The Breakaway(43)

“And you’re sure you don’t want to tell Brody?”

Morgan had nodded again, immediately and vigorously. She and Brody had only had sex twice, and she hadn’t even liked it that much. Two times, for a total of maybe ten minutes, and it hadn’t even felt good! It’ll get better, he’d promised her, except now Brody was off at Fort Benning, with no idea about what was going on. Morgan knew, if she told him what had happened, he’d come rushing home. Maybe he’d go along with her plan, but maybe he’d want to marry her. Her parents would probably want that. And if she didn’t marry Brody, they’d make her have the baby and give it up for adoption. She’d have to go through an entire pregnancy, walking around for months with a big belly and everyone knowing what she’d done. Giving birth. Her mom and dad would be so disappointed. Her dad might even lose his job, because who’d listen to a pastor whose own daughter had disobeyed him?

School would be a nightmare. The girls would all laugh, and some of the boys would think she was a slut; that if she’d slept with one guy she’d be up for doing anything with anyone. That would be bad. Spending the rest of her life knowing that there was a baby, out there in the world—a baby, then a toddler, then a child, a teenager, a person—that would be unendurable. It would be like burning up from the inside, every day, for the rest of her life. It would be more than she could take.

“I can’t tell Brody,” she said to Olivia.

“What about your mom?”

Morgan shook her head even more vehemently. “I can’t.”

Olivia smoothed her polka-dotted bedspread and nodded like she understood, even though Morgan was pretty sure she didn’t. Olivia did not go to Morgan’s church or any church. She talked to her mothers about everything—not just sex, but feelings. Relationships. Even masturbation.

But for Morgan, telling her mother something like this was unthinkable. Lily would be beyond disappointed. It would break her heart.

“You should find someone, then,” Olivia told her. “You can’t just go all by yourself. You need someone to take care of you and make sure you’re safe.”

Morgan had nodded. She’d promised. And she’d consoled herself by thinking that at least she had the big part figured out.

When her dad had gotten the call about the men’s retreat in Arizona, when it had looked, for one heart-stoppingly awful instant like they wouldn’t go on the trip at all, Morgan had been terrified. No, no, we have to go, Morgan had told her mother, begging and pleading and telling her how excited she was about riding the trail and seeing Niagara Falls and spending time with her, until, finally, Lily had agreed. I know it’s a lot of riding, but I’ll help you! Morgan had said. She knew Lily was confused, and maybe angry, that Morgan had barely spent any time with her at all, but the truth was, she was terrified to be around her mom. Scared that she’d give herself away; that her mother would look at her and, somehow, just know; the way she’d known when Morgan was lying about sneaking cookies, or coloring on her dresser with crayons when she’d been little.

Can you keep a secret?

In the park, in New York, Morgan plopped a scoop of macaroni salad on her plate and swallowed hard as her stomach lurched. The noodles looked slimy and disgusting, and even the smell of tuna was making her queasy. Her mother was at a picnic table, with Mrs. Presser and Mrs. Fenske. Abby was over by the sag wagon, talking to Jasper, who was looking at Sebastian’s bike. Andy Presser was sitting under a tree with his brother, devouring the third of four sandwiches he’d piled on his plate.

“Come sit with us!” he called.

She nodded, and walked over to him, trying to look normal, happy, and relaxed. Andy was her best bet. Morgan wondered what he’d think if she told him her secret; if he’d still look at her like she was a fairy-tale princess, Rapunzel in the tower, and he was the prince who would save her. Probably he wouldn’t. And if she told him about her appointment, he’d probably tell his mother, who’d feel obligated to tell Morgan’s mom. Morgan would have to keep her secret. In this fairy tale, the princess would have to save herself.





Abby


Abby had been proud of herself for the way she’d handled Sebastian’s run-in with the angry driver. Calm. Collected. Appropriate. An experienced ride leader, Lizzie herself, couldn’t have done any better. She thought that he’d thank her; take the opportunity to talk with her, or sit with her at lunch. She hadn’t been oblivious to his smiles, his flirty looks. But that morning, he’d seemed tense and distant, and at lunchtime, he’d just filled his plate and gone off with Lincoln.

Abby ended up sitting with her mom and Lily Mackenzie, who cast mournful sideways glances at her daughter and Andy Presser, who’d gone off by themselves. Abby got Lily talking about her book club back home, and how she’d met her husband, and anything she could think of to keep her from looking so sad.

Afterward, there were thirty more miles to pedal before day’s end. Abby rode sweep and then, with a mile left to go, she pedaled hard to get to the front of the group, then waited in the hotel parking lot, watching as the riders arrived, in various states of exhaustion. When Abby had gone to check in, the clerk had handed her a package along with her key card. Mark had sent her a box of John & Kira’s chocolates. Her favorites. She smiled, and popped a truffle in her mouth.