Predator

Chapter Fifteen

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Snowflakes wander peacefully to the ground outside my window, the whiteness making my room especially bright, and Quinn sits cross-legged on my bed as I look sideways into my closet door mirror. My sweater is held up above my torso, exposing my bare stomach, and she looks at me through the reflection and nods her head.

"Yup," she says. "You're showing."

"Are you sure?" I question. "Maybe I'm at the stage where it just looks like I had a big lunch."

Quinn shakes her head. "No, you've been in that stage for the past two weeks. Now you can tell."

I sigh. "Well, I guess I held off later than expected."

The scene in my bedroom has become a typical one since befriending Quinn. What's unusual is a day where she doesn't come over to my house, which is rare. Before this year, the last time I had someone over was in the sixth grade. I think it's funny that just as I'm getting a regular teenaged social life, everything else regular about me is going the opposite direction. But I like this. I've never had a best friend.

One of the reasons I think Quinn likes being over here is because she doesn't want to burden Mercedes' family. That's who she's staying with, and I still am a bit in the dark about how that whole occurrence went down. I sense she doesn't like discussing it, so I don't pry. I do have a great deal of respect for Mercedes now, though. Even if she is my competition for solos. But aside from Quinn's living conditions, I am pretty much aware about every other thing that happens in her day-to-day life, and she, mine. I've never been so open to someone before, not even my family, and I love it. Just talking, no judgement.

"Hi baby," I whisper, tracing the soft skin with one chipped, red fingernail. Then I drop my sweater so it again rests at my hips, and plop down on the bed next to Quinn.

"Do you think it'll be hard for you?" I ask her. "Giving up your baby?"

She shrugs. "Well, yeah. But in the end I know that she's going to a better place, and I think I can cope with that."

"I couldn't do it," I admit, sinking against a pillow. "I get too attached to things. Which, I guess I get that from my dads- they held on to every piece of clothing I wore until I was eight."

She looks thoughtful. "I suppose I've never been like that. I mean, of course it's going to be different with her, though. I probably don't even have a clue."

Neither of us say anything for awhile, just completely comfortable in the silence. "I always wondered what my mother felt," I say eventually. "Giving me away, I mean."

"Oh," she exhales. "I'm sure it was painful for her. Just because she gave you up doesn't mean she doesn't love you. And I guess that's a biased opinion, but," she trails off.

I watch the falling snow outside. If I focus on a select few, they seem to move gracefully in slow motion, each with a set destination. Then I focus on a single one, which weaves lazily between the others before it smacks into the glass and promptly melts. The sight is soothing.

"I wish I could keep her," she then says. "I would, if it weren't for my situation with money and family and everything."

"God Quinn, I don't even know how I'll afford to keep mine!" I exclaim. "Sure, my parents will be helping, but babies are expensive. Food, clothes, baby furniture, doctor's appointments- I need to get a job, fast."

"I thought I saw that the diner on the square is hiring. Maybe you could apply there," she suggests.

"I will."

"Hey, but do you know another way to get money for your baby?" she suddenly asks.

"What?"

She looks at me bluntly. "Getting the bastard who caused this whole mess to pay child support."