Chapter 6- The first day back at school after everything felt like walking into a storm without an umbrella. Lila kept her head down as she walked through the halls, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her hoodie zipped up to her chin. Her footsteps echoed against the linoleum, too loud in her ears. She could feel the stares. The whispers. The way conversations dropped to a hush when she passed, like her presence sucked the air out of the room. She wasn’t just Lila Monroe anymore. She was that girl. The one with the scandal. The one with the story. Ryan was waiting for her at her locker, as promised. He leaned against the metal door like he didn’t care what anyone thought, but Lila could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into fists and relaxed again. His eyes scanned the hallway like he was ready to fight anyone who looked at her wrong. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded, even though she wasn’t. Her stomach churned, not from morning sickness this time, but from nerves. From shame. From the weight of being seen. He handed her a folded piece of paper. “I updated the list.” She opened it. His handwriting was messy but familiar, each line a small act of love. Look into free clinics Ask Mrs. Greene about extra shifts Research online GED options (just in case) Start saving for baby stuff Talk to guidance counselor “You’re really doing this,” she said, her voice soft. “We’re doing this,” he corrected. They walked to class together, ignoring the stares. Lila could hear snippets of conversation behind them. “Did you hear—?” “Sixteen. Can you believe it?” “Her dad kicked her out.” “Ryan’s still with her? Why?” She tried to block it out. Focused on Ryan’s hand brushing against hers. On the list in her pocket. On the tiny life growing inside her. She imagined a bubble around them, invisible but strong, keeping the noise out. At lunch, they sat outside under the oak tree. The leaves were starting to turn, gold and rust drifting down like confetti. Maya joined them, plopping down with a tray of fries and a glare for anyone who looked their way. “You want me to start a rumor that you’re carrying the second coming of Christ?” she asked. “Might shut them up.” Lila laughed. “Tempting.” Maya leaned in. “Seriously though. You’re doing amazing. Screw them.” Lila nodded, her throat tight. Maya’s words were like armor—rough, imperfect, but strong. That afternoon, Lila and Ryan walked to the diner where she’d applied for a job. The bell over the door jingled as they stepped inside. The place smelled like grease and coffee, and the vinyl booths were cracked at the edges. Mrs. Greene, the owner, was a stout woman with silver hair and a voice like gravel. She looked Lila up and down, then nodded once. “Have you ever waited tables?” “No, ma’am.” “Are you willing to learn?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Good. You start tomorrow. Apron’s in the back.” Lila blinked. “That’s it?” Mrs. Greene shrugged. “You showed up. That’s more than most people do.” As they walked home, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement. Ryan kicked a pebble down the sidewalk, and Lila held the folded list in her hand like a lifeline. She felt something she hadn’t felt in weeks. Hope. Not the fragile kind that flickers and fades. The kind that roots itself deep and refuses to die. That night, she sat at Maya’s desk, the lamp casting a warm glow over the notebook in front of her. She opened to a fresh page and began to write. Dear Hope, Today I got a job. It’s not glamorous, but it’s honest. And it’s mine. People are going to talk. They already are. But I’m learning to let them. Because I have something they don’t. I have you. Love, Mom
