A N G E L (Roger Daltrey)

Twenty Two

*Major TW for yelling/angry father figure/brief mention of wanting to d!e*

Janice's POV

Nancy staggered backwards and fell onto her bed.

I jumped up from her desk and ran to her, scooping her up as best as I could. Her arms were folded over her stomach and she wailed in a horrifying, grieving tone.

The tears I was still crying for Roger turned into tears of pity for my best friend. She leaned her head into my body, her face and eyes red, blonde hair sticking to her forehead.

"It's a false positive!" She finally choked out. "I'm bleeding, I can't be pregnant! How is it positive?"

Unfortunately, both of Nancy's parents exploded into the room right as she spoke those words, summoned by the cries of their daughter.

"What is going on in here?" Her father bellowed.

We both startled, almost knocking heads. Her dad was usually pretty mellow and soft-spoken. He seldom even came around us, opting to stick to himself. Now, though, he had an edge to his voice that I had never heard. It scared me, and I knew it scared Nancy, too.

"James." Edith said her husband's name quietly, delicately placing one hand on his arm.

To everyone's surprise, he shrugged away from her touch and stalked across the room to where Nancy and I sat huddled on the bed, clinging to each other.

He stared down at us for a second, his eyes flickering between the two of us. Then, before I could react, he grabbed Nance by the shoulders and ripped her away from me.

"I said, what is going on, young lady?" He gave her a little shake, and she burst into a fresh set of sobs.

I sat frozen in my spot. I couldn't decide if I should try to get my best friend away from her dad, who had suddenly gone bonkers in Yonkers, or if I was better off scooting as far away from said dad as humanly possible.

The safest option, I figured, was to just stay exactly where I was.

Edith came over to the bed then. Silently, she pulled her little girl away from the man who was supposed to love her the most and into a protective hug.

"Nancy," she said calmly, "tell us what's happened, sweetheart."

I watched as she hiccuped, trying to catch her breath enough to speak.

I wished the earth would open up and swallow us whole. I wished for a tornado, an earthquake, the rapture--something to make everything go away.

Part of me wished we had never gone to the damn Who concert in the first place. All it had done was leave me heartbroken and my best friend pregnant. Another part of me tried to blame her, saying none of it would have ever happened if she hadn't bought the tickets.

So I just sat there in total useless silence, feeling like shit and acting like an even shittier best friend.

As I listened to Nancy explain her predicament to her parents, I felt bad for not saying anything. I didn't know what to say. It was kind of my fault, too.

Or maybe it was really my fault. She never would have gone backstage if I hadn't suggested it. Guilt washed over me in hot, uncomfortable waves.

When you get down to the nuts and bolts of it, it was all my fault. Wasn't it? Of course, I didn't force Nancy to sleep with Keith. I didn't know she liked him until the day of the show.

It was all quite overwhelming and confusing, and I wasn't even the one who was worst off in the situation.

I was jerked out of my thoughts and back to earth by Nancy's father demanding she "get rid of it."

"What would everyone think of you, huh?" He raged. "Everyone would think you're a whore, that's what they'd think!" he said.

And then, in a higher octave, "What does that say about me? Huh? What would all our friends say about me? About your mom? Knowing that we have a skank for a daughter?"

His words echoed straight through me. It sounded like he was very far away, or that I was hollow inside. Or both.

"M-M-Mr. James," I began when he had stopped long enough to take a breath, "she really may not be p-pregnant, 'cuz of, of, on account of her bleeding."

Thick silence hung over us for a second.

Nancy's dad locked eyes with me. "You." He stated, calm as anything. "You're just like your mother."

His words felt like a knife in my chest.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice quavering.

I knew exactly what he meant. But I deserved to hear it.

"What I mean," he blinked, "is that you're some sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll crazed little hippie that will never amount to anything other than a strung-out, dirty bum! So my tax dollars will pay for a roof over your head and food in your belly while you sit on your ass doing nothing worthwhile! It was a mistake to ever let you live here, and it was a mistake to ever let you be friends with my little girl!"

He roughly grabbed the top of Nancy's head and pulled her into his side.

Her eyes were still pouring tears, but she stayed absolutely silent, gazing past me. Refusing to look at me. Refusing to fight her father's hold on her. Totally unmoving.

I slowly stood up from the bed and crossed over to the door. An adrenaline-fueled burst of confidence tore through me, and I felt shaky.

"Hey James?" I started, my back to him. "Go to hell."

Then, before I had time to see or hear his reaction, I darted out of the room and out of the house, past Nancy's blue beetle and past the end of the blacktop driveway.

My feet slowed to a walk, and I burst into tears.

I missed Roger.

I missed everything being easy and normal.

I missed my mom.

I walked and walked and cried and cried until eventually I ended up at my house.

My legs were wobbly and I felt all dizzy and lightheaded from crying and walking.

After staggering up to the house, I rooted around for the spare key.

Luckily, it was still there. Right under the big, flat rock on the porch, just like always. This comforted me a little bit.

I let myself in and collapsed on our worn-down couch. It smelled like my mom.

My feet hurt.

It was dark and stuffy inside the house, so I pulled the cord to the lamp to at least get some light.

Nothing happened.

I realized in dismay that nobody had paid the electric bill in a while. Or the water, or the gas, or anything else.

I drew my achy knees to my chest.

No power meant not only no lights, but no phone. No way to cook. No flushing the commode. I couldn't even put on a record to break up the silence.

There was no way I could realistically stay here for more than a few hours, maybe overnight at most, but I didn't have anywhere else to go.

Even if I did, I didn't have any way to get there. I didn't have anyone anymore. Not my mom, not Roger, not anybody.

I stretched out on the couch and covered my head with a blanket that smelled like cigarettes.

As my tired body and brain faded into sleep, I silently wished that I wouldn't wake up.