“I don’t know!” She tosses her hand in the air and bolts past me as she paces the living room. “I was doing this vlog—it’s a stupid beauty thing. Wait”—she grips her hair at the temples—“it’s my thing, and it’s not stupid.” She shakes her head at the floor as if she were talking to herself, and I can’t help but note how beautiful she is even in this frazzled state. Her hair is fanned out, her skin glows pink from the mad jaunt over. It’s freezing out, and she’s not even wearing a jacket. It’s only then I note she has a limp plastic bag in her hand. “Anyway”—she comes over and rattles me by the arms—“a missed period led to a box, and now I need you to pee on a stick to prove I’m notpregnant!”
“Whoa! Slow down.” I’ll admit my stomach just did a revolution when she said the P word and the room is starting to spin, but I’m not the one I should be concerned with at the moment. “So, you’re not pregnant?” I hold my breath a moment as her watery eyes look into mine withfright.
“No, of course not.” She does her best to shake me, and my entire bodyexhales.
“Shit.” I rake my fingers through my hair. I swear on all that is holy I will never touch a beer again. “My God, that was a closecall.”
“What are you talking about? Never mind what you’re talking about. I need a favor.” Her eyes skirt the room, frantic, and if I had to guess, her alarm only seems to beescalating.
“Anything. I’m here for you.” My heart riots against my chest, downright alleviated that I won’t be having a baby at this point in my life—her life. “Anything at all.” I’d give Sunday the moon just to make up for what I’ve put herthrough.
“Good.” Her body bucks with a silent laugh. “Because what I’m about to ask is a little out of the norm.” She dips her hand into the bag and comes up with the infamous box that had the comments of her vlog exploding like a grand finale at a Fourth of July spectacular. Her fingers work quickly, and soon she’s holding up a skinny pink stick and my stomach does another far more hostile revolution. “I need you to pee onthis.”
“What?” I shout so loud the walls rattle. “Sunday, I’m pretty sure that’s not how itworks.”
“I know! I just need a negative test result to share with my viewers.” The veins in her neck pop as she strains to convinceme.
And just like that, the lights go out in my world. A dense fog takes over my brain, and I have the urge to drop to my knees and beg her forgiveness, vomit, and weep like a pussy all atonce.
“So you’re”—I glance to the stick between us, unsure of how to phraseit.
“God, no!” She beats me with her free hand. “I just—” Her mouth opens as we stare at the stick together. “I just—I don’t think I can do it.” Her voice softens as her shoulders sag. Sunday never takes her eyes from that slender piece of plastic. “I’ve been late before,” she hiccups. “I mean, notthislate. But I’m pretty sure I just have the flu.” Her voice is hoarse, and suddenly it’s becoming apparent that Sunday has been feeding herself a steady diet of lies and believing them. Or at least she’d like to continue believing what she once felt was a reality. “Seth.” She looks up at me and shakes her head. “This can’t be my life. It’s not who I am. I don’t lose my virginity and get knocked up all on the same night. I mean, Eli—he won’t even acknowledge what happened. My God, I don’t even think he remembers! I wasn’t memorable.” She chokes out a laugh while wiping down tears with the back of her sleeve. A black trail of mascara smears along her cheek and she looks bruised, so I brush the tears away with my own hand, clean her up. The last thing I want is for Sunday to be injured in any way, and here I’ve injured her far more than I could have everimagined.
“Wait.” I shake my head as if demanding I snap out of this stupor. “You said you’ve been late before, right? And you haven’t taken the test? Sunday, you may not be”—I motion to her torso. I can’t even bring myself to say the word. A thin thread of relief washes over me once again. The last thirty seconds feel as if Sunday and I have climbed an emotional Everest and scaled back down again. “I shouldn’t be taking this test, Sunday. You should. Go on, right now if you want. I’ll be right here waiting for you. No matter what it says, you have my full support.” For the next eighteen years if it reads positive. And just like that, I’m right back tosweating.
“No, I don’t have time for something as ridiculous as that. You have to pee on this stick, and I need to upload it for my viewers asap to get those maniacal rumor mongers to knock this shit off. My God,Rushis going to hear about this!” She’s right back to shaking me as her fingernails embed into my flesh, and I can’t blame her. I’d like to shake myself,too.
It takes a second for me to wrap my head around what she’s asking of me. “All right. But you can’t just have me take the test. Anyone can fake it. We need to get another box, and you need to open it in front of yourviewers.”
“Brilliant!” She jumps up as she rakes her nails along my arms. “Then I’ll go into the bathroom an indiscriminate amount of time and come out with the test that reads negative. Oh, thank you so much!” Her arms collapse around me as she pulls me in close for a hard embrace. For the life of me I can’t remember the last time Sunday and I might have hugged it out and sadly, even though I’m certain something of the sort happened that night at the frat house, I can’t quite remember that either. “I can’t thank you enough.” She pulls back, her lashes lined with tears as she works to blink them back. “Grab your keys. We’re going toJepson.”
* * *
And I do.I drive Sunday and me out to the outer reaches of the city, and I’m stunned she trekked all the way out here to purchase the first test. She tells me all about the way she filled her shopping cart to the brim to hide the fact, and the cashier still called her out on it. I’d hate to say it, but she’s probably not the first Briggs’ girl to drive out to the edge of the earth to pick up a pregnancytest.
We head in and Sunday leads us right over to the most frightening section of them all—ironically, the test kits are located just a hop and a skip from the condoms, and the irony isn’t lost on me. It’s something I’m pretty sure I should have manufactured that night. And who knows? In my drunken haze I could have shot three of them across the room like rubber bands. Hell if I know. It’s all still a beautiful blur. I ante up at the register, and we head back to the truck, back to Briggs without a word spilt betweenus.
I park in front of Cutler Tower, and we both stare at the building as if it were amenace.
“So, how do you want to do this?” I ask. “Does Trixieknow?”
“Are you kidding? Telling Trixie is like shouting to my brother with a megaphone. Believe me, if she wasn’t dating my brother, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I’m all out of options, Seth.” She takes up my hand, and I can’t help but curl my lips into a depleted smile. “I’m sorry I’ve treated you so badly over the years. I swear, if I knew you were going to be the one who bailed me out of the biggest pickle of them all, I would have been kissing the soles of your feet long beforenow.”
My stomach clenches. There wouldn’t be a pickle if it weren’t for my—nevermind.
“I’ll do whatever youneed.”
Sunday invites me up, and I enter her dorm, taking in the hint of her perfume as it permeates theair.
“Okay, you go in there and do your thing.” She gives me a firm shove toward the bathroom. “I need to get live and do mine before too much time goes by. I’ll join you in a sec, and whatever you do, don’t make a sound.” She hands me the svelte pink stick and plucks off the cap. “Aim for this.” She touches the felt tip. “Soak it good.” She shrugs a bit. “AndSeth?”
I turn around and take her in like this, worried, her lips quivering, and I hate myself forit.
A devious smile bounces on her lips. “If you’re knocked up, I won’t think too badly ofyou.”
“Very funny.” I head in and stare at the pink stick of defeat in my hands and an idea comes to me. I go ahead and do as I’m told, soaking the shit out of that felt tip and watch as the tiny window slowly morphs into a negative sign. And as ridiculous as it sounds, I’m a tiny bit relieved. The last thing I needed in this mindfuck of a day was to discover I’ve mutated into some biological wonder. I’m sure my dad would love to hear his son is knockedup.
Sunday’s mock enthusiasm floods in from underneath the door as she ratchets up her excitement. Footsteps head over, and there’s a slight bang on the door. I jump before letting herin.
