My Teenage Dream Ended (20 page)

He said, “Okay.”

When we got to the drugstore, he parked and said, “I’ll wait out here.”

I told him, “No. You’re coming in with me and you’re buying my things. You didn’t pay for my dad’s bail so you’re going to buy me something instead.”

So we both went in together and I made him pay for a bunch of cosmetics and toiletries. The total came to fifty-something dollars. Derek turned to me and made a face, like it was too expensive, but I said, “Well, bailing my dad out would have cost a lot more.” He pulled out his wallet to pay and when he took out the money he turned away from me so I couldn’t see how much he had—so stupid. Then we got in his car and drove up the street to my house. He dropped me off in the alley at my back door, so no one would see us. He even tried giving me a kiss goodbye. I told him to call me later and got out of the car.

When I walked in the door to my house, my dad was right there to meet me. I could tell he was super angry.

“So, did mom come and get you out of jail?” I asked.

“No. I had to call a friend. Who brought you home?”

My dad looked like he went through hell in jail, and clearly still had quite a bit of hostility about it. I figured this was not the right time to be honest. It definitely wouldn’t go over well if I said, “I made Derek come and get me from school because I wanted him to help me bail you out. But he wouldn’t, so I made him buy me makeup instead and then he drove me home.” I figured he knew Derek had brought me home anyway, so I just held that all in and kept walking.

After the arrest, Derek’s mom insisted on pressing charges and things really began to deteriorate in my life. My entire family was mad at me for lying about seeing Derek and inviting him into the house that night. There was more pressure than ever to quit talking to him, especially now that the courts were involved.

I was sad and confused, but deep down I knew the break was needed. I couldn’t handle much more stress. I felt like I was being forced to choose between my parents, who cared for me and were supporting me through this pregnancy, and Derek, whom I loved and was the father of my child. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had to make a choice soon.

IT CAME DOWN TO A LOST PHONE

It was a couple of days after the knife incident, and I was running late for gym class. I had been texting Derek to ask him to convince his mom to drop the charges against my dad. I had sent him a couple of texts saying,
“You need to drop the charges” and “Why are you letting your mom do this?” and was waiting for his response.

I was running late for PE, so I sent one last text and then shoved the phone into my bag, which I stashed under the second bench in the locker room. Class had already started and no one was in the locker room, so I figured it would be safe. I always used to stash my bag under a bench if I was in a rush, which was most of the time.

After class, I hurried back to the locker room to check my phone for a text from Derek. I went to get my bag, but instead of finding it under the bench where I had left it, it was upside down in the middle of the room and all of my belongings were thrown everywhere; my makeup, bracelets, wallet, notes—you name it—all over the locker room floor.

At first I just stood there in shock, but then I remembered why I had rushed in—to see if Derek had texted me back. I started frantically gathering up my stuff, but my phone and bank card were missing. I went into a panic, searching and reorganizing my messed-up bag, picking up as much of my stuff from the floor as I could find.

I ran to the office to report what had happened and ask if the locker room security cameras had been on, but they hadn’t. I called my mom and told her what had happened. I think she was used to hearing bad news from me by now, because she didn’t seem surprised. She said we could cancel the bank card, no problem.

I asked her what I should do about the phone. It was the phone I had bought with Derek the day he left me at the pool. I hadn’t gotten insurance on it and I didn’t have the money to buy a new one. That phone seemed to have brought me nothing but trouble. Honestly, if I hadn’t been so desperate to have a phone, I would have almost been glad it was gone. After all, that pool fight had led to me not telling Derek about the baby.

My mom offered me her old iPhone and said I didn’t have to pay her for it. Her only condition was that I couldn’t give Derek my new phone number. Reluctantly, I agreed.

And, just like that, my choice was made. Now Derek couldn’t call me anymore and I couldn’t call him, or he would be able to get my number. I understood why my mom was forcing me to choose. Lately he had seemed to bring me nothing but trouble; trouble my parents had to bail me out of, trouble I had to bail my parents out of—literally.

It was hard for me to stop trying to work things out with Derek. I really wanted to believe that I would see him at his best again. I wanted him to be like he used to be, when we first fell in love. I wanted him to be with me and our new baby, but I decided to accept my mom’s deal and really keep my distance from Derek—at least for a while.

THE LAST TIME I SAW HIM

Once I had made my decision to stop talking to Derek once and for all, I began to focus on getting my life on track. I was lonely, but more calm and positive now. I worked hard and got all A’s and B’s in both my high school classes and in my college courses.

With Derek out of the picture I thought the tension between my parents and I would go away, but now we argued all the time about the fact that I didn’t have a car. They had become my chauffeurs and they were not happy about it. They would complain, argue, and get annoyed around the whole topic of taking me from one place to another. Hate started settling into our house.

Sometimes I couldn’t help thinking,
Well, if we could just resolve things with Derek, then he would be driving me around right now like he used to.
But no, my dad had to pick me up from school every day, which was a huge inconvenience for him.

One day, I was waiting just inside the school for my dad to pick me up. I was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and my cheerleading jacket—my staple outfit in those days. I was definitely stretching my dollar at this point; no getting a new winter coat, no splurging on clothes anymore.

When I saw my dad pull up, I ambled from the front door to his car. I didn’t like to move too fast. I didn’t want people to think I was trying to not be seen. Although I wasn’t proud that I had gotten pregnant, I didn’t want to give the impression that I felt ashamed either. I have always held my held high, and I wasn’t about to let anyone think that being pregnant had knocked me down.

As I got in the car and shut the door, I looked over into the parking lot and saw Derek getting out of his friend’s car. It was a two-door and he was getting out to let in this girl, who was rumored to smoke weed and get around. I recognized her from school. She was always probing me about what I was up to, and about my pregnancy. Sometimes I would ask her about Derek because they hung out with the same group of stoners.

I noticed Derek was wearing one of my big t-shirts that I had left at his house a couple of months back. I was disgusted and crushed. I had worn that shirt over to his house one morning when he had made me breakfast before school. That was one of those moments when we had been so happy, and I had felt good about us. It felt like he had deliberately chosen to take something good and cover it with a mess. However, as pathetic as it may seem, there was still this voice inside of me that was like,
If he’s wearing my shirt, that must mean I’m still on his mind.

I knew Derek must have seen me walking to my dad’s car, since I had passed right in front of his friend’s car, but he didn’t acknowledge that he had seen me. I was filled with hate. I couldn’t understand how he could just ignore me like that. Who could see their pregnant ex-girlfriend of a year and a half walk right by and just ignore her?

As I drove away with my dad, I felt like crying, but I held the tears back. Our lives were so different now. Derek was going out and partying all the time; he continued to be irresponsible and make immature choices. Here I was, in my dad’s car, abiding by my parents rules. I didn’t get to mess around. I had to take everything seriously. One of us had to start being a parent. It felt like there was this line between us—you stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. I just wished it would stop being like that some day.

From that moment on, I began praying every night because I wasn’t strong enough to deal with everything that was happening to me on my own. I prayed that Derek would get all of his immaturity out of his system so that when I had the baby we could come together and be in the same place in our lives. I prayed like this every night.

I didn’t know it then, but that was the last time I would ever see Derek.

CAKE AND HORMONES

Meanwhile, I had started taking cooking classes for college credit at a technical school a couple of blocks from my high school. I liked cooking because it was solitary. I didn’t have to talk to people, so I didn’t have to judge or be judged. Even though I still wanted to pursue modeling, now that I had a baby on the way I knew that I needed to get a degree so I had something to fall back on. I had always loved cooking and had a lot of experience working at restaurants, so I decided that getting a degree in Culinary Arts would be a good fit for me.

I focused on school and tried hard not to be stressed—besides worrying about saving up money for my baby—but sometimes my hormones got the best of me, especially when I was in class. I would look at other kids my age and see them wasting time or making stupid choices and I wanted to shake them and scream,
Don’t you get that it can all change tomorrow? Don’t you understand that there are more important things in life than gossiping and acting cool?