Violet closed her bedroom door and ran her hand through Blondie’s fur. The dog rolled onto her back for a belly rub, paws to heaven. She drew her diary from its secret place and began to write about the horrors of the day. She finished with, “God, please help him.” Her biology book sat waiting for her homework assignment. She ignored it, preferring to brainstorm a way to get to the hospital tomorrow. Her mother could be handled; Violet had years of experience in getting her way. She thought long and hard, glancing at the biology book. An idea began to form in a dark corner of her mind.

When Alice knocked an hour later, Violet told her she was still nauseated. Her mother opened the door. “Do you need castor oil?” she asked.

Violet cringed. “No, Mama, I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning. I’m going to sleep.”

“Did you do your biology homework?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she lied.

“All right, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” Mama looked exhausted. Violet heard her murmuring to Daddy, something about gray hair.

Samuel “Red” Davidson had driven home in his ‘38 Plymouth Coupe, partially a gift from his parents and the rest paid for with years of toil in his father’s department stores. He thought about Johnny and wiped a few tears, then pounded the steering wheel. His best friend in the world might not live, or might not walk again. Red tried to decide which would be worse.

When he walked into the parlor his parents were reading, though his mother asked fifteen questions before he could escape to his bedroom. He opened a dresser drawer and removed an envelope. The best part of being yearbook photographer was keeping certain pictures for his own. He looked at Violet, beaming at a school dance. She’d worn white satin and pearls, every inch the princess. Johnny was in the background, laughing and waving at Red’s camera. He replaced the envelope and collapsed onto his bed.

The following morning Violet waited until she heard her father’s car exit the driveway. She straightened her clothes, applied lipstick carefully, and went downstairs. Her mother sipped coffee at the kitchen table. Violet sat opposite her and began, “Mama, there’s something you should know. Johnny is more than my boyfriend. He’s the father of my baby.”

Alice set her cup down carefully. “What are you talking about?”

“The reason I have to be by his side right now. Johnny and I have been...acting like husband and wife for months now. I’m pregnant.”

“What in the world?” her mother dropped her forehead into her hands. “I can’t talk to you about this right now. Go to school and we’ll discuss it this afternoon.”

“I’ll be going to the hospital after school.”

“Exactly how are you planning to get there, Violet?” Alice spoke to the table.