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my stomach. Like every two minutes.

I keep almost catching her, but every time I look over, she does that thing people do when they suddenly look away and pretend they’re not watching you.

“Broccoli, Anne?” she asks, passing it to me. I shake my head and put the bowl down without taking any, and Madge’s eyebrows shoot up so high I swear they’re going to take flight. I bite my lip and consider. Is this the face of an overly controlling stepmother or a woman concerned with the nutrition of my unborn child?

I swallow a crazed giggle. The paranoia is making me downright manic.

On a whim, I jump up from the table and grab a Coke from the fridge. My stomach flops over as I head back into the dining room and pop open the can. Madge jumps like it’s the sound of gunfire, and her lips go white as she presses them into a straight line.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She can’t know. I’m being paranoid.

“Delicious as ever, Madeleine,” my dad says, getting up and planting a kiss on Madge’s forehead. She smiles up at him, but it’s a sad smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks over at me as my dad leaves the room. “Would you help me clean up please, Anne?”

Sophie starts reaching for dishes, but Madge puts her hand on her arm. “I need a few minutes with Anne, please.”

Fuck.

I slump in my chair as Sophie scurries out of the room. My life is over.

The second Sophie clears the doorway, Madge is on me. “I cannot believe you’ve gotten yourself into this situation.” Her words are heavy and dark, and they press down on me, pinning me to my chair.

I blink at her while the enormity of what she’s said sinks in, and then my mind goes wild. I’m cursed. First Scott, then school and Courtney and Facebook, and now Madge. Why can’t I get two freaking seconds of peace to figure things out? I want to run away and hide in my room, but Madge knows and she’s going to tell my dad and I’m not ready for any of this. I put my head in my hands to try to hold my brain together.

“So it’s true, then,” she says, heaving a sigh and slumping in her chair. “I’d hoped it was just an online rumor.”

“Online . . . â€ť A terrible thought worms its way into my head. “Sophie.”

I flash back to the day she added me on Facebook. Of course. She saw the whole thing play out online. Something cracks open inside me. Sophie watched me being attacked and never once came to my defense or tried to talk to me about it. She just ratted me out to her mother instead. What happens on Facebook stays on Facebook.

“She saw something on the computer and let me know. You should be thanking her. You’re in way over your head.” Her message is clear: I’m a stupid kid who played at grown-up things.

I let my head fall forward so it’s resting on the table. I just want to give up. My life is a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

“How could you let this happen, Anne? You’re supposed to be smarter than this. Your father is always going on and on about what a smart girl you are and what a good head you’ve got on your shoulders.” Madge stands up and starts pacing the room, throwing words at me like daggers. She’s enjoying this, I realize. I’ve let her win. I’ve finally proved that I’m the screwed-up kid she always believed I was.

She pauses and turns triumphantly toward me. “What do you think would happen if I told your father about this?”

I shrug, refusing to show her the fear she’s hungry for.

“Shall we tell him, then?”

I nod with as much dignity as I can muster and move to get up, but she puts her arm out to stop me and searches my face. “You’re really prepared to do that?”

What the fuck? “Yes. I mean . . . No. Do I have a choice?”

“There are always choices.” She sits down beside me, pinning me with her gaze. “Your father would be heartbroken, you know. And men are unpredictable. If he’s brought into this, it might limit your choices.”

“What choices?”

“Men don’t always understand the challenges we women face. I’m presuming you recognize that you are in no position at sixteen to be raising a baby. Correct?”

I duck my head in response.

“Good. Which then leaves you with two choices . . . having the baby and putting it up for adoption, or having an abortion. If your father gets a say, I’m not sure abortion will still be on the table.”

My mouth falls open in horror.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, Anne. Surely you’ve thought of that possibility.” She takes a deep breath. “Listen, being a mother is not an easy road, even for those of us who do things in the right order and at the correct age. You are in no position to care for a baby. You can’t even manage to take care of yourself.”

Why isn’t she marching me into my dad’s office and exposing me as a total fuckup? Madge doesn’t give a shit about me, I know that.

“Why would you help me?”

She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve worked very hard to build a life with your father, Anne. A baby in this house would be a disaster, and I couldn’t bear to see what it would do to your dad.”

I watch her face, looking for signs that she’s lying. That she’s trying to trap me.

“What about adoption?” I don’t want to admit it, but I’ve been thinking more and more about having an abortion. The whole problem could just go away. I could go back to being Annie again. I could even pretend that I was never pregnant and that this was all a big misunderstanding.

Madge cocks her head to one side, as though she’s talking to a young child. “A noble alternative, sure, but

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