Excerpt: Untitled

The morning air in my room was frigid and a sure sign that it would be a miserable day. Then again, most days were pretty miserable for me lately. With sleep still in my eyes, I managed to drag myself out of bed, quickly strip down and change into the dirty clothes that lay on my floor. No one would notice or even care if I wore the same old jeans and sweatshirt every day. The people in my life paid little attention to me these days.

I made my way to the bathroom, something I did a lot of lately, and was glad to see it empty. I passed my brother’s room on my way downstairs; shut and quiet inside. I smelled my dad’s coffee brewing so I knew he was up. I hoped he had already left for school though. I just wasn’t in the mood for talking. It was more like pretend talking anyways. What was the point? When I reached the kitchen I saw he was still there and I felt my stomach turn. I couldn’t hide from him now, too late.

“Hey Dad,” I said quietly as I opened the fridge for some orange juice.
“Morning,” he answered. “Have a good day,” he said as he walked towards the front door, coffee in hand.
“Yeah, you too,” I called.
“Oh, and Em? Happy birthday.” And he was gone.

If I felt sick before it was nothing to the wave of nausea that hit me in that moment. How could I have forgotten? Today was my 17th birthday and I had forgotten it. I had been so wrapped up in my fat, tired, pregnant self, that I had forgotten the day’s date. I was right about the day going bad. It had just gotten worse.

I dumped my oj down the drain, threw on the old winter coat my mother bought me at the thrift shop, and grabbed my backpack. Walking out the door alone, I quickly zipped my jacket to my chin and shoved my hands into my coat pockets. From here on out I would wear my personal armor. I wouldn’t let anyone in to my little world. It was hell in here and I couldn’t bear the idea of letting anyone else feel the pain. Especially Bradley. The walk to school was short, only 2 blocks, but the wind whipped across my cheeks. I could feel them burning in the cold and it reminded me that I was still alive. A reminder that my brother was gone and it was my fault.
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No one could protect me from myself or my memories. The guilt I bore was mine alone. I was personally responsible for Adam’s death and I saw no hope of ever making things right in my family again.

It’s funny how you can be so much a part of other people’s conversations and yet not be seen by them at all. Walking into school was that way for me. I knew that some of those people had talked about me just the night before over long texts and IM chats, trying to figure out how I could go about my life as if nothing had changed. Others whispered to each other as I walked by, like my ears no longer worked and I couldn’t hear what they said. In some ways I was what everyone saw and in others, I was nearly invisible. People moved to the side as I walked by. I don’t know if it was to give me room, because I certainly needed it at this point. Or if it was to stay as far away from me as possible. As if by brushing my arm the girls would all become pregnant teens and a curse would fall upon their families. I was alone.

The toughest part of my day was yet to come. There were two moments I dreaded more than any other, going to my locker first thing in the morning and finding a seat at lunch. My locker was hard because Bradley’s locker was only down the row from mine. Five lockers away to be exact. And seeing him was torture for me. Seeing his smile and knowing it wasn’t for me was the most painful thing of all. Hearing him talk to everyone around him and not a word of it was for me? My personal hell. Knowing that I would never feel his arms around my waist again? Almost too much to bear. Bradley was my first love, the father of my baby, and the cause of my twin brother’s death. How would I get through this without him?

As I approached my locker I saw him. No one else was around as the bell had just rung and most people had scrambled to make it to homeroom on time. He was digging around the bottom of his locker for something and his back was to me. “Probably on purpose,” I thought to myself. His shoulders were square and his waist narrow. The green t-shirt he wore was stretched tight across his back. His hair was still a little damp and I swore I could smell the shampoo from where I stood. He was gorgeous and I missed him terribly. My heart thumped loudly in my throat at the thought of his realizing I was there. Would he turn around to see me? Would he say hello? Or would he
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completely ignore me as he had for the last three months? The hallway was silent now except for the sound of my locker opening. As I unzipped my jacket I saw him turn his eyes my way for just a second. I looked at him in hopes that he would smile, but I saw him look at my belly and quickly turn away. His locker was quietly shut and he was gone. I watched him walk away from me, as he had done so many times since the accident, until he turned the corner to his homeroom.

The question now was what I should do. If I went to my homeroom I would have to go in alone, late, and have everyone, including Mr. Overstreet, give me the once over. That was humiliating. If I didn’t go to homeroom, I would be counted absent and the office would call my parents. I had already missed too many days of school to miss any more before the baby came. I had to be present for the remainder or I would be forced either to attend summer school or to fail eleventh grade. I couldn’t stand the thought of doing either. So, walking in to homeroom was my only option.