Sixteenth Summer

I really have no idea what the hell happened. That summer was supposed to be the summer. For the first time ever, I had made friends. Our penny-pinching school had finally sprung for a class-wide trip, the first ever I had been on. Two whole weeks in Disneyworld: nothing but sun, fun, and the hottest girls in my class strutting their stuff in bikinis around the hotel swimming pool. What more could a sixteen-year-old guy ask for?

In hindsight, I think it all started to go wrong six weeks before... on prom night. Again, it was supposed to be one of the greatest nights of our young lives - and it kinda was - but it ended in tragedy. My best buddy, Ricky, never made it home after the dance. He was found on the side of the road a few days later, plowed over by a drunk driver. At least, that's what the police claimed happened. No one ever confessed, and there wasn't enough evidence to make an arrest, so they just... let it go. Losing Ricky like that didn't feel real. Every day for the last month of school, I was sure I'd run into him again in the halls, like it was all some elaborate, stupid prank he cooked up.

The only one who took his death harder than me was Gracie; our other friend. Gracie and me have been in the same class since Kindergarten, but we didn't really become friends until the eighth grade. She was one of those girls who went from dorky to smoking hot over one summer, but she seemed to be the only one unaware of that fact. Maybe it's because she's always been dense and somewhat of a tomboy, but she always turned down the other guys flat when they begged her for dates. I think she just didn't understand why they all wanted to go out with her, and she didn't know how to handle all the attention she was suddenly getting bombarded with.

Back then, I didn't have the confidence to ask her out - and believe me, I wanted to - so I settled for the friend zone. I didn't mind, because she was a pretty cool person, and I genuinely enjoyed hanging out with her. We had the same taste in music, liked the same cheesy sci-fi flicks, and had an equally insatiable love for Hawaiian-style pizza. It was so easy for us, able to talk about anything and everything, going from goofy to serious in a second if we needed to. Freshman year, Ricky and his folks moved into the house next door to mine. In record time we became the Three Musketeers: inseparable, unstoppable, and ready to take on the world together.

But then, all of a sudden, Ricky was gone.

I became Gracie's chief source of comfort after that. During those weeks of consoling her, I realized just how much I loved that girl. She was the one; my one and only. When I found out about the class trip, it was like the pieces all fell into place. I was finally going to tell Gracie how I felt, right in front of Cinderella's castle, and we would officially be together forever.

The first monkey wrench thrown into my plans was the weather. It was pissing rain the entire bus ride from Ohio to Florida, and it only rained harder after we got to the hotel in Orlando. Some of the rides had to be temporarily shut down because of the weather, not that it stopped most of our class from slogging through the park in plastic ponchos anyway. Gracie was not part of that crowd, deciding to hang out in her room instead. She claimed she wasn't feeling well, but I knew better. The whole bus ride down she'd been bluer than the Pacific, bringing up Ricky every chance she got.

Those first few days, I was bound and determined to make sure Gracie had fun. I wanted to take her mind off Ricky, for once, and set the gears in motion for my big move. Every ride I suggested we go on together, she shot down without hesitation, though. It was frustrating and a little confusing; there was not a rollercoaster on earth that girl was afraid of, but suddenly she was avoiding them like the plague. Eventually I was able to talk her onto the teacups, but she complained the whole time that I was spinning our cart too fast (even though I wasn't). Afterwards, she leaned over the side of the cup and puked on the spot.

I wasn't exactly batting a thousand, but I tried to make it up to her as best I could. Nothing could make Gracie smile, though; not rides, or midway games, or even food. I had seen Gracie wolf down three Big Macs in one sitting before, but during that trip she ate like a little baby bird. By the second week, I started to think that maybe she really was sick. That would explain a lot, like why she didn't want to ride any big rides and seemed so tired all the time.

When she refused to come down to dinner again on our last night, I decided to bring her up something from the hotel buffet. They put out these little Mickey Mouse shaped personal pizzas, which I knew she'd go hog wild for. Boys and girls were not supposed to be in each other's rooms unsupervised, but I sneaked across the hall after dinner anyway with my pilfered pies and knocked on the door. I was worried about her, after all, and I wanted to make sure she was okay. To my relief, her roommate Sandy let me in right away, but Gracie did not seem happy to see me at all.

"What're you doing here?!" she hissed. "If the chaperones catch you, you'll be in big trouble!"

"I don't care," I said, and I sort of meant it. "You didn't eat any dinner, so-"

The rest of my sentence died in my throat as Gracie suddenly gagged, covering her mouth and taking a huge step back from me. "Oh my gawd, that reeks!" she groaned, waving her hand at me frantically. "Get those stupid things away from me before I ralph again!"

My heart dropped into my sneakers, not believing what I was hearing. "It's pineapple pizza," I said, confused and more than a little hurt. "You love Hawaiian-style pizza... and look: it looks like Mickey. I thought you liked cutesy stuff like that."

Sandy took the plate from my hands, shaking her head like she knew something I didn't. "You two need to talk," she declared. "I'm going over to Todd and Bradley's room. Text me when he's gone, Gracie."

For the first time ever, Gracie looked like she didn't want to talk to me. By this point, I knew something else was going on here besides her grief over Ricky. It was like she suddenly hated me for no reason, no longer the girl that I was head over heels for. Still, I was bound and determined to make this work, so I made the first move, sitting down on the foot of her bed with my stomach in anxious knots.

"I'm so sorry, Gracie," I said. "I tried so hard to make this the greatest trip ever... but I screwed up. Could you at least tell me what I did to make you so mad, so I can apologize properly?"

Gracie sighed heavily, sitting down on the other bed with her arms crossed. "I'm not mad at you, Jake," she sighed. "You didn't do anything wrong, I promise. It's... It's just..."

I scooted my butt around the corner of the bed to look her in the eye, laying my hand on her knee. "Come on, Gracie," I begged, "you know you can tell me anything. Whatever you're going through, we can tackle it together."

Gracie's lips quivered, tears suddenly shimmering in her eyes. I had never seen her cry before, so seeing her well up now had me very worried.

"No, Jake," she sniffed, "you can't help me... not this time."

My heartstrings threatened to snap at hearing that, but I forced a smile to hide my pain. "Don't be silly," I scoffed, "We can do anything together. I'm sure it's not that big a deal, right?" When she didn't answer right away, I felt my throat grow drier than a sponge under the punishing Florida sun. "R-Right?" I repeated hopefully.

Gracie got up and moved to the other side of the room, stopping in front of the sliding glass balcony doors. For a second, I worried she'd fling them open and run through them, swan-diving off the balcony and onto the asphalt four stories below.

"Jake... I-I'm pregnant."

For all of five minutes, those words had zero meaning to me. Just like Ricky's death, her confession didn't feel real at all. She was only sixteen after all - soon to be seventeen in August - and until now I believed her to be a virgin. In hindsight, I realized that kind of thing was very personal and not at all any of my business. Still, if she'd had a boyfriend and they were that serious, I was sure she would've told me before now.

...Unless...

A rock formed in my throat as I thought back to our time together as the Three Musketeers: Gracie, Ricky, and me. Ricky and Gracie hit it off from day one, becoming friends faster and closer than I ever thought possible. How could I be such an idiot, not to see what was right in front of my face? We weren't the Three Musketeers; it was Gracie and Ricky all along, and I was the stupid, third-wheeling asshat who didn't know any better. Up to the end, I was in denial... and I was still in denial as I sat quaking with anger and shame on her hotel room bed.

"Ricky?" I guessed, hoping to heaven I was wrong.

"Ricky," she nodded, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her pajama top. "I'm so sorry, Jake; it all just happened so fast. We were gonna tell you, after prom, but... B-But..."

My heart ached for her as she broke down in sobs right in front of me. The strongest, toughest, most badass girl I'd ever known, snuffling and sobbing like a little baby. Not that I could ever blame her, of course. Who would, given the position she was in?

"I-I haven't told my parents yet," she sniffled. "They... Th-They're gonna kill me! Ricky's folks don't know either... b-but I know how strict they are! What if they... f-force me to give it up?! I can't do that, Jake! This baby..." She cupped her hands over her stomach, which I only just noticed has a very slight, outward curve to it, then heaved out another sob so violently I thought she'd make herself puke. "...Th-This b-baby is a-all I h-have l-left of h-him!!"

Leaving the shattered pieces of my broken heart on the bed, I hopped up and grabbed Gracie in a hug. As I felt her trembling in my arms - the first and only girl I ever truly loved, crying her eyes out over the douchebag who'd stolen her from me - I almost started crying myself.

"It's... It's gonna be okay, Gracie," I promised, swallowing around the rock in my esophagus. "I'll take care of you. Ricky... R-Ricky would probably want me to anyway."

Within seconds, Gracie stopped crying. I'd heard about mood swings and stuff in movies and TV shows, so I thought that was the case. Or maybe she was just so shocked and overwhelmed with gratitude, she dried up on the spot. After a moment, she slowly pulled out of my embrace and backed away, wiping her nose again awkwardly.

"Wow, Jake," she sniffed, "that's... th-that's very sweet of you to offer... Thanks... b-but no thanks. You and Ricky were tight, I know. What happened wasn't your fault, though... and you shouldn't have to deal with his mistakes now that he... h-he's gone."

"I'm not doing this for him," I insisted, taking her hands in mine. I was a huge idiot for not realizing how they felt for each other, but I still thought I could make things work between us. Before I lost my nerve, I got down on one knee, wetting my dry lips and clearing my throat to preemptively stop my voice from quavering. Not that it did much good.

"Gracie... I love you," I squeaked, my voice cracking like eggshells left out in the sun. "I love you more than anyone or anything else in this world... and I want to marry you... i-if you'll have me, that is."

The look in Gracie's shocked eyes was hard to interpret. I hoped she would see my proposal as romantic, even if it wasn't done in front of Cinderella's castle with fireworks going off overhead like I'd planned. After a few quiet, tense seconds, however, she tore her hands from my grip and stared at me like I was a raving lunatic.

"Are you insane?!" she screeched. "We're only sixteen! I might be knocked up, but I am so not ready for that shit! Especially not with you!"

A flicker of regret crossed her face then, as if she'd only just heard the words that came out of her mouth. While I was still reeling in shock on my knees, she took a deep breath to center herself.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "you're a very... very sweet guy, Jake, and a great friend. I just don't feel that way about you. Even if we were old enough to elope or whatever, marring you would be like marrying my brother. I hope you understand."

I honestly don't remember if I said anything in response. Those words echoed in my ears as i left her room, walking right into the arms of our principal - Mr. Andrews - like a zombie.

"Mr. Gibbs," he grumped, folding his arms across his barrel-like chest skeptically. "Isn't this a surprise? I thought your room was across the hall. Just what do you think you were doing in there?!"

I was so broken-hearted and angry, I just stared at my shoes. "Making an ass out of myself, apparently," I muttered. "Not that it matters. Somebody already milked that cow... and they knocked her up to boot."

Mr. Andrews' eyes widened in shock, but at first I didn't realize why. I'd spoken out of anger, forgetting who I was talking to. By the time it hit me what I'd just done, it was too late to take anything back.

On the bus ride home the following morning, Gracie sat up front between Mr. Andrews and one of the moms chaperoning the trip. When we got back to school, he marched the entire class over to the auditorium and sat us down for an impromptu lecture about safe sex, and the consequences of not taking proper precautions. While he didn't out Gracie by name, he kept giving her stern looks the entire time. By the time I got home and checked my phone, the news about Gracie's pregnancy was plastered all over Twitter and Instagram.

To say she was angry with me was a gross understatement. Gracie didn't speak to me again for the rest of the summer. When Junior year started up again in the fall, I learned that she was being homeschooled because her parents couldn't bear the shame. Gracie came back to school that January, just for a few weeks, but by mid-February she'd decided to just drop out and take care of Ricky Jr. full time.

I'm a junior in college now, and I still think about Gracie and Ricky Jr. from time to time. About what might have been. The other day, I saw the two of them in the grocery store. Gracie's hair was a lot shorter, and Ricky Jr. is a happy, healthy four-year-old now; the spitting image of his dad. The tall, bronze-skinned man shopping with them was good looking, and he seemed to treat Gracie and her son very well. If they saw me, I'm not sure. I never walked over to say hello. I just kept moseying along contentedly with my boyfriend, glad to see that Gracie was smiling again.