But I remembered TWCrashandBurn from a few months ago. Not only was her handle a cool homage to the cult-classic Hackers—one of my favorite movies—I’d also thought the question presented was relatable and an opportunity to help people who were wondering the same thing. I’d spoken to Mom about it—hypothetically posing the questions about birth control and if “doubling up” was really necessary.

I never said it was impossible to get pregnant while on the pill.

I’d given statistics on the accuracy of the pill when used by itself, but I also went on to say that nothing is foolproof.

You got a girl pregnant.

Pregnant.

I snapped my eyes open, the email like walking on thin ice and falling straight through.

All the blissfulness I’d felt this morning vanished.

Acid bubbled in my stomach, rolling and crashing worse than waves in a hurricane. The first six emails I’d read for the blog this morning had been hate mail from protesting parents.

Now this.

Another wave, and my skin tightened and the backs of my jaws tingled.

I leaped out of my chair so fast it tipped over. I barely made it to the bathroom before I lost my breakfast.

Pregnant. My fault.

What else had I done?

Who else had I harmed?

I rinsed my mouth out with ice-cold water before brushing my teeth twice.

I’m so careful.

Talking to Mom or Dad, doing more research than I ever had before, and combining both to create an answer I thought was perfect.

Maybe I really didn’t know anything. And that fact was ruining people’s lives.

After splashing cold water on my face a few times, and sure my stomach had nothing left to throw up, I righted my computer chair and sat in front of my opened laptop.

The email stared me down, accusing me of the worst.

How could I possibly make this right?

My fingers hovered over the keys, ready to reply, but I couldn’t. What could I say? There was no combination of words that would make this right for a girl who’d trusted me—trusted Ask Me Anything. No magic response that would alleviate the guilt nibbling at my insides—eating me slowly. No more than I deserved.

The room spun around me, swirling with the wide popularity of the blog, the protesting parents, the girl who’d gotten pregnant. All of it a massive tornado of emotions—hate and hope and regret—whirling with the sheer intent to swallow me whole.

What have I done?

A cold sweat broke along the back of my neck, and I hated myself in that moment. Hated that I’d thought I was smart enough to help students where Tanner had hindered them.

Tanner.

All I’d wanted was to make him see. Rile him enough to open his eyes. Force a change for the better.