Target on Our Backs
Page 58

I don't know what to say as I stare at her, absorbing those words. She's never made quite so much sense before. She does heavy better than I thought.
"Guess all those classes are paying off," I mumble. "You'll be the greatest philosopher of our generation."
She laughs. "I'm pretty sure Kanye already holds that title. Haven't you heard?"
I smile at that. "I'm sure we've all heard."
"So, yeah, I know you're fed up or whatever," she says, holding her hand out toward me, to help me up, "but you gotta keep your head up."
I get to my feet, shaking my head. "Tupac."
"Who happens to be the greatest philosopher of the twentieth century," she says. "Screw Wittgenstein and Sellers and Rawl… Pac is where it's at."
I appreciate her trying to lighten the mood, and it almost works, almost distracts me from reality, but a loud banging coming from the dorm room overshadows everything.
Oh my God.
I push right past Melody, darting into the room, almost knocking Kimberly over as the girl heads for the door. She backs up, hands up, muttering angrily, but I don't listen to what she's saying.
Yanking the door open, my heart stops.
It stops for just a second.
It's the worst pain I've ever felt.
It's like the world stopped turning, nothing more existing, before everything kick-starts back into gear. It nearly knocks the breath from my lungs when I see him standing right there.
Naz.
He doesn't move. I don't give him a chance to come inside. The rush of emotions, of adrenaline, of hormones, is just too much to bottle up. I let out a cry as I fling myself at him, knocking into him hard, shoving him further out into the hallway.
He's here.
He's alive.
He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around me.
He holds me tight.
"California," I mumble against his chest.
He's quiet for a moment before asking, "What about it?"
"That's where I wanna go."
Another moment of silence. His hand comes to rest in my hair, pinning me against him as he kisses the top of my head. "If that's what you want."
It is.
It's all a blur after that. Naz thanks Melody. I'm too much of a mess to say anything. We leave and walk right out of the dorms, his hands never leaving me. His car is haphazardly double parked out front. It's pitch black out. Midnight? Maybe later.
The clock keeps on continuing to tick.
It brought him back to me this time.
He opens the passenger door but I stall there, clutching tightly to his hand, not getting in. Tears continue to stream from my eyes, and I really want to stop them, but son of a bitch... I can't.
He pauses, too, using his free hand to brush the tears from my face. "Hey, now... it's okay. I told you I'd be back."
"I know, but—"
I can't even finish.
I just cry harder.
My chest hurts just as much with that void again filled. Now it feels like it's going to burst, like there is not enough of me to contain all of this. My world is shipwrecked and I'm clinging to that goddamn plank, desperate to believe there's enough room for both of us to hold on. But my shoulders are heavy, too much weight pressing on my chest, and if I don't unburden myself really fucking quickly, I'm going to drown.
"But—?"
"I'm pregnant."
I blurt it so fast that it sounds like one jumbled word, a word that carries the weight of the world. Pregnant. I can feel the pressure on me lessening. Secrets are hard to keep. I've only known for a few hours myself, but every second that passed it ate away at me.
This isn't how I wanted to tell him.
I didn't know how to tell him, period, but this? This isn't how it's supposed to be. I'm not supposed to blurt it out in a bout of frightened tears.
I don't know how he's going to react. Don't know if he'll be happy, or angry, or just as shocked as me. We weren't trying. We haven't really talked about it. I was still on the pill, but I kept forgetting to take it, and I'd try to catch up later, but a lot of good that did.
Pregnant.
A baby.
Ugh, I'm gonna be sick again.
He stares at me.
And stares at me.
And stares at me some more.
I really need him to say something, but he just keeps staring, like maybe he didn't hear me. Did he? I almost blurt it out again, but I'm still crying, and the words just aren't forming like I want them to.
He stares so hard I think he burned right through to my soul, before he tugs on my hand, pulling me closer, and says, "Get in the car."
That's it.
That's all the reaction I get.
I listen and finally let go of his hand, climbing in the car. This isn't the place for it. He shuts the door for me, and I put on my seatbelt, my hands shaking. Ugh, I wish they'd stop. I wipe away my tears and try to pull myself together, expecting we'll have a conversation any second, but instead he just gets in and drives away without a word.
I'm trembling the whole way to Brooklyn.
I don't know what to make of anything.
He pulls into the garage when we arrive, locking the car up, and ushers me through the side door, into the kitchen. Killer starts barking excitedly when he sees me, jumping up and down, nearly knocking me on my ass. I head to the back door, letting him out into the yard, and am considering heading right upstairs when Naz appears behind me. I see his reflection in the glass. "How sure are you?"
Turning, I eye him warily. "On a scale of one to ten?"
He studies my face before saying again, "How sure are you, Karissa?"
"Uh, pretty sure, I guess... as sure as I can be. I haven't, like, peed on a stick or anything..."
"Then how do you know?"
There's a hint of anger in his voice then. He's trying to restrain it, but it's coming out.
"Because the doctor said I was."
"The doctor."
"Yeah, when we were at the hospital."
"At the hospital."
"He ran some tests or whatever, and I guess he kind of just happened upon it."
"He happened upon it."
He's doing it again.
Repeating my words.
"Yes," I say. "He happened upon it."
Naz nods, crossing his arms over his chest, his stance almost defensive, like he's trying to keep me from getting in. His face is still passive, even stoic, but his eyes are blazing. "How far along?"
"Eight weeks."
"So... two months."
He looks away from me, taking a deep breath, like he's trying to steady himself.
"You're angry."
"I am."
Ugh, he's not denying it.
"Yeah, well, maybe you're not the only one."
I try to storm away, but he grabs ahold of me, pulling me to him instead. My instinct kicks in, and I start to fight him, shoving and trying to get around him, but he just tightens his hold, pinning me there.
I give in right away.
When Naz wants something, he gets it, and truthfully, I feel better in his arms. He might be angry for whatever reason, but I'm terrified.
"A month ago," he says quietly. "I choked you."