Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Are you going again today? I need photos of movement — whatever that means.” She raises her eyebrows and takes a bite of pizza. “You always look so pretty when you ride, so I’m totally going to use you and Phoenix. Which isn’t fair, by the way. The second I step into the barn, I’m a hot mess of sneezes and runny eyes.”
“Okay,” I say, going on autopilot.
“I have my mom’s car today. I can take us right there after school.”
“Uh, Louisa is picking me up today. We, uh, we’re hanging out.”
Erica cocks an eyebrow, looking from me to Josh and back again. I don’t normally hang out with my sister and she knows it. One of Josh’s friends calls him over, and he gets up, leaving me after a quick kiss on the top of my head.
“What’s going on?” Erica asks.
My eyes fall shut for a few seconds. “I’ll tell you after school. And, uh, if you can come with us, I’d, uh, appreciate it.”
“You’re kind of freaking me out.”
“I’m fine,” I lie again. “Or I will be. Just…just meet me at my locker after school?”
“Of course.”
I dread the rest of the day and I can’t wait to get out of the building. Erica and I walk out, finding Louisa in the back of the parking lot. My sister doesn’t say anything as we get in the car, and it’s not until we’re close to the clinic that I finally bring myself to blurt out the truth: I’m pregnant. Everything from there on out happens in a whirlwind. We go inside. Louisa helps me fill out the forms.
We wait.
And wait.
A girl younger than me comes out crying, followed by an angry-looking woman who has to be her mother.
We keep waiting.
And waiting.
A couple comes out next, both smiling and happy. I hear them talking about baby names now that they know they’re having a boy.
We wait.
And then it’s my turn.
I go in alone at first and answer more questions. The nurse is kind, not judgmental at all. She takes my blood and tells me the doctor will be in soon. My sister and Erica can come in, holding my hand while I get the first ultrasound—which isn’t just a wand moved across my belly.
Tears bite the corners of my eyes as the doctor slowly inserts the wand between my legs. It’s uncomfortable and the gravity of the situation is weighing on me. Erica smooths my hair and I grip Louisa’s hand so tightly she says I’m going to break her fingers.
But then we see it. The tiny little flicker of a heartbeat. The doctor turns a dial, and now we can hear it. I’m almost ten weeks and the baby looks like a gummy bear that someone chewed and spit out.
But it has a heartbeat. And tiny limbs.
And I know right then and there that I have to protect this tiny little life…no matter what.
Chapter Two
JOSIE
PRESENT DAY…
“Shit.” I jerk my hand back from the pan on the oven, shaking it in the air, which does nothing to stop the burning sensation on my fingers. I hadn’t realized the flames were up too high and heated up the pan handle.
“Why are you allowed to swear and I’m not?” Everly slides my coffee cup across the counter and takes a big drink.
“Because you’re fourteen and I’m your mother.” I turn the stovetop burner off, giving up on the gluten-free pancake, and grab a sugary granola bar from the pantry instead. So much for eating healthy, right? “Eat this and hurry up so you don’t miss the bus.”
“I don’t want to go to school,” Everly laments, tossing her thick dark hair back. “Don’t make me go.”
“Please don’t do this.” I get another coffee cup down from the cabinet, knowing I’m not going to get mine back. Everly drinks almost as much coffee as I do. “Not today.”
“Fine. I’ll reschedule my rebellion for tomorrow.”
“As long as I have advance notice.” I fill my mug and add just a dash of vanilla-flavored almond milk.
“Deal. I’ll walk out during fourth period.”
“Make it fifth. I’ll have most of my work done by then.”
Everly rolls her eyes and takes another gulp of coffee.
“Eat something,” I press and reach up to touch my hair. I curled it early this morning and sprayed the spirals with nearly half a can of hairspray. My hair is stick straight, not anywhere as thick as my daughter’s and doesn’t hold a curl to save its life. Grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl on the small island counter, I hand it to Everly and hurry into the bathroom to carefully separate my curls and get dressed.
“How do I look?” I ask when I come back into the kitchen and find Everly on her phone—and the banana not even peeled. Plucking the phone from her hands, I give a twirl and shake my head, making my curls swing around my face.