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  “Can you imagine me with a baby?!”

  “Have you taken a test? Do you know for sure?” I ask.

  “I was too scared to do it alone,” she whimpers. “I brought one over. It’s in my bag.” Emma sniffs. “Will you wait with me?”

  “Of course.” I’m not sure what she means, but of course. For Em, I’d do almost anything.

  We sit a few minutes, holding hands, lost in thoughts. After a while, Emma releases my hand, slides off my bed, and kneels by her bag. She pulls out a white cardboard box and tosses me a folded-up sheet of directions. I read them silently to myself, then shrug.

  “Okay, so basically you have to take the plastic cover off the stick, pee on it, and wait for two minutes.” I take a deep breath and continue. “It’s like in science, there’s a control group and an experimental group. One window will have a line to show it’s working, the control. The other window will only have a line if you’re pregnant, the experiment. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant.” I sound like the commercial.

  Emma nods. “Alright.” She wipes her tears again with the Kleenex. “Alright, let’s do it.”

  Before I answer, Emma is out the door, down the hall, and in the bathroom. I can’t believe Emma might be pregnant. My Emma, who seems like she still needs mothering, could soon be taking care of a teeny, tiny baby. What would she do? What would her parents say? Would she stay in school? Would she and Peter get married? Is she really pregnant? How late is she?

  Fwwooooshh! The toilet flushes.

  Could I be pregnant? Wow! I can’t believe I haven’t even thought of that. Noah and I only slept together once, but I’ve heard stories about that happening. What if it was me down the hall? What would I do? Would I tell Noah? Of course. But what would that do to him and hockey scholarships? A daddy at seventeen! And me . . .

  Emma stands in my doorway, holding a white stick in her hand the size of a toothbrush. I hate myself for worrying about me. She stares at it, like it’s a crystal ball capable of telling the future.

  I walk over and slide the stick from her fingers. I place it on my dresser and sit her back on my bed.

  “It’ll be okay, Em.”

  “I don’t know, Linds.”

  I glance at the red lights on my digital clock. I search for words of comfort. I’d like to tell Emma that God will be with her. I’d like to know He’ll be with me. But will He? When we’ve broken the rules? Doesn’t God punish people who disobey? I swallow a lump in my throat the size of a hockey puck.

  “How late?” I choke.

  “Eight days,” Emma whispers.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. Inside I wonder if I were late, would I tell Emma? I haven’t even told her what I’ve done.

  “Oh, please.” Emma gestures. “You’ve been so wrapped up in Mr. Messyhair that you wouldn’t have heard me anyway.”

  “Ouch!” Can’t she see I’m in love? Can’t she see I have stuff going on too? I scrunch my lips. Doesn’t anybody except Noah see what’s going on with me?

  “It’s true, Linds.” Emma turns to face me. “Every day at lunch, you’re so smitten, it’s sick.”

  “I love him,” I whisper. Now it’s my turn for tears.

  “Get out!” Emma’s eyes expand. “Who said it first?”

  “Noah.” I shrug and smile. I can tell she cares a little.

  “Wow. That’s serious! I guess I’ve been pretty consumed too.” Emma rolls her eyes in that mischievous way she has. “I forgive you for being a selfish friend, if you forgive me for being a selfish friend.”

  “Deal.” I smile and reach out my hand. We shake hands with mock formality and then hug.

  “Em,” I begin, “what will Peter say?”

  Her body shakes in my arms. “Who knows? He never says much of anything.”

  I glance back at my clock. “It’s time.” I give her an extra squeeze. “Do you want to look, or do you want me to?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  On Sunday morning I wake up first. It’s almost noon! Emma and I were up late celebrating the results of her pregnancy test — negative! — over enormous ice-cream sundaes.

  In those minutes of not knowing, I saw Emma’s whole life turn into chaos, like Job’s in the Bible. Then I pictured mine doing the same thing. After all, I could just as easily be pregnant. Sure, Noah and I are in love, which does not appear to be the case for Peter and Emma, but we’ve all had sex, and Noah and I did not use a condom. So, does that make my act any different from hers? Yesterday morning I would have said what Noah and I did was different, but the outcome could be exactly the same. I don’t know anymore.

  I can’t imagine how relieved Emma is. I don’t want to wake her. I’m sure she’s exhausted from carrying around all that anxiety.

  The alluring aroma of sausage fills my nostrils. I give in to daylight and quietly crawl out of my covers. I rub my eyes on the way downstairs.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” Dad beams from the stove.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “I thought you girls would be hungry.” He flips a pancake high in the air, does a spin, and catches the flapjack in his skillet. “Where’s Emma?”

  “Still sleeping. She didn’t know there was a show going on down here.” I smile. It’s nice having Dad home. He really is great, as far as dads go. He’s just gone so much! I miss him.

  “Well, sit down, princess.” He motions toward the stools at the island in front of him. “Because the old pops has prepared a feast.”

  “So I see,” I say, pretend curtsying. “Where are Mom and Kristine?”

  Dad’s face tightens. “Your sister is a no-show. Mom is changing out of her church clothes.” He manages a strained grin. “We missed you this morning. Pastor John had some good stuff.”

  A pang of guilt stabs my heart. I slept right through church. Well, I did have a sleepover. Still. What would God have said to me this morning? Would He have been happy to see me?

  “You could have woken me up,” I mumble.

  “We didn’t have the heart.” Dad places a steaming plate of pancakes and sausage in front of me.

  “Thanks.” I don’t know if I’m thanking him for the food or the reprieve from church.

  The pancakes are sweet and fluffy and melt in my mouth. “Dad, your pancakes are the absolute best!”

  “If they’re the best, then I want some.” Emma plops onto the stool next to me. “G’morning, Mr. Kraus.”

  “Good morning, Emma. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you!” He ladles more batter into his pan. “What’s new?”

  Emma and I look at each other and out of nervousness start giggling. If only he knew! We laugh so hard, we can’t stop.

  Emma stays the day. We give ourselves manicures and bake a double batch of peanut butter bars — something we’ve been doing since fifth grade. Somehow all that gooey peanut butter and sweet dough calms our nerves and makes life simple again. After stuffing our faces with warm goodies and about a half gallon of cold milk, we head to the mall for some therapeutic shopping.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I say as he drops us at the main entrance. “Are you up for a checkers tournament tonight?”

  “Sorry, sweetie. I have to write a report and pack. I’m headed out again tomorrow — St. Louis, this time.”

  Emma’s waiting on the sidewalk. There’s another car behind us.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go on another trip,” I pout.

  He cradles my chin in his hand. “Sweetheart, if Daddy didn’t travel for work, you couldn’t buy all those fabulous clothes. Someone has to pay the Visa bill.” He winks and waves. “Have fun. I’ll pick you up at six. We’ll play checkers when I get back.” He pulls the door shut and drives away.

  I don’t get the chance to tell him that I’d rather have him home than reap the rewards of his fat paycheck. Don’t get me wrong. I love to shop! I take great pleasure in a pair of perfect-fitting jeans. But I miss my daddy! And so does Mom. I know she does. And, Kristine? Well, clearly Kristine mis
sed him somewhere along the way. I don’t know if she does what she does to get his attention or to get attention from someone else since he’s never home. But I know I feel hollow knowing he’s leaving again.

  In the shoe department of Nordstrom Emma asks, “So, what do you think about youth group tonight?” She doesn’t look at me, but keeps her eyes glued to a patent flat she’s holding. I realize if we’re going to make it, we’ll need Dad to take us straight from the mall to church.

  I don’t want to be the one to say we shouldn’t go. I mean we already missed church this morning, but I’m not really in the mood. I’ll go if Emma wants to. I’ll leave it up to her.

  “Whatever,” I say, roaming to the next rounder of shoes.

  “I don’t know.” Emma looks at the price on the bottom of some fringed boots. “I just don’t feel like it’s right to go tonight, with everything going on and stuff.”

  “No big deal.” I nod, secretly relieved. “We’ll go next week.”

  “Yeah, we’ll go next week,” Emma says, biting her lip. “Plus, the boys won’t be back tonight anyway. Who would we flirt with?” She winks.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  What time do you have practice today?” Noah asks as the bell signals the end of lunch.

  “Not until four. There’s something going on in the church gym at our normal time. I have dead time between school and practice. I guess I’ll plow through some homework right after school so I’m not up all night studying.”

  Noah gazes into my eyes with a dreamy look.

  “What’s going on in there?” I ask.

  “I thought you said something about later practice when we were on the phone last night. My practice was this morning, so I’m free and clear.” He nods and leans close. “I’ve just been trying to figure out how to get you alone again.”

  I know my face is as crimson as my Roses are red nail polish. Crowds of students shuffle on their way to class.

  “Can I drive you home after school?”

  “Sure.” I smile, not daring to look at him. I’m not supposed to ride in a car with boys, but Mom will be at work, and that’s the least of my worries! I’ve thought a lot about if we’ll do it again. I mean, I guess once you’ve slept together, you continue to sleep together. And it’s made Noah and me so close. We have this amazing secret that no one knows about. Well, okay, God, You know about it, but You’re not who I want to talk to about all of this. Sorry, I just don’t think You understand what it’s like. And, I do love him. I feel wiggly all over.

  “Do you think anyone will be home?” Noah asks.

  I’m walking toward my locker, and he’s following. “Don’t know.” I shrug, still too embarrassed to look at him.

  “I’ll meet you here, okay?” Noah grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. He’s giving me room to get out of this if I want.

  “Okay.” I squeeze back. “See ya.”

  My last three classes are awful. I can’t concentrate at all. In my head, I play back Noah and I having sex. Meanwhile the youth group lesson about getting burned plays like an overtrack in my mind. Even a picture of Adam and Eve flashes through my brain! I picture Emma’s pregnancy test. I think of that chastity rally. But, I always come back to how soft Noah’s lips are and how gentle his hands feel on my back. He makes me feel beautiful.

  When the last bell rings, I don’t know if I’m relieved or terrified.

  “Hockey season’s winding down for the year, and then we can be together every weekend, Linds.” The windshield wipers creak, brushing fat raindrops off his windshield.

  “Yay!” I smile. “I missed you last weekend. It’s weird when you’re gone.”

  “Just two more weeks. Then I’m yours.” Noah stops at a traffic light, leans over and kisses me, right in the middle of town. I close my eyes and inhale his breath and savor his lips on mine. I want to marry this boy!

  I unlock the front door.

  “Mom!” I call out. “Kristine?”

  Silence. The lights are out in the hallway and kitchen. Noah looks around and tiptoes behind me. I’m not supposed to have boys over when my parents aren’t home, and I suppose this is why.

  “I know Dad’s on another trip and won’t be home until late tomorrow. Looks like we have the house to ourselves.”

  The air is heavy with my words. Noah and I have barely shared a quick kiss since our romantic interlude a week ago.

  “So,” I say to fill the pause.

  “So,” Noah whispers, turning me to him. He leans over, and he’s kissing me and he wraps his arms around my back, and I feel warm all over, and I can barely breathe. I forget where I am and what I’m wearing and that we’re breaking all the rules. Noah’s hands slide under my shirt, and they’re tugging at my bra, and I don’t push him away. He unbuttons my jeans, then his. He walks and guides me, kissing me the whole time, to the family room, where he lowers me onto the couch. He pushes our pants around our ankles and his mouth is on mine and his hands are touching every part of me. I’m hot and dizzy.

  “Lindsey.” Mom’s voice breaks through my dream state, like glass shattering, from somewhere upstairs.

  I push Noah away while rehooking my bra. “Yeah, Mom, I just got home.” I exhale to steady myself and inhale to try to catch more air. “Noah drove me home.” I tug up my jeans. Did my voice crack?

  Noah pulls up his jeans, ruffles his hair, and pushes up the sleeves on his barn jacket, which he’s still wearing. His cheeks look like I’ve rubbed them with blush.

  Mom treads down the stairs, and again I wonder if she knows. Does she know what she’s interrupted? Does she know Noah and I were having sex? Again?

  “I thought you had practice. Hi, Noah.” She looks around the house. “It’s dark down here.”

  Noah shoves his hands in his pockets. “Hi, Mrs. Kraus.”

  “Yeah,” I defend myself. “We don’t practice until four, and it was raining, so Noah gave me a ride. We just got here, and I called for you, you must not have heard me, and we didn’t even get a chance to turn the lights on. It is dark in here when it’s cloudy.” All of this is true, I tell myself.

  “My last appointment canceled today, so I decided to come home early and tackle my closet. I can’t hear anything with my head buried in there.” She looks us up and down as if she’s on to us.

  Mom takes the lead toward the kitchen. “You two need a snack?” She flicks on the fluorescent lights.

  “Sure, Mom.” I say. My voice sounds metallic bouncing off the empty wall.

  “Sounds great, Mrs. Kraus.” Noah’s voice sounds strange too.

  “Help yourselves. I just came down to get a marker to label some of those crates in my closet.” Mom rummages through her desk drawer and disappears back down the hall with a Sharpie. She turns.

  “When’s practice?” she asks.

  “Four.” I answer.

  “I can take you, if you want. Just let me know when you’re ready.” Her voice fades as she climbs the stairs.

  Noah’s eyes are glued on me with the look of a ravenous tiger. “I want you,” he mouths silently.

  I shake my head.

  Mom’s footsteps echo up the stairs and toward her room.

  He leans forward and kisses me again. His lips are hot, and although I ache to be near him, this is going nowhere with Mom just a flight of stairs away. I use all of my inner strength to step back.

  I shake my head. “No fair,” I whisper.

  “Definitely not fair,” he whispers back. His fingers weave through his dark locks. “Saturday,” he says.

  “Saturday?” I ask.

  “Saturday.” He nods. “I have a Friday night game and a day game Saturday, but that leaves Saturday night. Randy and Raven are having a luau. We’ll leave early. If my parents go out, we could stop by my house.” He sounds out of breath. “I need to be with you.”

  Noah is usually so cool and in control. I’m agitated seeing him desperate like this. But I also feel more in love with him. He wants me that much!


  I kiss him quickly on the mouth. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He wraps his arms around me. I close my eyes and bury my face in him.

  “See ya tomorrow.”

  I nod.

  “Bye, Linds.” He bites his lower lip and opens the door.

  “Bye.” I watch him walk down my driveway and exhale. My head and heart are too full. I should sit and sort through all of these emotions. I should pray about it or something, but I can’t. It’s too much. It’s too over the top. I flip open my phone and punch in Raven.

  PLAN 4 WKEND?

  I text.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Saturday afternoon Raven and I went to the home hockey game. We wore Randy’s and Noah’s away jerseys. As Melissa said, “There’s only so much hockey you can stick us with, Lindsey.”

  After the game I scurry to get ready for the luau at the Macks’. I put on a truly obnoxious floral tank top with a pair of my favorite jeans and flip-flops. I slide a grass skirt over my jeans. I find a plastic flower from Mom’s craft cupboard and tuck it behind my right ear. My sunglasses complete the look. “Crazy,” I mumble to myself as I look in the bathroom mirror.

  “What’s the occasion?” Kristine’s mellow voice rolls into the bathroom. “Trick or treat early this year?”

  She looks horrible. Her eyes are pink and squinty. She hasn’t washed her hair in days.

  “Raven’s having a luau.” I slide my sunglasses down my nose and wink. “Want to come?”

  “Not.” Kristine disappears into the cave of her bedroom.

  I twirl in front of the mirror and watch the strands of plasticine grass swoosh out around me.

  “Did Kristine come this way?” Mom sounds exhausted.

  “In her room.” I motion.

  “Thanks.” Mom continues down the hall. She doesn’t even notice I’m dressed like a hula dancer or wearing flip-flops.

  “Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?” my phone sings.

  “Yeah?” I answer.

  “We’re pulling into your driveway.” Emma’s laughing.