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CHAPTER 1
Isabella
My pulse thrums in my ears. The smiley face on the test seems like an aggressive choice. Maybe I don’t want to smile about becoming a teen mom.
“Is that?” Jules sighs from the bedroom doorway. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
“Just some guy I met.” A complete lie, but I’m not about to tell Jules that the father is my brother’s best friend, the Prom King, and captain of the Football team. She’d laugh in my face. Honestly, I can’t quite believe it myself. That night doesn’t even seem real. No more real than this test in my hands.
Nathan Sterling is the first boy - the only boy - I’ve ever been with. I’m not naive. I’ve taken sex ed… all it takes is once, etc, but really what are the odds?
What am I going to do?
“It’s going to be okay,” says Jules after a long silence, because that’s just what you’re supposed to say.
But, I’m sitting here, numb, holding the evidence that nothing is going to be okay.
Jules pokes her head into the hall and then closes my bedroom door, just in case my parents or brother come looking for me. “Are you going to keep it? Because you don’t have to...” She trails off and comes to sit beside me on the bed.
I can’t explain the feeling that comes over me… it’s like a hand clenching around my heart. My parents are wonderful people, but they are traditional with a capital T. I had a cousin a few years ago who got pregnant out of wedlock, and let’s just say her name no longer comes up on the Christmas card list. Imagine how they’ll react to their own daughter.
I don’t know anything right now. I don’t know where I’ll live, or what I’ll do for money… but I know I won’t be alone. I’ll have my baby. A reminder that that night was real, that Nathan Sterling wanted me, once, however briefly. I’d been loved.
Jules nods, understanding my answer without words. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Seven years later….
"Get a Grip on Greatness!”
“Don't Screw Around – Nail Every Project with Andersen Tools!”
I grin as I type out the final touches on the post:
“#ToolsOfTheTrade #PunsAndProjects”
I start to type, “Don’t get screwed,” but then inspiration strikes. “#SAWthatcoming!” There. I slump back in my chair. Good enough for a company that mass produces cheap tools. Just as I hit schedule,my phone rings. A familiar name pops up on the screen: St. Francis Elementary School.
A rock sinks in my stomach. Any time that name pops up on my phone, it’s inevitably followed by bad news. Clearing my throat to sound as professional as I can, I answer, "Rossi Marketing, Isabella speaking… yes, I understand, Sister Agatha. I'll be right there."
Sister Agatha hangs up on me, rather abruptly, but everything she does is abrupt so it’s on brand for her. I scramble to pack my things. There’s no reason to rush. Rushing won’t get me across town any faster, but that doesn’t slow me down. I shove my laptop in my bag and step into the heels I’d kicked off the second I got to my office. When I wrench open the door, I nearly crash into Jules.
Thankfully, Julia Richmond has known me long enough to anticipate that I might come barreling out of my door at any moment, and is adept in the art of dodging my frantic self. Her long legs also make it possible for her to move longer distances with one step. Seriously, she’d make a great tight end. She swerves, graceful as an ice skater. “You have a call on hold.”
I throw an apologetic glance over my shoulder as I rush past her. “You’re going to have to take it. Aurora is in the principal's office… again.” I throw a pained grimace over my shoulder.
With a put-upon sigh, Jules says, “Fine, but you owe me. Margs… AND table side guac, on you.”
“Love you!” I sprint across our small office space as fast as my heels will carry me, which isn’t all that fast. No one has ever accused me of being graceful, but at 5’2’’, I can use all the help I can get.
Forty minutes later, I stumble into the principal's office at St. Francis Elementary, Rory is sitting at the desk, her head bowed, soccer cleats kicking the carpet. Sister Agatha, in a black habit that has to be hot in this Dallas humidity, looks on from the other side of the desk.
The air in the office is tense, and Sister Agatha zeroes in on me before I've even cleared the doorway. She steeples her hands beneath her chin. “Ms. Rossi, have a seat."
I cautiously sit in the chair beside my daughter's. "I got here as fast as I could. Traffic was…” I glance sideways at my daughter. Rory shoots me a glance as well, her dark eyes have a trace of sardonic humor that no seven-year-old should be capable of.
Sister Agatha could apparently care less how the traffic was. She purses her lips and says, “You can probably guess why you're here, given this is not Aurora's first indiscretion. During soccer practice today, she shoved another girl and stormed off the field."
Some strange combo of a wince and a frown makes its way across my face. “I'm very sorry for my daughter's behavior. Is the other girl okay?”
