Two months ago my life was a mess, but two months ago I wasn’t pregnant. Ethan is actually stepping up like he promised he would if I kept this baby; our baby. My belly hasn’t grown much, so my parents haven’t taken notice to my extra time in the bathroom. Not that they’re ever home or sober to do anything but yell and pay my tuition.

My life is finally a bit in order; my grades are excellent; Ethan is supporting me with ever doctor visit. Now I’m packing some clothes so I can spend the night at Ethan’s.

“S-Stacie! Honey! Come here!” My mom stutters from the living room. I hesitate in letting my mom know I’m even here, but I go against my better judgement.

“Yeah, mom?” I ask.

“Look! I b-bought you this!” She hold us a hideous plaid shirt and smiles. I can’t help but feel sorry for her, “Try it on! Come on honey.”

“I can’t mom, uh, I think you got the wrong size.” I lie. It’s my size, but I’ve been growing a little, so it might not fit.

“Try it! I’ll get daddy!”

If Mom found out, would she tell Dad?