This Is So Not Happening

“Oh.” Ally looked down at her hands.

“Yeah, and then one of us changes the subject, like ‘So did you do the bio homework?’ or ‘Let’s go get burgers!’ and we pretend like nothing’s going on.”

Ally shifted, turning on her bedspread slightly so she could look down at me. “Well … what do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to have a baby,” I said firmly. “But it’s not like I can make her have an abortion. And I don’t even know … I don’t even know if I could live with that. Like when you think about it and it’s not about you, you think, ‘Oh, yeah, just deal with it. Get rid of it or whatever.’” My throat nearly closed over the words “get rid of it.” “But when it’s reality …”

“It’s not that easy,” Ally finished for me.

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t believe we were actually talking about this, but I was also so relieved we were talking about this. I’d been dying to spill it to her, but terrified she’d shut me down. I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted her. “No, it’s not.”

“So … adoption?” Ally said.

“Yeah, but then she actually has to be pregnant. Like, in front of everyone. That’s how she put it, anyway.” I covered my face with my hands and groaned. “There’s no answer.”

“No good one, anyway,” Ally said. She sighed. “You just need to be there for her. Whatever she needs. That’s what I’d want if I were her.”

I couldn’t believe she’d just said that. I couldn’t believe she didn’t just hate us both. We sat there, quietly, for a long time. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say to Chloe, what I actually wanted. I just knew I was so glad, so grateful, to have Ally right then. I slowly reached out and curled my fingers around hers.

“What would you do if it were me?” she asked, her voice practically a whisper. “Do you think you’d feel different about it?”

My breath caught in my throat. I’d marry you was the first thought that popped into my mind. And it was true, I realized suddenly. I would marry her. I would take care of her. I would do whatever it took to protect her. But what was I, insane? I was seventeen. I couldn’t say that out loud. I sat up. Ally and I locked eyes. I could feel the heat coming through her fingers.

“I feel like ice cream,” I said suddenly. “Wa

“Totally,” she said.

And we were out of there like the room was on fire.

ally

About halfway through my soliloquy on Monday afternoon, I finally stopped feeling like I had to pee, and started tuning in to what I was saying. Up until about five minutes before I was called in to audition for the play, I was questioning my sanity. I hadn’t acted since the spring musical in Baltimore my sophomore year, and there were a lot of good actors at Orchard Hill High, vying for only a few good roles. Why even bother?

But then some random chick I’d never met had told me to break a leg, and Corey Hinds from my Spanish class had flashed me a thumbs-up from the wings, and I remembered why I’d decided to do this in the first place. I needed a distraction. I needed to be able to hang out somewhere where people barely knew me and definitely didn’t know Jake. I needed something to do that he had nothing to do with. Faith was the only Crestie in drama club. It didn’t get much safer than here.

So here I was.

Besides, if I had to make a speech at my mother’s wedding, I might as well get used to performing in front of complete strangers again.

I finished my performance and stood there for a moment, the spotlight frying my face as I squinted out at Mrs. Thompson, the houndstooth-clad drama teacher.

“Very good, Ally,” she said. “Thank you. We’ll be posting callbacks tomorrow. Can you send Faith Kirkpatrick in next, please?”

“Sure. Thanks!” I said brightly.

I skipped down the stage steps and into the auditorium, experiencing that particular light-headed high I always get after finishing with something I’d dreaded. When I shoved open the heavy auditorium doors, the hopefuls in the lobby looked up expectantly. Faith was walking a tight circle in the center of the space, her mouth moving in silent recital.

“Faith. You’re up,” I said, hooking a thumb over my shoulder in a dorky way I never would have done if not for the high.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Good, I think. Who knows?”

“Oh, I always know,” Faith said haughtily, flicking her blond ponytail. “Mrs. Thompson only ever smiles if you suck, because she, like, feels bad for you. So did she smile?”

I narrowed my eyes. It had been hard to see her face with the lights blinding my vision. “I don’t think so.”

“Yay! That’s good, then!” She gave me a brief hug before slipping past me.

“Break a—”

She held up a hand. “I don’t need it.”

Then she disappeared inside, letting the door slam behind her. I shook my head at her ego and grabbed my messenger bag off the bench next to the wall.

“Hey! Are you done? Did you nail it?”

A

“It was pretty good, I guess. I’m just psyched it’s over,” I replied.

“Cool. Wa

“Sure.”

Chloe was just walking by as we headed for the door. She paused and shot me a tentative look. “Hey, Ally.”

“Hey,” I replied. “How’re you … I mean … how’s it going?”

A

“Good. I’m … good.” Chloe shrugged. “How’s Jake?”

A

“He’s fine,” I replied, wondering why she was asking. We all saw one another every day in school. Although they’d been avoiding each other in the halls most of the time, I’d noticed. Almost like they thought if they were caught talking to each other, people would know their secret.

“Good. Okay. Well. See ya.” Chloe turned and traipsed outside, slipping on a pair of designer sunglasses. She didn’t look tortured or tired or conflicted, the way Jake kept saying she was. The way that most people would have been in her situation. She just looked like Chloe Appleby. Crestie Queen.

“How can you be so nice to her?” A

“Nice to her? I just asked how she was,” I replied.

“The girl hooked up with your boyfriend!” A

I rolled my eyes. “He wasn’t my boyfriend yet!” I shoved through the door and out into the sunshine, even as my heart tightened into a cold, dry ball.

“Oh please, everyone knew you were in love with him,” A

I scoffed, even though I’d had this suspicion myself. I’d had a lot of suspicions about Chloe’s motives. That’s what happens when you spend half your time obsessing about something. Was she getting back at me for kissing Hammond freshman year? Was she getting back at Hammond? Was she just bored that night? Horny? Or did she—and this was the worst one—like Jake? “Please. That was a million years ago.”

“Yeah, and she just found out about it in June and then suddenly developed the hots for Jake?” A

I frowned. “No.”

“Well it’s an expression because there are no coincidences,” A