Marvelous mistakes

Warmness takes over my body. Is this the sweet relief of death? Nope, just my friend who has taken over; he is sleeping peacefully, looking up at the stars. His arm is loosely around me; normally, it’s tighter. His chest isn’t moving. “Marcus,” I said.

“Marcus,” I said again.

Shit. Check for a pulse. Nothing. Grab my phone. Dead. I can’t call the cops; I am only 17, and there is alcohol in both our systems. “Dazzy,” I said. Get into his phone. Please answer.

Dazzy: It’s 5 in the morning.

Me: I need help.

Dazzy: Marry, what happened? Are you two okay?

Tears are now flowing; I am next to a corpse.

Me: He has no pulse.

Dazzy: Where are you? Did you call the cops?

Me: No, we were drinking and are in the abandoned ranch looking out to the ocean. I am scared to call the cops; I can’t be arrested.

Dazzy: I will be there in 20. Don’t touch his body at all or the alcohol.

Me: Okay, can you stay on the line, please?

I put my clothes back on.

Dazzy: Yes, I am getting in my car now.

A car door shut. I sit on the hood, waiting for her. I slept with my friend, and the universe killed him. I killed him.

Dazzy: Are you still there?

Me: Yes. “I killed him,” I mumbled.

Dazzy: He had limited time; you didn’t kill him.

Me: I had sex with him and killed him.

Dazzy: Keep it together; I am almost there.

Ten minutes later, her car pulls up.

“Where is he?” she asked. I pointed out back. She looked at him.

“Get in my car.” She grabbed his phone and handed me mine. She was on the phone with someone.

Another round of crying ensued. Another car pulls up. She talked to the man who got out of the car. She signaled for me to come to her. I hesitated but trusted her.

The man looked at me.

“How much did you two drink?” the man asked.

“A six-pack,” I said.

“Not much; I drank way more at her age. I will call this in and take her home. I got this.”

“But we drank, and we’re underage,” I said. The officer got on one knee.

“You are a good kid. I can see it in your eyes; you didn’t vandalize anything. Have a big blowout party. So, I don’t care if you vandalized property; that’s a different story, but you drank responsibly. No harm done; your friend was already sick; he went out the way he wanted,” the man said.

“Still feels like I did it,” I said.

“I got her,” Dazzy said. We go to the car; he makes phone calls.

“Want to see Linda?” she said. I shake my head; I can deal with this on my own.

“I know you have had a hard life, but I am here. We should get to school. It will take an hour to get back. As long as you’re okay,” she said, her voice cracking. I put in my headphones.

She drove, watching the trees. When we got to my apartment, she waited while I got ready. I can tough this out. We go to school: her to the office, me to the sea of people.

During lunch, the principal went on stage. “Excuse me. I know you hormone-filled assholes love food, but I have news about a fellow student.” I put my hoodie up and turned up my music. The principal left, and the only ones who looked a bit affected were the foster kids I grew up with. We looked at each other for a minute, nodded, and went back to eating. Some cried, while others went on with their day. I like those people; I never knew them, so why grieve?

We continued with our day. In my last period, a kid was talking about Marcus, saying that he committed suicide.

“Victoria, do you have anything you want to say to the class?” the teacher asked.

“No. That loser had nobody that cared for him anyway,” the head cheerleader said. She recently had surgery on her knee due to an accident during practice. Her seat is right beside mine.

I kicked her. “She kicked me,” she said to me, tears in her eyes.

“Who did?” the teacher said.

“One of the losers beside me,” she said. “I do my work. I did it. I am sorry. I just let my emotions get out of control,” a girl who gets straight A’s said.

“Both of you, to the principal’s office,” the teacher said. The girl slipped me a note when she walked by. I looked at it and saw: “What you did, that bitch deserved it. You owe me a soda.”

I smiled.

I started to walk home, and the girl from earlier walked beside me.

“She is a bitch; don’t let her bug you. I am Gigi, by the way,” she said.

“Marre,” I said.

“How long have you been walking home?” she asked.

“Since middle school,” I said.

“I am sorry about your friend,” she said.

“You are a watcher,” I said.

“I kinda keep to myself, so yeah,” she said.

“What did you get from the principal?” I asked.

“Nothing; they get them more money with my grades than the stupid cheerleading,” she said.

I chuckled; she seems good, not like the others.

I see my place in the distance; she stopped.

“I know it might be forward and you don’t know me, but can you come over to my house for a meal?” she said. “Why not?” Gigi and I walked a mile to her place.

She opened the door with nine dogs barking. She petted all of them, and I let them sniff me. They backed down.

“Who is there?” a man said.

“Papa, nobody. A girl from school,” Gigi said, as she remained silent and observed. We walked to the kitchen, where two police officers were present—one of them was the one from last night.

“Dazzy’s girl, she’s good,” the officer from last night said.

“What are you investigating?” Gigi asked.

“A murder,” the other officer replied.

“So how long are you staying? Are your parents okay with you being over here?” the other officer asked.

“Yeah, I just have to be home by 10,” I said.

“Okay, I am Liam, by the way,” Liam said.

I uncomfortably sat at the table, ate, and zoned out.

“So, Merry, what do your parents do?” Hank asked.

“They, um...” I had never been asked that before.

“She’s in the Galager project,” Hank said.

“Oh, so what do you like about this school?” Liam asked.

“Okay, I am just trying to get it over with,” I said.

Gigi picked up on some stuff. “You don’t have parents; you are an orphan. I am so sorry about your friend. I saw you with him occasionally,” Gigi said.

“It’s okay. I’m actually doing good. The meal was good; I’ll wash my plate and get out of your hair,” I said.

I washed my plate, used the bathroom, then grabbed my bag; it was heavy. I opened it: food, water, and a letter.

“We are here if you need us,” Hank wrote.

Two months later, I am working my ass off; my boss is pissing people off. “What is this?” The lights got brighter, and the room started spinning. “Boss, I need to sit down,” I said. This flu sucks, but I have no sick days.

“No. You will not leave your post,” he said. I swept and felt my stomach contents come up. I couldn’t see a trash can. I vomited on the floor, and my vision went black. I woke up in my bed, Dazzy sitting on my bed, taking my temperature.

“Why did you let this flu get this bad? Going to work? I will keep you in the program, but one more time, it’s either job or school,” Dazzy said.

“School,” I replied.

Three weeks later...

At the gym, I run the pacer test and find the closest trash can to vomit in. “Anderson,” the coach said beside me, Mr. Hard Ass. Great.

“I don’t care if you pass out; you are finishing,” he said.

I go to the locker room, change, and leave while he keeps yelling at me. I walk out and head to the office. “Nurse, please,” I said. I sit and wait. Mr. Hard Ass stormed in. “Anderson,” he said.

“What makes you think you can leave my class?” he said, nauseous. Again, I threw up in the trash can. The nurse opened the door. “Mr. James, let this girl be. If she is healthy, I’ll let her back in class. Go teach your class,” the nurse said. I went in, and she asked me a question I wasn’t ready for.

“What was your last period?” she asked.

“I... I... I... I... don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track; I have been busy with schoolwork and...” I said. She handed me a pregnancy test.

“The bathroom is over there,” she said. I went to the corner. No, this isn’t happening. I took the test, went back out, and waited. She looked at me, grabbed her laptop, and sat beside me. A timer went off, and I looked at the test. I cried; the father is dead. She closed the door.

“You know who the father is,” she asked.

“Marcus Holloway. The kid who died earlier; he was my friend. He and I did it before he passed, and...” I said. She rubbed my shoulders. I laid my head on her shoulder.

“I know your past, and I am going to call Dazzy,” she said.

“No. Call Gigi’s parents, please. They have been taking care of me a little bit. I want their help on this,” I said.

“Okay. Lay down and rest, okay?” she said, calling them.

I put my hoodie over my head and curled up in a ball.

She sat with me for a bit. The door opened, and I saw Hank and Liam, panicking. “Is something wrong with Gigi?” they asked.

“No. Merre asked me to call you guys; she doesn’t want Dazzy involved in this,” the nurse said. I felt a man sit on the bed.

“Is it related to when Dazzy called me?” Hank said.

“Yes,” I said, handing him the test.

“Okay. How about we talk at our house?” he said. I nodded. My eyes were bloodshot. I stood up, and Liam grabbed my bag. He opened the door, and I saw Mr. James’ hairy legs.

" Anderson. Don’t ever.” He saw the two officers.

" Sorry. I’ll just...” he said.

" Be visited by a friend,” Liam said.

We get to a truck; I get in the back, buckle up, and they drive to their house.

I look blankly at a wall.

" So I assume you know the options,” Hank said. I nodded. I don’t want to abandon my child like my mom and dad did.

" I don’t want to do what my parents did, but I don’t want to be alone,” I said, sipping the tea.

" Ok. We can help. Do you have a doctor for that area?” Liam asked. I shook my head. ” That would be the first thing, and we have the funds to...” Hank said.

" No. I want to pay for this child myself. I can do an online job,” I said.

" Ok, so far so good. Are you in a one or two?” Hank asked.

" Two-bedroom; it’s a small bedroom,” I said.

" You will have to tell Dazzy,” Liam said.

" I know,” I said. The door burst open. Gigi, worried, hugged me.

“What happened? The school was talking about how you left Mr. Strict Ass’s class,” she said.

“I wasn’t feeling well, so I left and went to the nurse, knowing he wouldn’t let me,” I said.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes, I just needed help figuring stuff out,” I said.

“Thank God. You are a badass,” she said. I can’t control my tears.

“I am so sorry. I can’t control it today,” I said.

“So what’s wrong? Flu?” she asked.

“No, I am pregnant,” I said.

“You know what you’re going to do?” she asked. I nodded. I will be a better mother than my mother. We watched movies all day. Her parents ordered in, and I relaxed. I leave at 8, go home, look up OBGYNs, school programs, and talk to my principal about what happened. Everything is set except for a job. I post my ad online, start a bath, put on music, and rub my small bump. “You and me are going to do this,” I said.