Chapter Twelve

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The Beaumont Ball was announced just a few days after Tatum's grandmother Gertrude told me about it.

It was now already nearing December, and Boston was growing colder and colder. Much colder than it had ever been in Alabama.

"I see you aren't used to this weather," Tatum said, laughing at me as I clambered into his car, wearing a sweater, a parka, thick sweatpants, furry boots, and a cable-knit beanie over my ears.

"Not at all." Of course, Tatum's car was burning up, so I had to shed the beanie and parka as soon as I had stepped into it. "It's freezing."

It had begun to snow a few days ago, and now it was everywhere. All of the streets were filled with it. It was packed on top of roofs. Everywhere I looked, there was cold, white snow. There was even some on the floor of Tatum's car. Actually, I was the one that tracked it in, and he didn't seem to mind it.

It was too cold to walk anywhere, especially to Serenity or Torn Pages, so Tatum offered to drive me there. I had finished all the books I was reading—if there was a better pastime in the winter than sitting in your warm dorm room with a good book and a latte, I hadn't heard it—and needed some new ones, so a trip to Torn Pages was in order.

At Torn Pages, I purchased five books and Tatum got one. It was fun to joke with him about his slow reading—I could finish multiple books in the time it took him to finish one.

In Serenity, he bought me a vanilla latte while I began on my first book, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. I had heard amazing things about it, and when I saw a used copy of it at Torn Pages for only five dollars, I knew it was a sign that I had to buy it.

"You know," I began, placing a bookmark in between pages twelve and thirteen, "the Beaumont Ball is in two weeks."

"I bet you're going to take some super-hot Pentry boy there as your date," he teased with a Tatum-trademarked grin, nudging me in the arm with his elbow.

"Actually, I'm thinking about just going with friends."

Tatum's smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Are you serious?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Of course not. Would you like to go to the Beaumont Ball with me?" I asked, using dramatic hand gestures.

He took one of my hands, kissed the top of it, and said, "I'd be honored."

"I've got a problem."

I spun my desk chair around to face whoever was at my dorm room door. It was Aspen.

Aspen and I didn't talk much, so I wasn't very close to her. Somehow, I even talked to Carlisle more than I talked to Aspen, which was very weird to me. Aspen was just so stereotypically perfect that it actually made her seem uninteresting most of the time.

Marisol was out on a date with Warren, who, after two hours of crying last night and trying to decide if she should date him again, was given a thousandth chance. They were probably at Ophelia's, where most of their dates were located.

"What's up?" I asked.

"May I come in?" She finger-combed her long, blonde hair, as she always did when she was nervous.

"Yeah."

Aspen sat down on Marisol's bed and wrapped one of her pink blankets around her. "I honestly don't know why I'm coming to you, but I feel like you're a trustworthy person."
I couldn't think of how I should reply to that, so I just said, "Uh, thank you." The way I said it made it sound more like a question than a statement.

"You met my boyfriend, Foster, at Celia Howell's party," she said, her hands politely intertwined and sitting on her lap. "Do you remember him?"

"Red hair? Tall?" I had a faint memory of him. That was quite long ago and I met many people that night.

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"Well, we've been dating for about three months. We weren't when you met him, but we are now." Aspen ran her fingers through her glossy hair again. "I really like him, Kayleigh. Honestly, I love him. He's perfect and he's sweet to me and he's everything I want in a guy."

I gave her a sweet smile. "You guys sound perfect for each other. What's the problem?"

She inhaled a deep breath, covered her face with her hands, and exhaled as she said, "I'm pregnant."

I could feel my jaw drop and just hang there in disbelief. There was a baby living inside of Aspen right now, and that was enough to freak me out. Pregnancy always seemed very odd to me. "Are you sure? How long have you been pregnant?"

"Positive. I'm literally positive, Kayleigh. I took five tests because I couldn't believe it and they all say the exact same thing. Positive." She blinked back tears and bit her bottom lip. "I'm about two weeks along. I was feeling really off, so I just took one to be on the safe side. When it was positive, I flipped. I'm only seventeen. I can't raise a child."

"I'm sure Foster will help you raise him. You won't be doing it alone. Also, you've got Carlisle, Lindsay, Marisol, and I."

"That's what I want to talk to you about, Kayleigh. I don't know if I want to have a baby." When I furrowed my eyebrows, she added, "I'm thinking about getting an abortion."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as soothing as I possibly could. "Or is that just what Foster wants you to do?"

"Foster doesn't know yet," she mumbled, picking at a loose thread from Marisol's blanket. "I'm scared to tell him. I know that he would want me to get an abortion, but I want this to be my decision and not his. If I tell him, he will be the one calling the shots."

"He can't call the shots unless you let him."
"Like I said, he's perfect." She laid down on Marisol's bed, covering her reddened face with the blanket. "Our relationship is not. We don't always agree on everything, and I don't want this to be something we fight about. What do you think I should do, Kayleigh?"

Honestly, I had no idea. It wasn't like I had ever been pregnant before. I was a virgin. But, my stance on abortion had always been that it's wrong, but maybe it'd be different if I was actually pregnant. "You've got options, Aspen. You could keep the baby, you could give it up for adoption, or you could—"

"Get an abortion," she finished for me.

"Yeah."

She sighed loudly. "I can't make decisions. This is why Foster and I work so well. He tells me what to do, and I do it. It prevents me from having to decide."

"That's not a healthy relationship," I told her.

"I know. I think I should tell Foster. If he's willing to help me raise it, then maybe I'll keep it."

"Just remember that it is ultimately your decision," I said. "No one else's."

She got up from the bed, the blanket still wrapped around her, and hugged me tightly. "Thank you, Kayleigh. Even though I still don't know what I should do, I know that whatever choice I choose is the right one."

"You're welcome." I hugged her back, and I could feel her shaking. She was beginning to cry.

She pulled away from me, wiped her eyes, and left the room without another word.

Marisol, Lindsay, Carlisle, and Aspen all had their problems. At first glance, all the girls seemed perfect. They didn't seem to have their struggles, but that was only because they dealt with them in secret, behind closed doors. Marisol couldn't decide if she really wanted to be with Warren, and she still had to deal with her father's absence in her life. Lindsay had to deal with her friends, trying to always be there for them, but also needing to live her own life. Carlisle felt like she wasn't good enough for the guy she liked, Chance, although in reality, he probably didn't deserve her. And now, Aspen was pregnant.

After begin with them for months, I was able to realize that perfect people don't exist. There's always something going on below the surface. You just have to be able to see through the perfect outer layer to get a hint about what's underneath.

~~~

I didn't eat dinner at Beaumont Academy much. I probably should, since it's free and it usually tasted pretty well, but lately Tatum and I had been hitting restaurant after restaurant in Boston. He was set on taking me to each restaurant that he enjoyed there as a kid.

But, today, I wanted to eat at Beaumont Academy because I hadn't eaten dinner with my friends in a long time. I sat at a table near the double doors that opened to the Beaumont Cafe, where Marisol, Carlisle, Aspen, Lindsay, and Ivy were also sitting.

I didn't know Ivy that well, but she was pretty good friends with the rest of the girls so she usually sat with us during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She was always super nice to me, but we usually didn't have very much to talk about.

"Mrs. Peterson is the devil, I swear to you all," Marisol said after taking a large bite of her poke cake. Poke cake was a Beaumont Academy delicacy. It's white cake with holes in it. They pour liquid Jell-O over it and it seeps into the holes and makes the whole cake taste absolutely amazing.

"Marisol, please don't talk with your mouthful," Aspen said, giggling. After our conversation a little earlier, she seemed to be in a better mood. I was glad for her.

"Sorry!" Marisol swallowed the piece of poke cake, took a drink out of her water bottle, and said, "My grade in English is slipping, but I've got everything turned in. I just don't think Mrs. Peterson likes me."

"My grade isn't that great, either," I told her. It was true. Lately, my English grade has been slowly decreasing, although I kept turning in all the papers and working hard on everything I turned in. She was a terribly hard grader.

"That's why I'm glad that I've got Ms. Doyle," Carlisle said. "If you turn it in, you automatically get a one-hundred for the score, even if it's completely wrong. Points are for completion, not correction."

Marisol laid back in her seat. "Wow. That sounds amazing."

"So, Kayleigh," Carlisle began, drumming her fingers against the table, "how are you and Tatum?"

"Are you guys dating?" Ivy asked me, her eyes wide. When I nodded, she squealed. "Oh my goodness! That's so cute!"

"Thanks," I said with a smile, taking a drink out of the can of lemon-lime soda that sat in front of me. "We're good. He's going to be my date for the Beaumont Ball."

"Tatum's an amazing ballroom dancer," Aspen said.

"I'm not," I replied, trying to laugh. Maybe he could teach me. I didn't know the first thing about ballroom dancing.

"Who should I ask to the Beaumont Ball?" Ivy asked, twisting a strand of white-blonde hair around her right index finger.

"Ryan Norfolk," Carlisle offered.

"Dawson Westfield," Lindsay suggested.

"Lysander Kellams," Aspen proposed. Everyone looked at her, shaking their heads, and she turned bright red. "Maybe not Lysander. He is kind of a jerk."

"He's already got a date," Carlisle informed her. "Francesca Bellisari already asked him."

Aspen scrunched up her nose. "Francesca Bellisari. I hate her."

"Why?" Lindsay asked. Lindsay didn't hate anybody, so she was always curious to why anybody would hate anyone else.

"She's a major homewrecker. When Foster and I were just talking and not yet dating, she'd try to insert herself into his life constantly." She took a bite of her second sandwich. It must be true that pregnancy improves your appetite. "She even asked him to do stuff with her."

"What'd he say?" Lindsay asked, sliding a spoonful of mac and cheese into her mouth. Mac and cheese was Lindsay's favorite food. She ate it at least once every day.

"He said no, of course."

"I think I'll ask Dawson Westfield," Ivy said dreamily, as if she wasn't aware the topic of conversation had changed. "He's so sweet and adorable with his baby face. I doubt anyone's asked him already. Who is everyone else asking?"

"Ian," Lindsay said.

"Foster," Aspen stated.

"Probably Chance," Carlisle muttered.

"Warren," Marisol said.

"So we're all going to have dates,"Ivy commented, laying her head down on the dinner table. "Looks like we need togo shopping for dresses."

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