Page 89 of The Sun
“Going to a Christmas party?” She popped her gum.
The toilet tissue toppled over on top of the test when she grabbed the cookies. The register beeped when she passed them over the scanner.
“No. No party,” I said.
“Well, hey Sunny.”
No!I closed my eyes and pretended that was not Miss Weaver’s voice I heard behind me.
“You getting ready for Christmas?”
That was totally Miss Weaver. The cashier picked up the toilet paper, and I had to distract my language arts teacher from what was now alone on the conveyer belt, so I spun around with a forced smile plastered to my face,
“Hi, Miss Weaver. You look amazing! I like that snowman sweater. It’s very festive.” Sweat pricked over my forehead. “Like super, incredibly festive!” I giggled—like a nervous, little schoolgirl.
“Oh.” She glanced down and thumped the silver bell hanging from the snowman’s neck. “I’m going to a faculty Christmas party.”
Beep.There went the tissues. The bag rustled when Krystal dropped them in.
“Cool.” I nodded so hard I could have given myself a concussion. “So, um do all the teacher’s go to that? You know, the faculty party?”
Her brows furrowed. I couldn’t have been acting guiltier if I tried, so I shouldn’t have been shocked when her gaze strayed behind me.
Beep.
Her eyes widened, and I knew she’d seen it. My cheeks heated, my neck, my ears.
“Total’s gonna be fifteen-sixty-seven, hun.” By the time the cashier had bagged that test, my entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames.
Krystal popped her gum again. I crammed a wadded-up twenty bucks I’d earned from making Honor Roll into her hand and snatched up the bag. I was already past register four before I heard her shout that I’d left my change.
“It’s yours. Merry Christmas!”
A freezing drizzle filtered through the air, and I swore under my breath at Daisy for parking at the end of the lot. My fingers were frozen by the time I passed behind the cloud of exhaust puffing from her tailpipes. I slung open the door, threw the bag into the floorboard, and sank into the seat. The heater stung my already heated face.
“Well,” I said. “Miss Weaver saw me and your test.”
Daisy pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. What else are friends for? If Momma asks, I’ll say I bought it for Jenny.”
I thought that may make Daisy laugh, but her head was still against the wheel, her shoulders jumping—and not from laughing. Damn, she was crying, and while I understood, I couldn’t imagine what she was going through.
Staring through the fogged windshield, I rubbed her back. “It’s okay,” I said even though it wasn’t.
It wasn’t even close to okay, especially if that test came back positive, but sometimes when you know someone can’t take much more, a little white lie doesn’t hurt.
Daisy wiped her face and leaned back against the seat, arms straight and fingers clutching the steering wheel so hard her knuckles washed white. “Yeah. It’ll be okay. I’ll just like, move out or join a nunnery or just not tell them.”
“You have to tell them.”
“Nope. Sweatshirts hide all kinds of things.” She jerked the gearshift into reverse, and we pulled out of the Piggly Wiggly parking lot, driving in silence until we reached the Circle K a few blocks over for her to take the test. Neither one of us wanted to try to explain a used pregnancy test in our trash.
We sat in the car with the headlights reflecting off the white cinder block wall. Daisy fished the test out from the shopping bag.
“Want me to go with you?” I asked
“No.”
