SundayOh s**t.
Oh God.
Oh s**t.
What the f**k did I just do?
My hands shake as I look down at the white and purple stick. This is the fifth one I’ve used. I don’t think I have enough tears or pee left to do another. I can’t avoid it—it’s true, there in a strong purple plus sign on the pregnancy test in my hand, and the half-dozen other ones in the sink.
It can’t be true, though. This has to be some kind of sick joke. The girls must have replaced the box or are playing a trick on me. They’ve been complete bitches ever since Ricco got a beat down for attempting to drug me in a bar. Most of them aren’t even talking to me outside the shrug or a grunt here and there. I wouldn’t put it past them to find some fake pregnancy tests and place them in our bathroom knowing that I was more than tw
