A couple weeks later, things had mostly died down. Maria was disappearing to a bathroom twice a day to hurl, minimum. Morning sickness was more like an all-day sickness, and random smells just sent her spiraling. The cafeteria was always rocky territory. One Friday, I watched her carefully as we approached the double doors, propped open for the flood of students.
It was 50/50. Either she would eat everything in sight, or we would be spending lunch period in the handicap stall. But she visibly brightened when the smell of chicken hit us. I had packed a bagged lunch, safe foods for her. But evidently the baby was feeling chicken, and she bee-lined for it like a hound on a scent. I followed dutifully, smiling a little. I eyed the chicken sandwich, warm under the foil, as it was handed to me. I had never been abig fan of cafeteria food. Fuck it; if I didn’t like it, Maria would probably eat it.
Snagging some fresh fruit and a cookie, I found an empty table and sat down. Maria joined me a few minutes later with a bag of apple slices and a piece of cheese. I wasn’t entirely sure where she had gotten the cheese, but I watched as she put the cheese, apples, and an unhealthy amount of honey mustard on her chicken sandwich. What in the actual fuck? Maria caught me watching her and grinned around a mouthful of chicken. Great, now I was going to hurl. Just as I was about to comment on her weird pregnancy taste buds, she looked over my shoulder and her eyes widened.
Turning, I saw Miranda and her boyfriend making their way over to us. Oh, come the fuck on. I thought we were past this. I eyed her as she got closer, and Maria quietly continued devouring her sandwich. Sure enough, Queen Bimbo stopped at our otherwise empty table and sneered at us. The cafeteria slowly grew quiet. Evidently there was a show about to go down. I had neither the tickets nor the script, yet here we were. Rustling sounds made me glance over my shoulder, and I caught Maria unabashedly snatching my sandwich. I watched her for a second, both of us completely ignoring Miranda until her annoyingly twinkle-shine voice shattered my peace of mind.
“Excuse me.”
I turned back to her, “You’re excused.”
She rolled her eyes. “Hilarious. So, Maria, tell me. We’ve all been dying to know—how does it feel being the only knocked-up chick in school?” Her boyfriend snickered, ever the dutiful fan boy.
Maria set her sandwich down, staring at her plate. “Miranda, shut the fuck up,” I snarled.
“No, I mean seriously. Does a guy beating the shit out of you just turn you on that much? I mean, I hate to kink shame, but, honestly. Hey, whose last name is the baby getting?”
I stood and would’ve found myself nose to nose with the bitch, but some guy got between us.
No. Not some guy.
Diego.
“Get your fucking girl, Austin, or I am going to lay you out on this floor.” I hadn’t quite noticed how tall Diego was, but he seemed even bigger when pissed. The dude towered over Miranda’s boyfriend, who seemed a bit stupefied at first, but evidently he wasn’t the brightest bulb.
“Who the fuck you talking to, Gonzalez?”
Diego stepped forward, the two boys chest to chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Maria slowly pick her sandwich back up. Just when I thought they were about to start a fist fight in the middle of the cafeteria, another voice entered the fray.
“You really need to sit down, dude.” I glanced to my left and found Dalton there, his words were a-not-so carefully-veiled threat. His usually bright blue eyes were dark, like a sky that had been clear only moments before. Rodney, another guy on the football team, was there too, and right behind them? Jackson. It was Jackson who stepped forward, wedging himself between Diego and Austin.
“Take your girl and fuck off. Or I swear to God, I will get you kicked you off the damn team.”
“Austin!” Miranda pulled on her boyfriend, who jerked his arm from her grip.
“Shut up, Miranda. Let’s go.”
I made a shoo gesture, and Miranda’s lip curled in a snarl. But she followed Austin out of the cafeteria and the tension seemed to leave the room with them. I turned back to Maria, who was finishing her sandwich. Diego glared at the door, and,after a minute, he took a seat next to her. She blinked at him and then looked up at me. I shrugged. And then watched, mystified, as Jackson and the rest of them sat down too. Um, ok?
“So, what? You’re Pregnancy Secret Service now?” Jackson ignored me, stealing the orange from my tray. I frowned at him and looked around the table. “Hello? Anyone? I had that handled.”
Diego was whispering to Maria who was still watching him carefully, and Jackson tossed the peel to the side before looking up at me.
“Sure you did, Malibu.”
“Malibu?!”
“Yeah, it’s better than princess, don’t ya think?”
I glared at him and Dalton snickered, so I glared at him too. Maria giggled. Great. Just great. Was this my life now? I glanced again at Diego and the look on his face as he watched my bestie? Yeah. That right there told me he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I glanced over at Jackson and found him watching me. I raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head before dragging a hand through his hair. When he looked back at me and then away again, I swear I felt my eye start to twitch. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Maria glancing back and forth between the two of us. Yeah, this wasn’t weird at all.
Our table sat in a tense silence until the bell rang. The boys walked with us to the door where we gathered in a group, totally blocking the flow of traffic. Diego was still watching Maria carefully, and she casually edged behind me until she was almost shielded from his view. I frowned at Diego in warning—one he may not have noticed but his friends did. Jackson frowned back, and Rodney nudged Diego who seemed to visibly shake himself. Dalton grinned like this entire thing was just a soap opera he was lucky enough to be privy to.
“Well, this has been an absolute blast. Really. But I am pretty sure if I keep missing class, Coach is going to hang me from the goalpost. And then let Jackson here use me for target practice.”
Diego snorted. “Oh, well, you would be fine then. Jackson can’t punt for shit.”
Jackson glared at the two of them, “Bullshit. My punt is just fine. Waldo here couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.” He jerked his thumb at Dalton who feigned insult. Maria poked her head out from behind me, and I glanced down at her.
