"No, you can't miss practice," she croaked out, nostrils flaring as she shifted around in discomfort. "It's your last one before the big game tomorrow."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter –"

"Yes, it does," she quickly cut me off. "Go to practice, D. I'll catch up with you at lunch."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

I wasn’t sure about this.

Not one goddamn bit, but I also knew that Coach would have my balls if I didn’t make practice.

"I'm gonna call Mercy," I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket and quickly dialing. "She'll come sit with you until you feel better."

"Mmm-hmm." She nodded weakly. "Whatever you say."

41 Molly

I was regretting every meal I had ever eaten in conscious memory.

Thankfully, my body waited until my boyfriend left for practice before turning on me.

Regrettably, I hosed the door of his Chevy with chunks before Mercy hoisted me into her Comet and drove me home – but not before making a quick pitstop at the pharmacy first.

"Dude, you are totally pregnant."

"Mercy!" I cried out in between heaves as I emptied this morning's Cheerios into the toilet bowl. "Why would you even say that?"

"Uh, maybe because it's the most logical explanation for morning sickness?" she offered back from her perch on my bathroom sink, as she filed her nails. "This is so wild. Rourke is going to be so stoked that it's not us."

"Oh my god, don’t tell anyone!" I practically screamed before throwing my guts up once more. "I'm not even preg –" More vomit than I knew could be housed in a 90lb human body exited my mouth with a flourish. "Help me…"

"I will –" she pointed to the rectangular box at my feet, "when you take the test."

"I don’t need a test, Mercy, I know my own body –" More vomit.

"Yes, you do," she pushed. "You guys didn’t use protection your first time, and your periods are irregular. You don’t have a damn clue when you're due, and now you're hurling your guts up – oh, and not to be insensitive, but, bitch, you've packed on at least fifteen pounds since school started up. You are the poster girl for someone who needs to take a test."

"La, la, la – I'm not listening to you!"

"Not listening to me won't change the fact that you've got yourself a big old intruder in there," she mused. "Damn girl. Have you even thought about what giving birth to Daryl King's super-sized spawn is going to do to your itty bitty vag –"

"Shut up, Mercy!"

"Hormones…"

Tears filled my eyes and I erupted like a freaking waterfall. "I'm not pregnant," I sobbed, clinging to the porcelain bowl for all I was worth. "I can't be."

"Listen, Molls, you're not dying here," Mercy attempted to coax. "This isn’t necessarily the worst thing in the world –"

I turned to glare at her.

"Okay, it's pretty bad," she conceded, holding her hands up. "And the worst possible timing, but it's not the end of the world."