Even though Aiden and I skipped school much of the week, our friends have been dropping off our homework so that we don’t fall behind, or more specifically, I don’t fall behind. Aiden could practically teach every class, but we all know I need that extra help in calculus or I’m not graduating.

Aiden agreed to come over Friday morning after dropping the twins off at school to help me catch up. He follows me up to my room where we can sit comfortably while being tortured with math, but pauses before we get there.

“I just have to go to the bathroom first.”

“Yeah, sure. Use this one.” I point to the rarely used bathroom in the hallway as we walk by it.

I continue into my room and am setting up our books when I hear the bathroom door swing open, followed by some quick, heavy footsteps, then Aiden charges in.

He’s holding a little plastic stick. It looks like a thermometer. His face is an almost comical mix of fear and confusion. He holds the object out to me, and that’s when I realize it’s a pregnancy test.

I feel all the blood drain from my face.

He trips over his words. “But we . . . But that’s . . . we used . . . you’re pregnant?”

It’s then that the situation actually clicks in my head.

“What?” All the blood rushes to my head and the room spins around me. Pregnant? It says pregnant? No, no, no, no, no, it cannot say pregnant. There’s way too much going on right now to handle that too. I rush over and grab it from his hand, then let a sigh of relief immediately escape.

“It says not pregnant.” I set it down on my dresser, my heart trying to calm itself as I glance back at Aiden. His eyes are wide, the frustration and disbelief not dissipating like mine did.

“You thought you were pregnant and weren’t going to tell me?!”

“Wait, what?”

He looks like he wants to pull all his hair out. “Thea! Were you not here when I just handed you your pregnancy test? Why wouldn’t you tell me? We could’ve gone through this together.”

He thinks it’s mine? For some reason I feel like laughing even though this isn’t exactly the right situation to laugh at.

“Aiden, that’s not my pregnancy test. I have my own bathroom. If it was mine, it would be in there.”

The anger and frustration is replaced by confusion. “But if it’s not yours—” I wait a second for him to connect the dots when his jaw drops. There it is.

“Oh no.”

Oh no, indeed.

“This is not good.” He voices the words I’m thinking.

“I know. What would’ve happened if my mom was pregnant with Mason’s dad’s baby?”

All the possible scenarios run through my head, none of which end with Mason and me still being friends.

“Brian needs to tell Mason, and soon, or else you’re going to have to.”