Sparrows For Free

Chapters One-Ten

Prologue

Mara's chattering on about some guy who flirted with her during art class. She's using the voice she saves only for telling me when guys flirt with her or when some guy asks her out even though she's made it known throughout the whole school and the whole town that we're together. It pierces my eardrums, and I'm sick and tired of hearing it.

She tells me thirteen times a day that her mom and dad got engaged when they were our age.

Which I really don't understand since she says she'll never get married.

I spend most of my time completely confused—in the migraine inducing way.

"So, he says, 'Oh, I guess you'll be there with Ezra. That's too bad."

I wonder if she should really be telling everyone about guys flirting with her while she's pregnant and obviously involved.

Involved—I take the word seriously, but my feelings are anything but.

And I've tried to love her.

God help me I've tried to love her. I saw some big earringed lady on TV say that our thoughts dictate everything that happens in our lives. She said if someone concentrated on what they wanted hard enough, it would come true. That thoughts become reality.

I chant loving things to myself about Mara every day.

It never works.

The day I heard the woman on TV was the day after I'd already slept with Mara. We'd only been together three or four weeks, but she said she wanted to, and I'm a guy—of course I wanted to.

I continued to pretend I was as infatuated with her as she seemed to be with me.

Though I'd begun to hear gossip of her extra-curricular activities almost immediately after we'd started going out, I ignored them.

I think about all of these things while she yammers on. I keep glancing at her belly, barely a bump, with the baby that's caused not only my parents to hate me, but my sister, as well. My brother, Knox, has refused to even talk to me since I told the family. He's probably praying for me.

I'm taking her to the attorney's office. She wants to give the baby up for adoption at the not so sly coercing of her parents. I check her face to see if there's even a sliver of the same emotion in her that's gnawing so deeply inside of me.

There's none.

She's still smiling and checking herself in that jade green compact she always carries around. There's no remorse or regret in her eyes. I take the next left. Only one more street and we will be on the same road as the place where we will sit at some staunch table and sign away the rights to our kid—my kid.

I can get a job. I can get two jobs. I will get my G.E.D. and get as many jobs as I need. Mom said she won't let me live at home, but I know she will. I'd hire the best babysitters. I'd bring him to the best pre-school. I'd do whatever I had to.

I haven't even seen this kid yet, and I'm ready to lay down everything I have for him.

Now she's talking about some dress she wants to buy for prom, but she can't because of—she points to her belly in disgust.

I want to pull over on the side of the road. I want to grab her shoulders and beg her not to do this. I'm tempted to tell her I love her and I'll marry her just to divert her from making us give up this baby, even though she laughed at me the last time I attempted such a feat. Especially since I haven't told her I loved her since that first time after we slept together.