good to be true.
Summer snags one of the laminated menus wedged between the salt and pepper shakers lined up at the end of the table. “I feel like you’ve said this before. So when you say ‘official,’ do you mean like, officially official?”
Vada nods. “Officially official.”
“So what made you call off your open, on-again, off-again… whatever that was?” Tori asks, skimming the menu with the name Pepper’s BBQ printed in bold Comic Sans across the top.
I love this place. It’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall—well, more like a shack in a dirt parking lot—restaurant Ronan brought me to not long after we started dating two years ago.
That was before I knew he didn’t eat beef or pork.
I still remember offering him half my rack of ribs and how politely he turned them down.
I thought he was just being sweet—and he was—but I had no idea he was probably trying not to gag.
Those ribs? Exactly what I’m ordering today. Along with a giant scoop of coleslaw. I’m starving.
“Commitment-phobia,” Vada says simply.
“You or him?” Summer asks, not looking up.
“Me,” Vada says, slapping her menu onto the table. “I’m ready to order.”
“Me too,” I say enthusiastically.
Summer giggles. “Me three.”
Tori clicks her tongue. “Ready to commit to food, but not to a relationship.”
“Hardly the same thing.” Vada waves her off, laughing.
A young guy I recognize as the owner’s grandson comes to take our orders, quickly jotting them down on a notepad before he walks away.
Vada watches him as he walks back toward the building, passing the massive black smoker trailing ribbons of mouthwatering smoke.
“Now him I wouldn’t mind being on-again, off-again with this summer,” she says, eyebrows raised.
Summer grins. “I say go for it. But speaking of this summer, what do we have planned?”
Tori claps excitedly. “Well, I think the plan was beach camping for a few days around July Fourth.”
“Yes!” Vada shouts.
“But other than that, I don’t think we have solid plans yet,” Tori says, unfazed by the boisterous interruption.
“I honestly just want to spend as much time with you as possible,” I say. “I’ve missed you guys!”
“You don’t want to spend every waking second rejoicing in your reunion with Ran?” Summer asks, one eyebrow raised.
I laugh. “I do, and I’m very much rejoicing.
But he’s still busy with work. And for some reason he signed up for a full class load this summer, so I don’t think we’ll have all that much time together.
” I pretend not to know the reason he kept his plate full when, in reality, I know he signed up when we were still broken up, probably to keep himself distracted.
Vada gives a dramatic thumbs-down. “Boo.”
“Oh, and Randi’s set to visit for a couple weeks in July,” I say.
Vada snorts. “I’m still surprised you’re cool with that.”
I’ve filled them in on what happened—over many late-night calls, some with all of us on the line. They know about the breakup. About Montana. About the talk Ronan and I had while we were there. Well, most of it. I didn’t tell them about his aunt. That’s not mine to share.
But even though my perception of Miranda has drastically changed, Vada is still skeptical.
“I mean, I don’t really have a choice,” I say with a shrug. “Like it or not, Randi is part of Ran’s life. And now I get why. They’re important to each other. I didn’t understand that before, but I do now.”
“Plus, Randi’s pretty fucking cool,” Tori says. “Just you wait, Vada. She’ll give you a run for your money.”
Vada puckers her lips and lifts her brows. “Guess we’ll see,” she says, voice low and teasing as our waiter returns carrying a full tray of food. Vada has no shame. “Ooh, look at all that delicious meat,” she says, clearly not referring to the food.
“Oh my god,” Summer giggles into her palm.
The guy grins at her, teeth flashing. He sets down our plates, and Vada thanks him with a flirtatious smile that’s about as subtle as a firework.
As he walks off, she leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Okay, okay, I’m thinking I’ll take the opportunity this summer to live a little.”
“Or cause chaos,” Summer teases.
“Chaos Vada-style. I like it,” she says, then tugs the corner of her napkin into her collar, clearly planning to get messy.
I inhale the smell of smoky barbeque winding its way into my nose. My tray is piled high with saucy ribs, thick slices of cornbread, and a heaping scoop of slaw. It’s exactly what I wanted. It’s exactly what I was craving.
But the second I see it all laid out in front of me, my stomach turns. Like I’ve been riding a carousel too long.
My appetite vanishes, replaced by a strange pressure in my chest. Like something is out of sync. I blink, frowning at the plate.
“What’s wrong?” Summer asks. “Why are you making that face?”
Tori leans closer. “Is there a hair in your food?”
“No, it’s just…” I trail off. “I thought I wanted ribs, but now that I see and smell them, I don’t know. I feel kind of sick.”
I push the plate away slowly.
Vada shrugs. “Well, you’re pregnant, that’s why,” she mumbles, mouth already full.
I shoot her a look. “Haha,” I say, my tone dry. “Don’t even joke—”
The rest of the words don’t come out right, getting stuck somewhere in my throat as a slow, creeping wave of heat rises from my chest to my face.
My pulse stumbles over itself. There’s a strange ringing in my ears.
My hands feel clammy against the table. My breath shortens without warning, becoming shallow and quick like I’ve just sprinted five blocks to catch the train.
When the hell was my last period?
I yank my phone out of my pocket and pull up the calendar app. I frantically swipe between days and months while trying to breathe.
“I was joking,” Vada says quickly.
Summer and Tori have gone still, forks hovering in midair. They’re watching me, eyes shifting from amusement to unease.
No, not February. I definitely had one after that.
“Cat?” Tori says gently.
A soft, strangled sound escapes me. “Oh god.”
“Kitty Cat?” Tori sets her hand on my forearm as if to draw me out of my mania.
“You’re scaring me.” Vada’s voice is small. So is she, suddenly, her usually loud personality muted.
I swallow what feels like ash. “I’m late,” I whisper, afraid to say it out loud, afraid that will make it real. More real.
“Are you sure?” Summer asks.
I nod. My heart thuds in my throat like it’s trying to punch its way out of my body.
Tori squeezes my arm gently. “How late?”
My eyes fly back to my phone. “I… I don’t know.” I scroll furiously, trying to somehow reconstruct the timeline, but my brain won’t cooperate. All I feel is panic. Just panic. Just static. “Oh god.”
My chest is rising and falling too fast. I can’t catch a full breath.
Tori gently pries the phone from my hands. Her blue eyes are steady, soft. “Okay, stop,” she says calmly—the opposite of how I feel.
I can’t form a single coherent thought. Just: Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
“You’re probably just stressed,” Summer says. “The last few months were hell, and finals don’t exactly help. Your body’s probably just playing catch-up.”
I latch onto her words like they’re gospel. I nod. Yeah, okay. I’m just stressed. That’s all. Just stress.
Vada flags down the waiter with one hand, the other still holding her fork. “But let’s just get a test,” she says, matter-of-factly. “That way we can rule it out.”
The young waiter reappears, and she turns on a dazzling smile. “Could we get some to-go boxes? And feel free to include your phone number,” she says with a wink.
I don’t know how Vada can flirt right now, but for some reason, I’m grateful she can. Like if she’s not panicking, if she can still be Vada, maybe everything isn’t crashing down around me. Maybe I don’t have to panic, either.
***
“You’re still on the pill, right?” Tori asks when we’re in the backseat of Vada’s car.
I nod, nausea churning in my stomach. I can’t tell if it’s from the panic or if it’s… something else. “Yeah. I never stopped taking it,” I say. “But I missed a couple of days when Ran and I were broken up.”
Summer turns in the front passenger seat, giving me a sympathetic look. “That’s not ideal, but I’m sure you’re fine. You’ve been on the pill for how long? I can’t imagine a couple of missed days would immediately undo years of being careful, right?”
I swallow down the bile threatening to rise. “I hope not.”
We drive to the nearest drugstore, march to the aisle with the feminine hygiene products, and stare at the wall of pregnancy tests. I had no idea there were so many kinds. Digital, non-digital, early detection, some with fancy displays, others that look like strips of paper.
“Uhh,” I mutter, hovering. I have the sudden urge to bolt.
“Let’s grab these,” Summer says, picking a box with three early-response non-digital tests. “I think these were the ones my brother’s girlfriend used during their scare last year. She was negative, so maybe that’s a good sign.”
I don’t have a reason to disagree.
“Where are we going?” Vada asks once we’re back in her car.
“My parents are home,” I say quickly, shaking my head like that could somehow undo all of this.
“So are mine,” Summer says.
Vada glances at Tori in the rearview mirror. “Ran’s still in Boston helping Stevie move, right? Is Shane working?”
“Yeah. We could go to their apartment,” Tori says. “We’ll just need to toss the tests after or the boys will freak.”
I’m not convinced throwing them in a random dumpster will prevent said freaking.
Tori has to unlock the apartment because my fingers aren’t steady enough to get the key in the lock. As soon as she opens the door, I squeeze past her and rush to the small bathroom, box of pregnancy tests in hand.
I click the lock in place and tear the box open. That little instructional pamphlet is suddenly the most important thing I’ve ever read. I follow the steps precisely, then set the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter.
I unlock the bathroom door a minute later and join Tori, Vada, and Summer in the living room.
“I have to wait three minutes,” I say when Vada peeks at my hands like I walked in already knowing the outcome.
We sit on the couch in silence, knees bouncing, hands fidgeting. The energy is restless, anxious.
“I never realized how long three minutes are,” Summer mutters, picking at her nails.
“Same, girl. Same,” Vada says.
I jump up from the couch. “I can’t take it anymore.” I hurry to the bathroom, Vada, Tori, and Summer on my heels, then freeze in the bathroom doorway.
I can see the two pink lines from here. Bold. Certain.
Oh god, it’s positive. I’m pregnant. Oh god.
“No,” I whimper, stepping closer like maybe distance might change something. I pick up the offending thing, holding it in my hands like it might explode. “No.” My voice cracks.
I turn to my friends for help, my eyes huge, hands clammy.
“Maybe it’s a false positive,” Vada says, always the optimist. “Take another one!” She already unwraps another test and shoves it into my hand, taking the one with the damning pink lines from me.
I do as she says and repeat the process.
This time, I don’t bother leaving the bathroom.
The four of us just stand, staring at the test, watching as one pink line is quickly joined by a second.
That test didn’t even hesitate. It knows.
The third and final test, too, turns positive within seconds of me taking it.
I stare at the tests lined up on the counter like they’re pieces of evidence in a trial I never meant to be on the stand for.
My knees buckle and I sink to the edge of the tub, the cold porcelain biting through my jeans.
My breath shudders in and out, thin and shallow, and suddenly I feel like I’m underwater. Like I can’t surface.
“Oh god,” I say, again. A cracked whisper. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to squeeze the moment out of existence. “Oh god. What am I going to do?”
No one answers. No one can.
A thought slams into my chest. “How am I supposed to tell Ran?” My voice shakes. With emotion, with fear.
“He’s going to think I did this on purpose,” I say, panic pulsing through me. “We just had that huge fight. He doesn’t want kids. He set a boundary. He made that so clear.”
I look up at my friends, my face crumpling, voice breaking open like a wound. “He’s going to think I’m trapping him into this.”
Tori kneels beside me, her hand on my back. Vada crouches down in front of me, her eyes shiny now. Even Summer looks shaken, helpless.
“He won’t,” Tori says, low, soothing.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I say. “I can’t be pregnant. I wasn’t supposed to be pregnant. We were careful.”
The word feels laughable now. Pathetic.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “He’s going to be so upset. My parents are going to kill me. And what about school?”
I’m spiraling, and I know it.
“Deep breaths, Kitty Cat,” Vada says, soothing. “Everything is going to work out. Ran loves you. You know that. And your parents can hardly be upset unless they want you to call them hypocrites, right? And you have options,” she says, heavy meaning tucked between her words.
But that’s a decision I know I can’t make on my own.
“Do you want to call Ran?” Summer asks.
Tori and I shake our heads in unison. She understands this isn’t something to say over the phone. This is something I have to tell him in person.
“Okay… when’s he coming home?” Summer asks.
I suck in a shuddering breath. “Not until late tomorrow.”
And then I start to cry. Not loud sobs, just quiet, broken sounds slipping out of me like my body’s trying to make space for the weight of it all.
I already know I won’t talk to him for the rest of the weekend.
Not today, not tomorrow. I’ll text him quick, casual things that sound like me, but I know I can’t risk hearing his voice, or worse, letting him hear mine.
He’d know something’s wrong. He always knows.
He’s scarily good at reading body language, listening to inflections.
He’d be able to tell something is deeply wrong the second I said “hi.” And for some reason, the thought of not getting to speak to him, when he’s the one person I need most, especially right now, adds a new layer of sorrow.