Chapter 3

As Lana walked down the hall with her friend Cadence, she began to hear catcalls and rolled her eyes as she passed a small group of football players.
“I can’t even believe you don’t jump on that,” Cadence whispered to Lana. “Do you realize those are Seniors? Senior boys, hitting on you!”
Lana walked to her locker and began to turn the combination, Cadence right beside her.
“Honestly? Cadence, we’re in high school now, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lowered my standards. Those boys are jerks and womanizers.”
“So?” Cadence said, watching as Lana clicked her lock open and began to rummage through her locker. “Think of how hot--I mean, hey Neil, how are you?”
Lana looked up to see Neil Cameron, a senior football player, towering over her and her locker. His deep blue eyes stared straight down at her own dark brown ones. Clearly, he was trying to impress her with eye contact.
“Hi Neil, can I help you?”
“I believe you can, pretty lady.”
Lana was not impressed, but when he did not continue she said “What can I help you with?”
“How about going to winter formal with me?” He responded, the exact same look on his face remained; a steady half smile with a slightly raised eyebrow. Lana felt like she might be sick.
“That’s a nice offer, Neil, but I don’t think I want to go with anyone. Maybe a friend, but I’m just really not interested in becoming involved with anyone. You know?”
“Nope,” He said. “You can’t refuse me.”
Reaching out, he put his hand around her waist and pulled her close to him. She quickly pulled herself away and said in a very stern voice. “No, Neil, no means no, didn‘t your mother ever teach you that?”
Lana could see Cadence in her peripheral vision putting her face to her hands in anguish while a few people passing by laughed. On the other hand, Lana was furious. Apparently, so was Neil. He stomped off in an awkward rage and Lana couldn’t help but smile to herself.
“What did you do?” Cadence moaned, clearly distraught.
Lana rolled her eyes. “It’s called rejection. Let’s hope it damaged his ego, though I seriously doubt it.”
With that she clicked her locker shut and began to walk to her next class.

* * * * *

Tia eyed the isles of the store. She had never done it before; skipped a class. Yet it was the only way she would be able to come here, to the store, to get what she needed. She wasn’t often allowed to go to places by herself, usually someone had to accompany her unless it was school related. This was not school related at all. She made a silent prayer for God to forgive her for skipping class. It was something she needed to do. Something she had to find out.
Walking down the isles, she came to the pharmacy section around the places that there were condoms and hygiene products. She looked up at the pregnancy tests, and carefully picked out the cheapest one. Attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible, she made her way over to the self-check outs and quickly paid the machine and took her receipt.
She felt like everyone was watching her. She felt as if at any moment someone she knew would shout out her name and ask what she was doing there. As if someone would see what she was holding and angrily accuse her of the sins that came along with what she was carrying. It was sinful to have sex before marriage. It was even more sinful to be pregnant before marriage. She felt like the ultimate sinner.
Yet it wasn’t her fault. Or was it? She had never consented in the matter. Not even when she was ten years old when it started happening. She didn’t want him to do what he did to her. But she could barely hold the concept in her mind, that something would be his fault. If she tried to tell her parents she was sure that they would not believe her and think that she had been having sex with someone else; that she was making up excuses; that she had sinned.
And had she sinned? Could she have pushed him away? Should she push him away? Yet he was so violent and controlling. He made everything seem like her fault and she very much felt that it was. It wasn’t until recently that she began thinking that it may not be. Though it still came down to sin. Sex before marriage is sin. Pregnancy before marriage is sin. Did it really matter whether she consented or not?
She slipped into the public restroom at the store and quickly did the unthinkable. Waiting for the allotted two minutes, she looked at the stick, dreading what she might see. Tears in her eyes, she threw it in the trash and quickly made her way out of the store to make it in time for her next class.
The test was positive.

* * * * *
Jeremy sat in the computer lab working on a project for his graphics class. His friend Gordon sat next to him, and the two worked in silence for awhile.
“Do you think I could get Gwen to go to homecoming with me?” Gordon asked quickly, not looking over at Jeremy.
Jeremy, however, did look over. “Seriously, dude? Gwen?”
“What’s wrong with Gwen?”
Frowning, Jeremy said “She’s way out of our league. Do you seriously think she would be seen anywhere with anyone like us?”
“I saw you talking to Lana the other day.” Gordon said, continuing to look at his computer.
Jeremy shook his head. “We’re in an English project together, man, otherwise she wouldn’t have looked at me twice. Doesn’t mean she likes me, it just means she has to talk to me.”
Gordon nodded. “I guess. It’s just so frustrating, man. Why does the social food chain have to be so gnarly?”
“If I knew I’d tell you.” Jeremy said, beginning to feel sorry for his friend. “Dude, Gwen is so not worth it. She may be hot but I bet you she’s mean as hell.”
“We went to elementary school together, did you know that?” Gordon said, finally looking over.
Jeremy frowned. “No, I didn’t know.”
“We were friends all the way up until fifth grade, and that’s when she changed.” Gordon said, still looking Jeremy in the eyes. “That’s when I became the geek and she became the popular girl.”
Jeremy didn’t need to probe Gordon more to know what he was getting at. It was very ironic that before cliques took over their lives that they had been friends with people who later gained a much higher social status.
“I used to go to her birthday parties.” Gordon continued, looking back at his computer. “She’d probably be embarrassed to tell anyone that now. When we were in second grade we even pretended to get married.”
Jeremy nodded. “I’m sorry man, but now she’s an a-list cheerleader who probably wouldn’t care if you got run over by a bus.”
“Thanks, dude.” Gordon said sarcastically, but Jeremy only shrugged.
“Just the way things work I guess. It’s not always going to be like this, man, this is just high school. Things changed in elementary school, things will change when we graduate too.”
Gordon nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna marry a rich hot chick.”
“You do that.” Jeremy said rolling his eyes, and the two started laughing.


* * * * *
“Hey, Mexican, go back across the boarder!” someone yelled at Isabella from a near-by table as she went to find her friends during lunch.
Rolling her eyes, Isabella stopped and said, “Fuck off, I’m as American as you, dipshit.”
“She speaks English!” The boy said, acting surprised. “She’ll get a job at McDonalds no problem!”
Isabella was fuming internally. She’d had some problems in Jr. High with prejudice, but never had she been so directly harassed. She took a moment to walk up to the grinning blonde boy, resisting the urge to punch him.
“Just because your Mom was white trash and gave birth to your sorry ass doesn’t mean me and my Mexican heritage are gonna get a shitty job. Least I got brains, you’ve just got your attitude, which isn’t gonna get you anywhere but a nice little jail cell. So if you want to think I’ll be working as a fruit picker or at a fast food joint just because of my skin color, that’s fine, but at least I’ll be employed. Don’t be jealous that they’d rather hire me than some punk ass white kid who needs to pick on other people to cover up his own sorry life.”
The boy raised his eyebrows. “Feisty!”
Sighing in exasperation, Isabella walked away, holding up a select finger as the boys erupted in a fit of mock Spanish noises and jeering. When she found her friends Maria and Carlos, she sat down with her tray, still irritated.
“It’s not worth it, you know.” Maria said.
“It is and it isn’t.” Isabella replied, glancing over at the table of boys giving each other high fives. “I’m not gonna just let them talk like that, but you can’t win with people like that.”
Maria shook her head. “The whole country is like that, Bella. In one way or another they all think that. We’re outsiders to them even if we have a green card because they always have to have someone to torture.”
“It shouldn’t be that way.” Isabella said, “It doesn’t have to be that way. It’s only like that because people make it that way, but ignorance is like wildfire in California. We don’t have enough water to stop it yet, but eventually we’ll know better ways to prevent it. Things will get better.”
Carlos shrugged. “For some of us, maybe. My parents did jump the boarder, and they’re giving you shit even though your family came legally, over three generations ago.”
“Oh, don’t let them make you feel bad now.” Isabella said, disgusted. “You know the only reason they picked on me was because I’m a girl. They don’t have enough balls to pick on someone they think might fight back. They don’t know crap about our families, and it’s not like they care anyway.”
“The government does.” Carlos said, looking down at his food.
Isabella sighed. “And if the American government actually gave a crap, then your parents wouldn’t have to be illegal.”
Maria smiled ironically, looking at Carlos and then back at Isabella. “Think what you want, but you’re one of the only ones left who still has hope.”


* * * * *

As Aden thought of ways to talk to his mother, he purposely passed his fourth period class and walked out the door of the school to go to his usual place behind the dumpsters. When he got there he quickly pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and started to pull out some matches when he was interrupted by a quiet voice.
“You shouldn’t be smoking.”
Startled, Aden looked around to find where the voice had come from and quickly saw a small figure with her knees pulled to her chest on the other side of the dumpster. “Tia? What the hell are you doing back here?”
“What are you doing here?”
He paused for a moment. “Touché. But I’m the bad kid, remember? I skip class, you don’t.”
“Well you shouldn’t. Especially not to smoke. It gives you lung cancer.”
Aden shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I’ll stop sometime, it’s just both my parents do. I grew up with it.” Looking more carefully at her, he realized she didn’t look very well. “Tia, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But as she said it tears came to her eyes.
Slowly he walked to her and sat next to her. “You know I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I’m trying to think of ways to talk to my Mom. You’re right, I mean I can’t just sit around and watch it hap--”
She began crying and Aden took a moment to process how quickly she’d gone from teary eyed to sobbing. He pulled her close and held her, not knowing what else to do. “It’s okay Tia, it’s okay…”
Painfully, he recalled the times when his mother was in a similar state and he would try all he could to comfort her. He remembered times as young as five holding his mothers head as she crouched in a corner sobbing. She was always embarrassed afterwards and told him that sometimes adults got sad just like children. Of course, Aden knew that the bruises on her face and arms were the cause of her sadness. He’d known that as long as he could remember.
Continuing to hold Tia, she consented to cry on his shoulder for almost a minute before pulling away, eyes puffy and face swollen.
“No, I’m fine, just go, you should be in class.”
“Clearly, you’re not fine.” Aden said, trying to control his voice. “Clearly, something or someone is hurting you, and you’re afraid to tell anyone.”
The moment he said it, he saw it. With her face raw from crying, a bit of makeup had washed away with her tears, and there was a clear bruise on the side of her cheek. He slowly reached out and touched it lightly, but the greenish half-healed bruise still made her flinch. Tia’s eyes grew wide, and she was distracted from crying. She knew he saw it.
“Tia, is someone hurting you?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but she was lost for words. He looked at her straight in the eyes.
“Is someone hurting you?”
She shook her head. “It’s not the same as your mother, Aden.” Her voice was broken and weak, but he could tell she meant what she said. “And I can’t help but think that…to think that it’s my fault.”
Aden could feel rage build up inside of him. “How can you say it’s not the same as my Mom? Someone is hitting you and you couldn’t tell me?”
“Aden.” She said softly, fighting tears. “It’s not on purpose, it’s not like that. It’s just what happens sometimes when…” She began crying again, much harder this time. “I’m a terrible person Aden, I hate myself, I hate it! I hate myself…”
Quickly, he hushed her as she began crying again. Aden considered what she had said. Not on purpose? Whatever it was, talking about it had made her think it was her fault, and Aden was afraid to push the matter further. Being cautious and gentle, he lifted her face up from where she was crying into her hands to make her look at him.
“Don’t talk about yourself like that. Whatever it is, it’s not your fault. And I won’t make you talk about it right now, but Tia, if someone’s hurting you, you can’t let them keep doing it like my Mom is letting my Dad. You just… you can’t.”
She fell into him then, and continued to cry. He could tell she didn’t know what else to do, and really, neither did he.
“I’m an awful person, Aden.”
“Tia-”
“No, just listen.” Tia said, sitting up and looking resolved. “I can’t tell you, and I’m sorry. I want to, but I have to figure it out on my own first. You have to promise me that you won’t think any differently of me if you do find out and that you’ll give me time to figure it out on my own. Promise me?”
Aden wasn’t sure he wanted to promise the second part, because just as his mother continued to put up with things she shouldn’t, Aden could see that Tia might be the same way. “I would never think differently of you.”
“Promise.”
Aden sighed. “Promise.”