As I drifted off toward math class, I felt warm and fuzzy. Happy. I’d never felt like this before, and I was sure my gut reaction was right. Everything was going to be okay. Ashley and I would see this through. After school, I tried to convince her to go back to the clinic with me. I wanted to sit down and talk some more with Dr. Benson—more about pregnancy and about the possibility of not giving up the baby. Ashley just shook her head. “I have to talk to my parents first. I owe them that.” All of a sudden that warm fuzzy feeling was gone. “I understand,” I said. “Can I talk to them with you?” “No,” she said. “That wouldn’t be good. I need to do this myself.” So I walked her home, but I didn’t walk her up to her door. That night, the shit hit the fan. The phone rang, and it was Ashley’s father. He talked to my dad at first. All I could hear was the conversation on this end. My father was trying to be polite, but Mr. Walker must have been screaming. This was not good.
