Impossible by Nancy Werlin Page B
Authors: Nancy Werlin
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Social Issues, Young Adult, Love & Romance, Pregnancy, Orphans & Foster Homes
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had happened to Lucy on prom night.
But now, with Padraig, somehow it seemed natural that he should ask.
Yet some part of her still struggled. "Oh. It's been difficult, but I can't talk about it. It's Lucy's private business."
"Ah," said Padraig. "I see." He fixed his concerned, sympathetic gaze on Soledad.
Soledad could feel him looking at her. And looking at her. Then she found she couldn't look away from him, and that she didn't want to.
"Talk to me, Soledad," he said. "Confide in me."
"Confide?" Her voice seemed to come from outside herself. She felt fuzzy. Dreamy.
"Yes. Tell me the whole story of what happened with Lucinda on prom night. Tell me exactly how Lucinda is doing now. Tell me everything, Soledad."
Soledad said, "Yes."
CHAPTER 23
At 5:03 a.m. on the Fourth of July, Lucy got out of bed after a tense, sleepless night. She locked herself in the bathroom, leaving an anxious Pierre lying before the threshold on the other side of the door. In her hand, still wrapped in a plastic pharmacy bag, she had a home pregnancy test.
She'd bought the test furtively, three days before, but had needed time to steel herself to use it. Also, she had read the instructions and knew the test was more likely to be accurate if she waited. Hormones built up, and could be more easily registered by the test.
But she had waited long enough. It had been slightly over two weeks since she had had specific reason to believe she might be pregnant, beyond the nausea that had been bothering her for longer than that.
She read the instructions for the sixth time.
Then, hands curiously steady, Lucy performed the test, and it told her what in her bones she already knew. She had been raped five weeks ago by Gray Spencer, who was dead. And now, at seventeen years old, she was pregnant.
With the results in her hand, panic suddenly gripped Lucy. It was not about the pregnancy; it was a more irrational panic, concerning whether Zach would knock on the door of the bathroom. Clumsily she gathered up the box, the instructions, and the test device itself and scurried back to her bedroom, once more shutting out a mournful-eyed Pierre.
She knew this was ridiculous. Concealment would not be possible for very long. It was not even desirable.
She would have to tell. She would need help. Oh, God. She would need help.
Lucy discovered she was pacing. Visiting the test device to look at it. Then up and down the room again. She would wait until seven o'clock, she thought. Then, if Soledad was not already awake, she would wake her.
Then she realized that she could not wait. That she could not be alone between now and seven. That, more than anything in the world, right now, she needed her mother.
Just as she turned to leave her room, Lucy spotted Miranda's diary on her bedside table, where it had been lying undisturbed for many days now. She had not been able to bear reading it again. But simply seeing the diary made her think: Miranda needed Soledad when she was my age too. She needed her the same way I do, and for the exact same reason: She was pregnant, and scared.
How strange and coincidental was that?
CHAPTER 24
A month later, in the middle of an August heat wave that had kept Boston and its suburbs oppressed for days, Lucy was at the park with Sarah Hebert and a dozen little kids. Sarah and Lucy were teaching the kids to braid lanyards out of gimp, while trying to encourage them to keep drinking water in the heat. But the kids—none of whom were any older than nine—had been lethargic and whiney and generally uncooperative all morning. At one point, several of them refused to drink the bottled water and bossy little Rachel Sanderson led them in a chant of "Orange soda! Orange soda!"
When Lucy had, with difficulty, ended this rebellion, Rachel was quiet for only about five minutes. Then she and her sidekick Keri Baldacci started in again, this time mocking one of the younger boys.
"Okay, that's it," muttered Sarah in Lucy's ear.
But now, with Padraig, somehow it seemed natural that he should ask.
Yet some part of her still struggled. "Oh. It's been difficult, but I can't talk about it. It's Lucy's private business."
"Ah," said Padraig. "I see." He fixed his concerned, sympathetic gaze on Soledad.
Soledad could feel him looking at her. And looking at her. Then she found she couldn't look away from him, and that she didn't want to.
"Talk to me, Soledad," he said. "Confide in me."
"Confide?" Her voice seemed to come from outside herself. She felt fuzzy. Dreamy.
"Yes. Tell me the whole story of what happened with Lucinda on prom night. Tell me exactly how Lucinda is doing now. Tell me everything, Soledad."
Soledad said, "Yes."
CHAPTER 23
At 5:03 a.m. on the Fourth of July, Lucy got out of bed after a tense, sleepless night. She locked herself in the bathroom, leaving an anxious Pierre lying before the threshold on the other side of the door. In her hand, still wrapped in a plastic pharmacy bag, she had a home pregnancy test.
She'd bought the test furtively, three days before, but had needed time to steel herself to use it. Also, she had read the instructions and knew the test was more likely to be accurate if she waited. Hormones built up, and could be more easily registered by the test.
But she had waited long enough. It had been slightly over two weeks since she had had specific reason to believe she might be pregnant, beyond the nausea that had been bothering her for longer than that.
She read the instructions for the sixth time.
Then, hands curiously steady, Lucy performed the test, and it told her what in her bones she already knew. She had been raped five weeks ago by Gray Spencer, who was dead. And now, at seventeen years old, she was pregnant.
With the results in her hand, panic suddenly gripped Lucy. It was not about the pregnancy; it was a more irrational panic, concerning whether Zach would knock on the door of the bathroom. Clumsily she gathered up the box, the instructions, and the test device itself and scurried back to her bedroom, once more shutting out a mournful-eyed Pierre.
She knew this was ridiculous. Concealment would not be possible for very long. It was not even desirable.
She would have to tell. She would need help. Oh, God. She would need help.
Lucy discovered she was pacing. Visiting the test device to look at it. Then up and down the room again. She would wait until seven o'clock, she thought. Then, if Soledad was not already awake, she would wake her.
Then she realized that she could not wait. That she could not be alone between now and seven. That, more than anything in the world, right now, she needed her mother.
Just as she turned to leave her room, Lucy spotted Miranda's diary on her bedside table, where it had been lying undisturbed for many days now. She had not been able to bear reading it again. But simply seeing the diary made her think: Miranda needed Soledad when she was my age too. She needed her the same way I do, and for the exact same reason: She was pregnant, and scared.
How strange and coincidental was that?
CHAPTER 24
A month later, in the middle of an August heat wave that had kept Boston and its suburbs oppressed for days, Lucy was at the park with Sarah Hebert and a dozen little kids. Sarah and Lucy were teaching the kids to braid lanyards out of gimp, while trying to encourage them to keep drinking water in the heat. But the kids—none of whom were any older than nine—had been lethargic and whiney and generally uncooperative all morning. At one point, several of them refused to drink the bottled water and bossy little Rachel Sanderson led them in a chant of "Orange soda! Orange soda!"
When Lucy had, with difficulty, ended this rebellion, Rachel was quiet for only about five minutes. Then she and her sidekick Keri Baldacci started in again, this time mocking one of the younger boys.
"Okay, that's it," muttered Sarah in Lucy's ear.
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