Chain Reaction (4 page)

8

Nikki

I didn’t mean to knee Luis in the nuts.

Okay, so that’s not entirely true. I meant to knee him where it counts. I just didn’t mean to do it hard—in front of everyone, including the bride and groom. And my parents. And his mother. And everyone else who happened to be on the dance floor at the time.

While Luis grabs his crotch and winces in pain, I walk away and head for the women’s restroom. Sprint is more like it. Maybe if I distance myself quickly, nobody will know that Dr. Cruz’s daughter is a complete mess. Fat chance, I know.

I lock myself in a stall, content to stay here forever if it means I don’t have to face the rest of the world for a while. After about five minutes of pretending that I don’t exist and wishing I were a fictional character in one of Ben’s stupid video games, I think the coast is clear … until I hear the click of a woman’s shoes and a knock on my stall door.

Knock, knock, knock
. “Nikki, it’s your mother,” she says, her knuckles rapping on the door. “Open up.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Her response is more knocking.

I open the door slowly. “Hi,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Don’t
Hi
me, young lady. You completely embarrassed me and your father out there.”

“Sorry,” I say dumbly.

“I’m not the one who needs an apology. What in God’s name came over you, Nikki?”

“Nothing.” If I told her, then she’d know about my secret. I can’t tell her; not now when I’m trying to figure out what to do. “I just … it was an accident.”

“An accident?” Mom asks, not convinced in the least. She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but hurting people and embarrassing yourself and your family isn’t the answer.”

I know that. But I couldn’t stand there while Luis’s strong hands wrapped around my waist. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and pretend he was my knight in shining armor willing to avenge my honor. But that was a fantasy. When he spoke to me in Spanish, it reminded me too much of Marco and the biggest mistake of my life. I have no knight, no honor.

“I suppose you want me to apologize.”

She nods. “Yes, I do. Sooner rather than later.”

I watch as Mom walks out of the room, leaving me alone. It’s her way of making the apology my own decision, as if she’s not forcing me to do it. I close the door again and lean my head back against the stall door.

I know I’m being irrational. All Mexican boys aren’t like Marco, just like all Mexican American girls aren’t like me. Actually, most Mexican girls I know speak Spanish and have at least a few other Mexican neighbors. I don’t. Maybe I judged Luis harshly, but then again, I probably pegged him perfectly.

I hear the door open and the
tap-tap-tap
of more heeled shoes on the bathroom floor.

“Omigod, I can’t believe that girl who danced like a freak
kicked
Luis and left him on the dance floor!” I hear one of the girls say.

I didn’t kick him. I used my knee, but I’m not about to clear up her little mistake. Not now, at least.

“Did you get a glimpse of his lips?” the other girl says. “Yum.”

I roll my eyes.

“I know, right? I told him I’d help heal his wounds. I’m meeting him over by the pier in five minutes. I’ll bring back a report on how kissable his lips
really
are.”

There’s a pause, so I peek through the little space between the door and stall. The Omigod girl is pushing up her boobs to make her cleavage pop out of her dress like butt cheeks. She turns to her friend. “How do I look?”

I take that as my cue to come out of the stall and show myself. As soon as they realize they aren’t alone, they look at me, then at each other. I pretend to fix my hair and makeup in the big mirror right next to them.

I decide to give them my two cents. Not because they asked for it, but because they need it.

“Beware of guys who look like Luis,” I say. “Guys like that will use you, then leave you when someone else comes along.”

Omigod girl puts her hand on her hip and looks me up and down. “What makes you think I actually care?”

“I’m just trying to help. You know, girl bonding and all that.”

“Girl bonding?” the girl says in a mocking tone. “I don’t bond with girls who dance like they’re having a seizure. And I don’t hate guys, like you obviously do.”

Her friend is laughing now. Omigod girl joins her. They’re laughing at me, just like the girls were at Malnatti’s the night I saw Marco kissing Mariana Castillo. I shouldn’t care, but I do.

I walk out of the bathroom, leaving Omigod girl and her friend to gossip on their own.

I don’t hate guys. I’m just … cautious.

My mom stops me as I pass her. “Did you apologize to Luis yet?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I was just about to,” I say quickly, then attempt a fake search for Luis.

I wander up and down the beach, taking my time heading back to the party. The lick of the waves against the shore and the fresh smell of the air brings me back to the day I told Marco I loved him …

The night I found out I was pregnant.

I’d do anything not to see the disappointment and horror on my parents’ faces when they learn that their fifteen-year-old daughter got knocked up by the ex-boyfriend they’d never liked. At some point I need to tell them the truth: that I took a pregnancy test and it came out positive, but just thinking about it makes me want to cry.

While the party is still going strong into the night, I sit on a rock far down the beach and look out at the seemingly endless expanse of water. I sit for a long time, listening to the faint music coming from the wedding. Every now and then I get a stomach cramp that hurts like crazy, but it slowly eases as I breathe in and out with smooth, controlled breaths.

Enough sulking, Nikki. Get up and move on … literally and figuratively,
a voice inside my head instructs.

I stand up and head back to the party. As I’m walking and thinking about how I’m going to gather up the nerve to apologize to Luis, then go home and have the dreaded talk with my parents, I trip on something soft. I look down and realize I just tripped on clothes. Guy clothes … namely a tuxedo.

I look around and see two silhouettes kissing in the water.

Luis and Omigod girl. Her annoying squeal echoes through the air. I can tell she’s with Luis because … well, every time I glanced at him tonight, his image was etched in my brain. Even in shadow, I instinctively know it’s him.

I can’t believe he can fool around with Omigod girl knowing that she’s just a one-night stand. I realize I’m angry with Marco and transferring my emotions onto Luis, but they’re too similar.

Evil thoughts are running through my mind, like snatching his tuxedo so he’s left without clothes. I shouldn’t do it.

But then again …

Without really thinking it through for fear I’ll lose my nerve, I snatch up Luis’s tuxedo jacket, shirt, pants, boxers, and shoes. I take Luis’s wallet from his pocket and leave it in the sand. No use in having him think I stole his wallet, after all.

I toss the clothes behind a rock and head back to the reception area. I wish I could see his face when he has to search, all naked, for his clothes. I left them where he can easily find them … in the light of day. He’s gonna have to work for it in the moonlight.

Yes! For the first time in weeks, I feel empowered.

“Yo, Nik,” Ben says. “Mom and Dad have been looking for you. We’re about to leave.”

Mom and Dad say their good-byes to practically everyone at the wedding. I stand behind them and add my polite thanks to theirs, without a hint that I’ve just stashed Luis’s tux where he might not find it.

“What were you doing on the beach?” Ben asks me as I get into Dad’s car.

“Apologizing to Luis,” I lie. Obviously I didn’t do that much damage to his lower region if he was fooling around an hour later.

Dad pulls out of the parking lot, down the winding driveway, past the house where the wedding was held, and then onto the small road leading away from a neighboring hotel the guests are probably staying at tonight. Ben, sitting beside me, is busy playing with some app on his phone.

Looking out the window, I see a naked Luis holding his wallet over his crotch while trying to sneak into the hotel. He freezes when we pass, probably hoping to avoid being noticed.

But I notice him.

And he notices me.

With a genuine smile that hasn’t crossed my face in forever, I roll down my window and give him a small private wave.

Instead of being embarrassed, he drops the wallet and salutes me with one hand and waves back to me with the other.

Which means he’s fully exposed.

Don’t look at anything but his face, Nikki. Whatever you do, don’t give him the satisfaction of scanning down.

In the end, Luis Fuentes gets the best of me. I couldn’t help but look. His body is leaner and more ripped than Marco’s, and seeing him in all his glory definitely showcases their differences.

“I’m glad you apologized to Luis,” Mom chimes in quietly when we’re almost home.

“Yep,” I tell her.

Any tiny ounce of glee I might have fades as my stomach clenches again. And again. I feel like I’m going to throw up. A dizziness washes over me, and I close my eyes until Dad pulls into our driveway.

Mom turns around and frowns when we’re home. “Don’t embarrass us like that again. You’re not trash, so don’t act like it.”

I grab the handle and ease myself out of the car. A sharp pain in my side makes me wince. “I know,” I manage to say through clenched teeth.

“You know how to act like a lady,” Mom says.

I just need to throw up, then I’ll be fine. Ben has already booked it into the house. I can’t talk because I’m afraid I’ll lose the entire contents of my stomach right here.

Mom sighs in frustration. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, young lady.”

“Sorry, Mom,” I force myself to say. “I’m just … not feeling good.”

I walk upstairs, but I stop when my stomach clenches and I keel over in pain. I suck in a breath, not being able to stand it. It feels like something is cutting me open from the inside.

“You okay?” Mom asks as she comes up behind me. “What’s wrong, Nikki?”

“I don’t know.” I look at her and know I can’t lie any longer. Especially when I feel a trickle of wetness running down my inner thigh. My heart is racing and I’m feeling faint. Another shot of pain runs right through me.

My knees buckle, and I curl up in the fetal position at the top of the stars because it hurts so bad.

“Raul!” my mom screams.

My dad is kneeling at my side in an instant. “Nikki, where’s the pain?” he asks just like a doctor would, but with a hint of panic behind his words. He’s a surgeon, but I bet he’s not prepared for this.

I can’t delay the truth any longer.

I don’t look into either of their faces as I cry in a soft whisper, “I’m pregnant … and I think something’s really wrong.”

Now I can see blood trickling down my leg.

Mom gasps, then holds on to the railing for support.

My dad stares at me with eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He’s completely stunned for a second, as if time has stopped, but quickly snaps out of it as reality sets in. “All right. Let’s get you to the hospital,” he says, not in a panic but like a doctor with a purpose. He picks me up and carries me down the stairs while Mom calls our neighbor and asks her to come over to stay with Ben.

My parents help me get in the front seat while the pain increases with every second that passes. In the car on the way to the hospital, I glance at my dad. I’ve never seen him look this worried or sad. When I started hanging out with Marco almost daily, he warned me to stay away from him.
That boy is nothing but trouble
, he’d said one day when he came home to find us making out in the pool in our backyard.
I don’t want you hanging around with him
.
He’ll get you into trouble.
Mom agreed with him.

I thought they were judging Marco just because he lived on the south side. I was wrong.

I look over at my dad. He’s got a death grip on the steering wheel, and he’s focused on the road.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I say over and over as the pain gets sharper and sharper.

He sighs heavily. “I know.”

“Do you hate me?” I hold my breath, waiting for the answer.

“I’m disappointed in you, Nicolasa,” he says, calling me by my formal name he never uses unless he’s really upset. He doesn’t say anything more than that.

“No matter what, we love you,” Mom says encouragingly from the backseat. “How did this happen? When? Where? We don’t condone—”

“Maria, not now,” Dad tells her.

Mom stops her questions, but they linger in the air between us.

At the hospital, Dad makes sure I get admitted immediately. They do all these blood tests, and the specialist, Dr. Helene Wong, orders an ultrasound. I’m trying to hold in my tears, but it’s no use. After the ultrasound, Mom holds my hand. She doesn’t say much. I think she’s too scared and shocked to say anything, so she lets Dad and the other doctors do all the talking.

After Dr. Wong orders a second ultrasound and I’m put on an IV, Mom sits on one side of my hospital bed and Dad sits on the other. The doctor is standing next to them with my test results in her hand.

“You have an ectopic pregnancy,” she says, then explains why I need to have emergency surgery because they suspect my fallopian tube has started to rupture. Mom has her hand over her mouth as tears fall down her cheeks. Dad nods stiffly as he listens to Dr. Wong.

“What’s going to happen to my baby?” I ask in a panic.

Dr. Wong touches my shoulder. “There’s no way to save the baby,” she explains.

I start crying again. The second I realized that I was really and truly pregnant, I’d hoped that the pregnancy wasn’t real. Did my negative thoughts make my body reject the baby? Deep sorrow and a mountain of guilt that I know I’ll carry around forever settle in my gut.

Another wave of pain hits, and I grab my stomach.