Green Hill was my home, but even with all the wide, open spaces, I somehow still felt trapped sometimes.

And this—this was certainly one of those times.

“Izzy, please.” I could hear myself whining, but I was desperate—close to unhinged, really, after everything that had already happened that morning. “There’s no way we’re not going to run into someone we know in there. I guarantee that the whole town will hear before noon that Mina Dietrich was spotted buying a pregnancy test from sweet old Mr. Reed. I can’t. I can’t do it, guys. Can’t we drive to another pharmacy? Please? Somewhere outside of town?”

“Meen, no offense, but you’re totally not in any position to be making demands of me right now,” Izzy said, turning around to give me a pointed look from the driver’s seat. Her brow crinkled, though, and she sighed. “But, as much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point. And it’s not just your reputation at stake. People could think you’re doing it for me or Hannah to cover for us.” She put the key back in the ignition and started the car. “You win. We’ll go to the Walmart in Kauffmanville.” She turned the radio on, loud enough that any conversation was out of the question.

I rested my head against the cool leather interior of the door and tried to relax, closing my eyes against the blur of Main Street outside my window. I didn’t want to see Frankie’s and that front door that Iris had used to walk into my life. We’d be passing Nate’s house in a few minutes, too, another sight I wanted to avoid. Our anniversary, I realized, my stomach instantly churning over the cruel irony of the date. I hadn’t checked my phone yet that morning, and I couldn’t bring myself to look now. How would he react if he knew what I was doing? If he knew that I was crazy enough to think that there was even the smallest fraction of a fraction of a chance that I could be pregnant because of what some random old lady had said to me at Frankie’s a few months ago?

He would break up with me.

The words flashed in my mind, big and bright, before I’d even had the chance to realize I was thinking them. No. He wouldn’t dump me. Not after two years. And regardless, the test would without a doubt—or at least only a very tiny, practically almost negligible, barely worth mentioning doubt—be negative, so I’d never have to tell him that any of this had ever happened. Hannah and Izzy would never tell anyone, even if they did have their doubts about my sanity. And if it came down to it, if I was pregnant—and I wasn’t—but if I was . . .

I refused to finish that sentence.

Instead I forced myself to sing along with the radio for the rest of the car ride, forbidding my brain from saying anything but the lyrics. Someone else’s words felt much safer than my own.

After what seemed like too much time and somehow still not nearly enough, we pulled up to the bright blue Walmart fortress that my dutifully ethical mom had raised me to always avoid. She’d search high and low in every last local, family-owned store in Green Hill or any of the nearby towns before taking a penny of her money anywhere else. She’d certainly never go to Walmart for something she could buy in Reed’s, even if it cost half the price. But, given the circumstances, I’m pretty certain that even she would approve of this exception. At that moment Walmart was my only hope for any kind of salvation, at least in terms of my reputation. And reputation was everything in a place like Green Hill.

I grabbed at the door handle and leaped out onto the pavement before I could be paralyzed by any second-guessing. Izzy walked around to my side of the car, glancing at me for a second before she looked down at the ground and jammed her hands tight into the pockets of her green and gold school basketball sweatshirt. She had lived in that hoodie all of junior year, and had spontaneously cut off the arms a few months ago to make it short-sleeved and summer-proof, a crime of fashion that Hannah and I could never let go of, especially when we were out in public. I wanted to joke about the ridiculous frayed strings dangling around her arms, make her laugh like always, pretend that it was just another typical Saturday morning with the girls. But I couldn’t make my lips push out the words, and I doubted she would have appreciated them much even if I had.

Hannah opened her door and stepped out between us, a few beats behind like always. The three of us stood there for a minute, still and silent, awkwardly unsure of one another. I closed my eyes to take in the moment—the moment of uncertainty that came before. Before whatever it was that would come after. Because in that moment, I could still have all my doubts. And in doubts, there was hope.

I heard Izzy start moving next to me, shuffling toward the entrance, and the moment faded away. The before was disappearing, the after fast approaching.

We walked in silence until we spotted the end of an aisle with a bright pink tampon display, which seemed like a reasonable place to start. I pushed past the basic monthly supplies into more unfamiliar territory—creams and suppositories for yeast infections, douches, deodorizing wipes, anti-itch powders and rinses. I cringed and moved farther along the aisle, deeper into the heart of the feminine mystique, and felt my cheeks turn pink as soon as I saw the rows upon rows of condoms in every shape, size, color, and texture imaginable. I felt nervous just standing there, that close to bottles of lube and warming gels, so entirely out of my element. I turned my head left and right to check both ends of the aisle, just in case someone had followed the three of us in. But no, it was just Izzy and Hannah. There was no one—well, no one but my two best friends—to judge me, and nothing to be nervous about.

But what about security cameras? Was this being filmed? My heart skipped, and I looked up to the ceiling and along the walls and tops of the shelves, but I couldn’t see anything. You’re being ridiculous, Mina. People buy condoms all the time. I’m seventeen, after all. It’s not that crazy of a concept to think I might have sex someday.

Though I seriously doubted I’d even consider sex for years after all this.

I walked a few more steps and stopped when I saw a purple box with the words OVULATION PREDICTOR. I scanned the nearby shelf space. First Response, e.p.t., Clearblue. All words I’d heard in the background on TV commercials or seen in magazine ads, but nothing that had ever been remotely relevant to my life before.

I turned to Hannah and Izzy, both still staring, fascinated, at the rainbow of sex in front of them. I wasn’t the only slightly behind-the-times seventeen-year-old in our little group—Hannah was still a virgin, of course, like me, and though Izzy had given it up last summer to her kind-of boyfriend at the time, a few rapid-fire hookups on the basement couch did not a seasoned expert make.

I coughed to get their attention, and they both snapped out of their dazes.

“So I’m assuming you’re both as clueless about this as I am, but any suggestions?”

Hannah looked up at the boxes, squinting her eyes. “I know my sister was rambling about pink plus signs when she called to tell me the news. So I guess we could start with that? The test worked for her, at least.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” I said, picking up the box that showed a magnified image of two sticks and a clear, irrefutable plus and a minus. It was a two-pack, which was good. The more evidence to prove that everything was normal, the better.

“But maybe you should get another brand, too, just in case?” Hannah suggested. “So you can be one-hundred-percent sure that they show the same result.”

I nodded and grabbed another box that also showed two sticks on the front, but one had the word pregnant, the other not pregnant. Cut-and-dry, I liked that. No reading and rereading the explanation just to make sure I had the signs and meanings right. I glanced at the price stickers on each package. Almost forty dollars. Damn. That was a good chunk of tip money, but it was a small price to pay for my sanity.