Chapter Two September 13
Chapter Two
And she didn’t just choose me. She plucked me from obscurity and wrapped me in a shield of her braided wings.
Andie has the kind of freckles you only see with filters, and somehow her long and lithe limbs are like one continuous line that flows as peacefully as a warm breeze on a perfect April afternoon.
“Did you ask them yet?” she asks.
“No,” I reply. “This is definitely not the best time to ask for their blessing to go on an overnight trip with a bunch of teenage boys.”
Andie has been my savior through all of this. I didn’t mean to tell her everything about me and my family. At least, not every last detail. I have this tendency to overshare and scare people away. But with Andie it’s different. I feel safe around her. No masks. No fake personas. Just me.
“That’s not how you pitch it, Lennon.” Andie clears her throat before nodding, her expression switching from playful to serious.
“This retreat is an opportunity for ninth-graders to become familiar with the faculty and meet their peers through a series of get-to-know-you games and fun outdoor challenges that promote health and socializing in a safe—emphasis on chaperoned—setting.”
“Maybe you should ask them,” I say, slamming my locker shut.
“Do you really think they’d say no? It’s a school-sanctioned event!”
I shrug as my eyes look past Andie, focusing on the older students who roam the halls with a seemingly endless amount of calm and confidence.
Georgie hasn’t started senior year yet. She’s not even showing but she feels awful all day long.
When she’s not throwing up, she wants to throw up.
Her peers keep coming to me, asking where she is.
When will she be back? I don’t even know if they know.
Zach’s been at school, though. It’s like his life has barely changed.
“Lennon?”
“What?”
“Are you going to ask your parents about the retreat tonight or not?” Andie asks as she runs a lip gloss wand over her lips. “Tomorrow’s the last day to submit the form.”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head as I let out an exasperated breath.
“I just don’t want to make them any more upset than they already are.
It’s like walking around a land mine. The other day I didn’t close the cereal box properly and my dad lost it on my mom.
Saying how they raised ungrateful, spoiled girls.
” His scathing words had felt like a dagger.
I’d done nothing wrong, and yet I was being lumped in with Georgie’s mistake anyway. It’s not fair. None of it is.
“I wouldn’t take what your dad says in a fit of frustration too seriously, you know? My parents are always losing their shit.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” I say.
Andie offers me her lip gloss, but I shake my head. Zach walks past us and nods at me ever so slightly. Andie and I look at one another, both scrunching our faces in disgust.
“Do you think your sister will marry him?” she asks.
“Ugh. I never even thought of that.”
“Come on.” Andie locks her arm with mine as we walk down the hall. “You need this break. Ask them tonight. Or sign the form and ask for forgiveness later.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. Let’s take the scenic route to class. The football team has practice in the gym this morning.” She giggles as she tugs on my arm to walk faster.
I’m in the kitchen, washing the dishes left over from dinner.
Zach and his parents are out back with Georgie and our parents.
Hot water from the tap turns warm as it runs over my hands.
I’ve been scrubbing the last pot for well over five minutes while watching events unfold through the window over the sink.
The parents alternate between resting their hands on their hips and crossing their arms over their chests.
Zach and Georgie sit on separate outdoor sofas, avoiding eye contact with everyone.
Dinner started off pleasantly enough. There were hugs.
Tears. Compliments about the food and the house decor.
Mom even smiled. Tonight was the first time my parents had met Zach’s parents.
We knew about Zach. He was the reason Georgie and my father had fought most of her junior year.
But they’d given in, eventually, and allowed her to see him.
They’d set ground rules. Georgie ignored them all. And then some.
When Georgie ran off to the bathroom to throw up during dinner, the table fell silent. That’s when the facade of acceptance dropped. More like shattered.
I went to check on Georgie, mostly to escape Dad’s angry tirade against Zach.
His parents stepped in to defend him, as parents do.
Once Georgie came back, Dad’s anger turned on her.
Zach spoke up for her, or spoke for her, not really sure.
His parents told him to stay out of it. The most civil of fights broke out after that and ended with more tears.
Mom suggested coffee out back. Some fresh air. And now they’re at it again.
I’m not sure what they’re saying to one another. All I know is that there’s no one solution that will make everyone happy.
Once the last dish is washed and put away, Georgie comes through the sliding door and runs upstairs to her room, leaving the door open in her haste. As I walk to close it, I notice only my parents remain out back. Zach and his parents must have just left through the backyard gate.
Mom and Dad are talking now and doing a poor job of keeping their voices down.
Mom worries how to tell her family back home about this.
That’s when she’s not lamenting about how the women at church will react to the news.
Dad keeps saying “What does she want from us?” over and over.
Like he’s offered Georgie his best deal and is angry she won’t accept it.
A text from Georgie lights up my phone screen. Come to my room.
I stall, phone in hand, watching my parents, my heart aching for them.
The atmosphere around here since Georgie revealed her pregnancy has been so stiff.
Guarded. But if I’m being honest with myself, it’s been building to this for a while.
It used to be that no matter what I was dealing with at school, I knew that when I stepped inside my home I could leave it all behind me.
I was safe. Loved. And now Georgie had to ruin all of that by having unprotected sex with some average white guy.
I can’t even blame my parents. It’s not just the disappointment. They’re completely heartbroken.
All the years of hard work raising us, instilling their morals and values, have dissolved with one moment of impulse.
Or passion. Maybe boredom? I wonder if it was her first time.
Imagine getting pregnant the first time you have sex?
That’s for sure a sign that God’s punishing you for having relations before marriage.
Sex and God. It’s like they’re one in the same sometimes. Can’t think about sex without thinking about God. Religion. Culture. Disappointing my parents. The guilt. The shame. How does Georgie live with herself?
My parents are now seated on an outdoor sofa, side by side. Quiet. My phone is still in my hand, lit up with Georgie’s text. Releasing a deep breath, I walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs toward Georgie’s bedroom and knock on the door.
“Come in,” she says. She’s seated on her bed, legs crossed, texting on her phone. Likely to Zach. They’re both probably venting about how terribly everything went. Or maybe they’re coming up with a plan to either run away together or break up. I wonder what would be easier. On everyone.
“Sit,” Georgie instructs as she puts her phone down next to her.
I sit on the edge of her bed, wedging my hands in between my knees, eyes on the frilly white rug covering the oak floor.
“Well, that was a shit show,” Georgie says, with the smallest release of laughter. “Can you believe both sets of parents want us to get married?”
I clear my throat, carefully raising my eyes to meet hers. “You don’t want to?”
Georgie exhales as her gaze moves around the room. “I’ve barely accepted the fact that I’m pregnant. I can’t even think about getting married. Oh god,” she says, her face contorting.
“What is it?”
“Oh god,” she repeats as she jolts out of bed and into the bathroom attached to her room.
The toilet seat squeaks as she raises it.
I get up to hold her hair and rub her back.
It’s not even a thought, no matter how disgusting it all is.
Watching my sister’s tough, foul-mouthed, tell-it-like-it-is demeanor crumble as she’s become restricted to either her bedroom, due to exhaustion, or the toilet, due to nausea, makes me want to be there for her. But then there’s the other part…
I’d never say this out loud, but on the night we found out, I prayed to God that Georgie would lose her baby.
In a natural way so she wouldn’t feel guilty for making the wrong choice and so everything could go back to normal.
I’m such a terrible person for wishing death upon a fetus but this fetus has destroyed everything.
And I hate it. I hate this baby. I hate Georgie for getting pregnant.
I hate my parents for making Georgie feel like she did something wrong.
Almost everyone has sex (eventually). Why is it such a sin for us to even think about it?
But then, Georgie did more than just think.
“Can you get me a towel?” Georgie asks after flushing the toilet.
Her arms remain draped over the seat, strands of her sweat-filled hair framing her face.
I get up and grab a face towel from the stack on the marble counter, turning the faucet on, waiting for the temperature to reach hot before wetting the towel and bringing it to Georgie.
She releases a heavy breath as she wipes her face and pats down her neck and chest.
I help Georgie up, holding onto her arm as we walk back to bed.
“What’re Mom and Dad doing?” she asks as she climbs in. I cover her with a blanket before sitting by her feet.
“They’re in the backyard. Talking.”
“Talking,” Georgie repeats, before clearing her throat. “So, how’s grade nine been?” she asks, the subject change so jarring I find myself sitting up straighter.
“Mostly uneventful.”
“Make any friends?”
“One. Her name is Andie. I really like her.”
A smile lights up Georgie’s face. “That’s amazing, Len. I’m so happy you found someone. I told you high school would be better for making friends.”
“Friend. Just the one.”
“That’s all you need,” Georgie says.
“Are you coming back to school?” I ask.
“Eventually.” She nods. “Just need to talk to the principal. Make sure there’s some flexibility, given appointments and, you know, my need to run to the toilet on a moment’s notice.”
“That will pass. I mean, from what I’ve read.” I turn in my spot to face Georgie, who is less pale than she was a moment ago. “Andie really wants to go on the ninth-grade retreat, but I haven’t asked Mom or Dad because…”
“I fucked everything up. It’s okay, you can say it. It’s true,” Georgie says.
“Do you think it will make them mad if I ask? There’s no point, right?”
“There’s always a point. Your life shouldn’t stop just because of my actions. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Okay, but there’s fair and there’s reality. What do you think my chances are?”
“It’s all about timing,” Georgie says. “Wait until the mood is right.”
“The form is due tomorrow.”
“Lennon.”
“I know. I have a tendency to put things off.”
“Do you want me to ask for you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can do it. I should do it. I really like Andie, and I don’t want to lose her as a friend.”
“You won’t.”
“That’s not true. Every friend I’ve ever made, I’ve lost.”
“No. They’ve lost,” Georgie says with a smile.
“I’m trying not to come on too strong with her, you know? But if she goes on this retreat without me, she’ll probably make new friends and I’ll be left behind. Again.”
Georgie whips the blanket off and gets up. She reaches for my hand. “Come with me.”
I nod and follow her down the stairs.
Our parents are in the kitchen now. Mom’s wiping counters as Dad sips on a cup of tea.
“Lennon is too afraid to ask you because of everything going on, but I think it’s important that she goes.”
“Goes where?” Mom asks, dishcloth in hand.
“The ninth-grade retreat,” I answer. “It’s up in Muskoka. Just one night. At the end of the month.”
“Is it mandatory?” Dad asks.
My eyes find Georgie’s.
“It’s not,” Georgie says. “But it would be good for her. She’s made a new friend, who wants her to go. You know as well as I do that Lennon needs to learn how to foster relationships.”
What Georgie is on the verge of not so eloquently saying is that my parents, who have been desperate for me to make friends and live a normal life, should jump at the chance for me to go on this retreat so I can hold on to this one friend for dear life, or else I’ll return to my “concerning” loner ways.
“Why didn’t you tell us about a new friend?” Mom asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“We’ll think about it,” Dad says as he returns his cup to its saucer.
“The form is due tomorrow,” Georgie says, before I have a chance to. “It’s a school trip. Teachers will be there. I went on this retreat when I was in ninth grade.”
“And look where that got you,” Dad says quietly.
“This isn’t about me,” Georgie replies, her tone even. “It’s important Lennon be pushed out of her comfort zone. This would be a good push for her.”
“Where’s the form?” Dad asks, shoulders dropping.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, opening the email with the form attached. “They sent it to you, too,” I say as I hand it to him. I don’t know why I said that. My parents are not the type to open school emails.
Georgie stands behind me as we both wait for our father to make his decision.
“What do you think?” he asks our mother.
Mom offers a small smile. “It would be good for Lennon to make more friends.”
Dad breathes out a sigh before nodding. “Print this out and I’ll sign it.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” I say to my parents before looking at Georgie, who has regained some of her sparkle.
“And Lennon,” Dad says as Georgie and I are walking out of the kitchen. We both stop and turn to look at him. “Promise me you’ll be a good girl on this trip.”
Georgie shakes her head slightly and walks on. Her footsteps pad up the staircase. A moment later, a door slams shut.
“I promise,” I say.
Dad smiles, and pride swells within me.
Still good. Still pure. Still untainted.