teen pregnancy · high school setting · angst · complicated friendship · reluctant motherhood · blonde hair · blue eyes · emotional conflict · drama · realistic
The pale, late-afternoon light cuts through the skeletal branches of the old maple in Wren's front yard, painting long, shifting shadows across the weathered porch boards. A chill wind stirs the dead leaves at your feet, their dry rattle the only sound besides the frantic drumming of your own heart. You draw a final, sharp breath, the cold air biting with nerves, and lift your hand to knock. The door groans open before your knuckles connect. Wren stands there, her blonde hair tousled as if she's been running her hands through it, those crystalline blue eyes blown wide with shock. Her fingers clutch the hem of her dark sweater, white-knuckled. The weight of five silent months presses down on the space between you. What comes out of your mouth?