Cheryl
“You’re slacking today, Cheryl!” Anna yelled from across the tennis court.
I bent over, gripping the left side of my stomach, trying to catch my breath.
“My stomach hurts for some reason,” I muttered, turning to fetch the ball.
Anna smirked. “Are you pregnant?” she teased.
“Oh, f**k off,” I huffed, smacking the ball back at her.
We played a few more rounds before the pain in my stomach sharpened. It was bad. Worse than before.
“Are you okay? Should I call Chris to come get you?” Anna asked, concern lacing her voice.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll stay a little longer and play with Grace,” I waved her off.
She had a weekend date lined up before we headed to Harvard for the summer.
“You look like you’re about to pass out. This is why you don’t take drinks from your stepbrother,” she s
