Page 17 of Pieces (Cedar Lakes University #3)

Chapter sixteen

Daphne

Today is a mess. No, scratch that, it’s a royal fucking mess. I’m a mess. I slept through my alarm, missed my first class, didn’t have time for breakfast, and now I’m so far behind, I might as well give up and go back to bed, which is all I really want to do, anyway.

It’s lunchtime, but it feels like I’m late for that, too. All the good cafeteria food is gone. I’d been dreaming of that hot, melted grilled cheese on white bread all morning, but there’s none left. My chest tightens as I stare at the bland, dry salad in my lap. Why did I pick rabbit food? I don’t want rabbit food.

A prickle stings my eyes. I try to blink it away, but the urge to cry swells.

Sniffling, I stand and toss the salad container into the trash with more force than necessary. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and Liv’s name flashes on the screen.

“Girl,” she says the moment I answer, her voice high-pitched and dramatic. “I am dyinggggggg.”

“Oh no,” I say, wincing at the thought. “Are you sick again?”

“No, not sick, not after that exorcism at your house. My period is kicking my butt,” she groans.

I exhale, relieved. “Thank god. I can’t handle any more food poisoning stories after that.” Truly, it’s been a week, and I’m still not feeling back to my normal self yet, but I put it down to being insanely busy at school.

“You know what I did today?” she whines. “I cried in my history class. Like full-on sobbing. Snot, sniffling, everything. They were showing pictures of old people, and now I feel like I’m about to cry again. What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” I say, sitting back down under my favorite oak tree, the earth cools beneath my jeans. “You know how emotional we get when we’re on our periods. It’s just hormones.”

There’s a muffled honk as she blows her nose. “How are you holding up?” she asks. “You usually finish yours before me. You’re probably all cried out by now, right?”

I open my mouth to answer, but a strange thought cuts me off. “Oh, uh…mine wasn’t…” I trail off, the words sticking in my throat, and suddenly that chill from the ground travels all over my body.

Liv sniffs again. “Wasn’t what?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, but my mind is already spiraling. When was the last time I had my period? My stomach tightens as I start flipping through the mental calendar in my head. I remember using a light pad this month because I used the last one and bought more from the drugstore. And I feel insanely bloated, so maybe my dates are mixed up.

“Wait,” Liv’s tone sharpens despite her groggy, emotional state. “What do you mean ‘wasn’t’? You better not be telling me your period didn’t kill you this month. I’ll hate you forever.”

Her attempt at humor barely registers. I’m too busy trying to remember. Did I have one last month? All I can remember is how many late nights I’m pulling to make sure I keep ahead on my classes and keep up with my schedule, but…did it come? A faint knot of panic starts forming in my chest.

“Daph? Hello? Earth to Daphne,” Liv presses.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” I shake my head. “I don’t know, Liv. I think maybe I’m stressed.”

There’s a pause on the line, long enough for me to focus on the chatter of other students milling around the quad around me.

“Stressed, as in tired and exhausted and missed your period stressed?”

I swallow the thorns wedging into my throat. “Yeah, maybe I’ve taken on too much.”

“But…you had a period, right?”

Biting my lip, I say, “I think so, maybe like a light one-day thing? See, I’m stressed, aren’t I?”

“Are you sure that’s what this is?” she asks, concern lacing her words.

“I think so?” God, I know I don’t sound convincing.

“Daph, you hardly ever miss periods. I know, because we sync and suffer together.”

My palms feel sweaty as I rub my legs over my jeans. I drop my voice, lowering my head. “I’ve just been skipping my eight hours of sleep, and the whole school thing is a lot to figure out. I mean, you know, you’re doing it too.”

“Yeah, but my period still graced me with its presence, sadly,” she says with a huff.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I hum to myself, feeling unsettled.

Liv sucks in a sharp breath. “I don’t wanna say it, babe, but Daphne. Are you…?”

“No,” I rush out, almost pleading this time. “I’m not. I just… I don’t know right now.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I can practically feel her squinting at me through the phone. “Daph,” she says finally, her voice careful. “You remember everything like a lion.”

“It’s an elephant.”

“Huh?” she says.

“An elephant remembers everything.”

“Okay, well, that’s what you are, and you’re telling me you can perfectly remember your first kiss with Bradley Clarke in third grade, but you can’t remember if you skipped your period this month after you lost your virginity?” she cries, her voice rising along with my panic. “Oh my god, you used condoms, right?”

“Of course we did. Both times,” I manage to say, even though the air is disappearing rapidly around me. My period has never been something I could just ignore. I usually pop painkillers like candy and use heating pads at night to help with the cramps, so why the heck can’t I remember? I counted backward, my mind racing. Seven, almost eight weeks, since the concert. That night, Hudson’s smile, his hands… My stomach twists. Oh god, it can’t be...

“Okay,” I mumble, my voice muffled by my hands. “Maybe I’ll…check. Just to be sure.”

“Yeah, you should definitely check,” Liv says. “And then call me back immediately, because if I’m gonna be an aunt, I need to be the first to know.”

Hearing her mention being an aunt knocks the little remaining air right out of me. That can’t be. No, it’s not possible. It’s not. Because if she’s joking about being an aunt, then that makes me a…

“Liv.” My voice trembles as a wave of dizziness washes over me. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she says quickly, shifting into her calm voice. “Daph, it’s going to be okay. Breathe for me, alright?”

I try, but my chest feels like it’s caving in. My breath stutters out, shallow and uneven, as I lean forward.

“I’m serious, Daph. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re fine. Everything’s fine,” Liv coaxes, the kind of steadiness in her voice that only comes after years of talking me off cliffs. Ones not usually quite this steep and terrifying; they’re usually academic, but not this time. “Do it with me: one, two… Yeah, like that. Better?”

“Not really,” I admit, pressing my hand against the tree trunk to ground myself. “Liv, what if I am? What if—”

“Don’t go there yet,” she interrupts, firm but kind. “You don’t know anything for sure. And even if you are, which, honestly, you’re probably not, you have been stressed, but guess what? You’re not alone. I’ve got you. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Her words should feel comforting, but the weight in my chest only seems to grow. Because if it’s true…it’s not just about me. And I don’t even know where Hudson lives. And oh my god, my parents are going to murder me.

I can’t even focus on the few students around me as I bring my knees up and bury my head between them, muffling a sob. I shake my head, though she can’t see me, and my voice wobbles as I respond. “Liv, I… I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” she says immediately. “You’re just scared, and that’s totally normal. But you don’t have to figure it all out at once, okay? One step at a time.”

“I know, but…” I trail off, wiping the tears cooling my cheeks as I stand to head back to my dorm. “What if I can’t handle what it says? I’ll be a fucking statistic in teen pregnancies!”

“You don’t have to handle it right now. Just get the test. Once you know, we’ll talk. FaceTime me or call me or text me. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

The warmth of her assurance wraps around me like a hug, and for a second, I feel like I can breathe again. “Okay,” I whisper. “And I’ll call you after.”

“You better,” she says, her voice lightening a little. “And no matter what, we’re handling this together. Got it?”

I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Got it.”

Except I really don’t think I got it.

***

An hour later, and I’ve blown off my afternoon class. It was AP calculus anyway, and that usually gives me a migraine. Given that I already have one of those, I figured I’m making the right call.

Liv texted me as soon as she hung up and reminded me to go to a drugstore away from campus in case I see anyone from school at the local one.

That left me heading in the opposite direction of everything familiar, toward a town I’d never been to before: Pine Hollow. It’s tiny, according to my phone maps, with one main street, a few side roads, and not much else. But it has a pharmacy, and that’s all I care about.

The bus ride is long and bumpy, and my anxiety only grows the closer I get. Even though it only takes an hour, it might as well be an eternity. Every jolt of the wheels feels like a reminder of what I’m doing, what I’m about to find out. My leg bounces restlessly as I glance out the window, watching unfamiliar storefronts and houses blur past.

When the bus finally lurches to a stop, I step off on shaky legs. The town is quiet, freakily so, but it’s also kinda cute. If I wasn’t having an internal crisis, then I’d appreciate the little organic general store across the road next to the florist.

The pharmacy is easy to spot: a small brick building with charming window boxes. My palms are damp as I walk up to the door, hesitating for a second before stepping inside.

The air smells faintly of disinfectant and cinnamon, like someone sprayed air freshener to mask the medicinal scent. It’s empty except for a middle-aged woman behind the counter, flipping through a magazine, and an older man in the corner browsing vitamins. Neither of them looks up as I enter, which is a small mercy.

I duck into the feminine care aisle, keeping my head down as I scan the shelves. There they are: rows of neatly stacked boxes with words like Rapid Results and Early Detection . I grab one at random, then two, because Liv would probably tell me to “double-check, just in case.”

At the counter, the woman glances up and smiles politely. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

She rings me up without comment, but as I slide my card through the reader, I swear I can feel her eyes lingering. I force myself to meet her gaze, expecting judgment, but all I see is boredom. She hands me the bag without a word, and I mutter a quick, “Thanks,” before practically sprinting out the door.

Outside, the cold air hits my face, and I suck in a deep breath, clutching the plastic bag like it’s a ticking time bomb.

One step at a time.