Little Peach by Peggy Kern

too long to get ready.
    But not today. Today, I could tell, she didn’t want to go.
    Tonight at the hotel, I take my pill and wait for the warmth, but it doesn’t come. I knock on the door of Room 5. Kat’s in front of the mirror, taking deepbreaths, her hand on her stomach. She’s not wearing lipstick, and her eyelids are bare.
    She’s shivering a little.
    “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you sick?”
    Kat shakes her head, takes a big sip of water. “I’m fine. What do you want?”
    “The pill’s not working.”
    “What?”
    “The pill. It’s not working.”
    She frowns, fishes in her bag, and hands me the entire bottle of pills. “Keep ’em.”
    Something’s wrong with her, but I don’t know what. I stand there, waiting for her to tell me, but she doesn’t say anything, just stares at herself in the long mirror, but she doesn’t fuss with her hair or fix her makeup. She looks different. Like a regular girl who just got home from school.
    I swallow another half, then I feel it. “Thanks,” I say, and float to the door.
    “You gonna need more and more,” she says. Then she turns back to the mirror, her hand drifting to her stomach. She stands up straight, her sharp shoulders jutting out proudly.
    “Not me, though. I’m done with all that.”
    That morning when we get home, Kat showers and climbs into Devon’s lap. She strokes his face and smiles at him with eyes as soft as pillows, presses closed lips to his mouth, once, twice, again.
    “What’s up with you, girl?” he asks.
    “Nothin’. I’m just happy. That’s what you want, right?”
    Devon looks at her, searches her face with his eyes. He sees it, too, the something different. “Yeah. Of course.”
    “Then tell me something good.”
    “You my girl,” he answers.
    “That’s right,” she answers, kissing him again. “Always.”
    Kat says, “Teach me how to cook chicken cutlets.”
    I show her. Dip them in eggs, then bread crumbs. Put them in a pan with butter. Don’t leave them too long or they get dry. Dump the extra eggs down the drain. We can always buy more.
    Her hands tremble. Her lips look dry. She groans a little and touches her forehead.
    “What’s wrong?” I ask.
    “Nothing. Show me again.”
    “Are you sick? Maybe you need medicine. A pill.”
    “I’m fine,” she snaps. “Just show me again.”
    And so I do.
    Dip them in eggs. Then bread crumbs. Put them in a pan with butter.
    Kat and Daddy close the door to their bedroom.
    Something’s going on.
    I wake up Baby, pull the towel back to let the light in. I make us French toast with cinnamon. Baby lies on the couch and rubs her eyes.
    Then Kat emerges with a grin I’ve never seen on her before. She smiles big, her face all bright. She looks older—but somehow younger too.
    “I’m pregnant. Me and Daddy, we gonna have a baby.”
    Butter hisses in the pan. I drop the spatula. “For real?”
    A baby.
    “Yeah. I took, like, five tests.”
    “But . . . how?” I ask. “I mean, don’t you have thatthing inside you? Queen Bee said we couldn’t—”
    “Guess it was meant to be,” Kat cuts me off.
    I go to her. I want to hug her, but I don’t know if she’ll let me.
    A baby. In our apartment. Tiny and clean and soft. We’d be like a real family then. I put my hand on her shoulder and smile.
    “You’re gonna be a mama.”
    Kat’s face opens like a flower. “Yeah,” she laughs. “Yeah. I didn’t really think of it like that, but yeah. I am. You gonna help, right?”
    I flush with pride. “You know it,” I answer. “I’ll cook for all of us.” Kat puts her arm around my shoulders. Looks right at my face.
    “You will, won’t you?” she says. “You kinda crazy, Peach. You got something good inside you.”
    Kat’s never hugged me before. She pulls me toward her for a second, holds me there with her shaky hands.
    “Queen Bee’s on her way. Boost’ll take you girls to work tonight. Daddy’s gonna stay here with me, to make sure everything all