“Mina! What’s going on?”
I hurried up to the porch and grabbed his hand, pulling him down with me as I slumped onto the steps. He settled beside me, and I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his warm, familiar chest.
“I just . . .” I started, my voice faltering. I could feel the tears spilling out, soaking into his T-shirt. “I just had a long night at work.”
“Meen,” he said, pulling back to face me. “You’re crying. What happened?”
For one crazy irrational second I wanted to tell him. Iris’s name almost rolled off my lips. But I bit down and shook my head. Nate was too logical for this, too sure about the world around him—a world that could never include someone like Iris. She would just be a demented old lady to him, nothing more, and I would be demented, too, for letting her get to me. It was easier—safer—to say nothing. “The last day of junior year,” I said, seizing whatever excuse I could think of fast enough. “I was lonely at work tonight, and it just made me think about this time next year. Everything will be so different.”
“Oh, Mina,” he said, his concerned frown lifting into a big little-boy smile, the same smile that still made my cheeks flush and my heart race after nearly two years of being together. Nate’s face was strong and angled, “classically handsome,” as my mom had always said. But his smile was goofy; it didn’t quite match up with the rest of him. His smile made him softer. It made him mine. “Everything will not be so different. You’ll have Izzy and Hannah no matter what. And you’ll have me. Always. You and me, we’re not meant to be in Green Hill forever.” He squeezed me tighter and rested his chin on top of my head. “This is just the beginning, so no more tears.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded against him. I was being ridiculous.
My life was on track. I was going places.
We were going places.
And no strange old lady would have the power to change that.
• • •
That night I dreamed in bursts of light and explosions of colors like magical fireworks that would put even Disneyworld’s most spectacular displays to complete shame. And when I woke up the next morning, Iris somehow felt like more of a dream than those colors, those brilliant colors that I could still see every time I closed my eyes.
the first trimester
“Mina, wake up,” Nate called out, splashing me from the edge of his round, stone-lined pool. “You look like you’re burning, and I have to head out soon for DC, anyway. I’m meeting the rest of the debate team at the high school in an hour.”
The cool water dripped down my hot, sticky arms, pulling me out of the hazy almost sleep I’d been slipping into. I peered up at him from behind my dark sunglasses. My eyelids felt so heavy, though, too heavy to hold up as the blazing August sun beat down on me.
“Can’t I just lie here a little longer?” I asked, my eyes already closed again as I let my tube drift farther away from him. “You can go finish getting ready and come to get me when you have to leave.”
“Are you okay, Mina? Seriously, it seems like you’re tired all the time lately. Maybe you should see a doctor or something.”
The massive, cloying knot that had been building in my stomach for the past few weeks tightened. “I’m fine,” I said quickly, turning to hide my face.
“Are you still upset that I’m going to be away tomorrow for our anniversary?” Nate asked, and my whole body tensed at the edge of frustration in his tone. “I’ve told you already, Meen, I’m sorry that the schedule worked out this way. I really am. We’ll celebrate as soon as I’m back on Monday. Trust me, I’d rather be with you than stuck in a conference room with a bunch of strangers in suits, but I promised the team. I can’t let them down. You have to understand that.”
But you can let me down, I thought, instantly glad that I hadn’t said the words out loud. Nate was right. I had been pouting, and it wasn’t fair to him. He’d be back in a few days, and we’d celebrate then. It was just a date on the calendar, and we had plenty of more monumental anniversaries ahead of us. Two years was nothing, really, not when we had the rest of our lives to celebrate milestones.
“I’m not mad. I promise, Nate. Just tired from the sun. Give me five minutes, okay? I’ll meet you inside and help you with the rest of your packing.”
“Okay,” he said, “five more minutes. But then I want to hang out for a little before I have to leave.” I could tell from his voice that he wasn’t convinced everything was fine. I kept my eyes closed, but I felt him watching me, lingering by the edge for a few more seconds before he started off for the house.
I had been tired lately—every day, really, for the last month or two. More than tired, I was completely exhausted, drained of all life, no matter how many hours of sleep I got each night or how many cups of coffee I chugged each day. At first I hadn’t tried to hide it from anyone, but the longer it went on, and the more that other . . . symptoms started cropping up, the more I’d been keeping most of my observations to myself. My lower back ached for no reason, I’d suddenly been peeing more than I ever had in my entire life, and my boobs were weirdly sore and sensitive. At first I’d been happy about that last one—I was convinced that I was finally going through a much-hoped-for growth spurt. But then I realized that my hormones must have been seriously out of whack because I hadn’t gotten my period in two months either, and I was usually always regular to the day.
And now, most recently, the nausea. Every morning, like clockwork. I kept the water running, either the shower or the sink, so that my parents or Gracie wouldn’t overhear and ask any questions, but the charade was just as exhausting as the actual puking. I’d tried doing some online research, but that only made everything infinitely scarier: diabetes; chronic fatigue syndrome; multiple forms of highly rare, highly untreatable cancers; depression. Nothing fit, not really, but I was still terrified. I wasn’t ready to talk about any of it yet, not with Nate, not even with Hannah or Izzy, my two best, closest friends in the universe. To put everything into words out loud for anybody else to hear made it feel too serious, too significant. Too real.
But if Nate was starting to pick up on something, maybe I wasn’t as good at hiding everything as I’d hoped. Or maybe Nate just knew me too well.
I was heading to Hannah’s house after Nate’s for a much-needed sleepover with her and Iz. Maybe it was time to talk about some of this with them. Or . . . no, maybe later would be better. I’d know when the time came, if it came. If it didn’t all blow over first.
I sucked in air and slid down through the tube into the icy, tingling water, letting my whole body feel numb and weightless for a few seconds before paddling toward the stairs. I wrapped my towel around me and started slowly up the cobbled walk, trying to make my face look relaxed, carefree.
I was suddenly glad that Nate would be away for the weekend, off to DC with the school debate team for some prestigious national competition, even if it was our anniversary. I had no doubt he’d come home in a few days with a heaping pile of awards. Because that was Nate, always off achieving and succeeding and making his mark on the world. I mostly loved him for it, though a tiny part of me had always resented it, too, even if I had to keep that part to myself. My boyfriend’s just too ambitious and dedicated didn’t seem valid, not when other girls were complaining that their boyfriends smoked too much pot or only cared about video games and beer and baseball. But I still couldn’t help wondering sometimes if he cared about his ten—or was it eleven? I’d lost count—extracurricular activities more than he cared about me.