Fall ❈ Benny Rodriguez

xxi. my tears are becoming a sea

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE!
MY TEARS ARE BECOMING A SEA　M83

　

　

DESPITE MY EFFORTS, Benny was clearly suspicious. He definitely knew something was off, although I tried to act normal—only it was hard to be normal when you didn't feel normal and therefore didn't quite know what normal truly was.

　The two-hour school day consisted of receiving a schedule and plenty of paperwork. We had all been placed in rooms according to the first letter of our last names—Benny and I were placed in the same room, naturally, so I was literally never away from him at all—but were later sent back to the gym.

　The last half hour was basically time for all of the students to catch up. The principal was speaking into a microphone, but no one paid any attention. Especially me. Even if I could stop zoning off, thinking about the fact that I was pregnant, I would not have been able to pay attention, because all of my friends had grouped together around me.

　The Sandlot Boys, minus Benny, Kenny and Bertram, were now sophomores, so the halls of this high school would be a bit less lonely. That also meant that I had less of a chance to mope. More of a chance of being caught in the act of moping. It was all very complicated.

　Until we were dismissed, I only managed to give half-ass responses. Initially, Leah seemed to be the most concerned, somehow seeing the conflict behind my eyes, but she did not push me when I told her I was just tired. The others were far too excited to question it at all.

　Well, everyone except for Benny. He could read me like a book.

　Following dismissal was a stampede of kids and approaching-adults. Benny and I went out to his car, hardly able to fend off all of the people who approached, wondering what had happened to Benny and Brandy or expressing their joy that I was back. I almost didn't understand how they could remember me—and then I remembered how much havoc I had caused: The fights must have sealed a reputation for me here.

　Benny's car smelled of cologne and the coffee from this morning. As the boy made his way to the driver's side door, I rested my head against the window, not quite feigning the sickness I actually did feel. Perhaps it was simply the revulsion of knowing what was inside of me and being so terrified of revealing it to the person who most deserved to know.

　Benny got into the car, started it—and waited. Due to my closed eyes, I did not notice the way that he was staring at me. Still I felt the burn of his expectant gaze on my skin.

　"What's really wrong?" Benny finally asked, when he realized that I was not going to look at him.

　Right to the point; I hoped there was no way he could catch the way my heart clenched in fear. He may have noticed, however, the way my bones locked, muscles tightened—there was no controlling or hiding it. Rather than turning to look at him, I remained in place, head pressed to the window, eyes closed. But my body had gone rigid.

　"If you're still sick, you can just say so," he continued. "You didn't have to tough it out. I could've figured something out for you."

　Oh! Maybe this would be easier, considering he had practically provided himself with an excuse. I felt horrible for it, but the majority of my will pulled toward following along with the "sickness" bit.