Tomorrow Will Be Different

Tomorrow Will Be Different (Chapter 1)

It was around 7:00pm.

I was in my car. My mother had continuiously called me, but I ignored them, because I honestly didn't feel like talking to her and telling her where I was . . . she's so overprotective. Why can't she care about where my sister is a night? She's normally out at a rave; but no, she didn't give a rat's ass about Marley. It was all about me. Which normally, someone would die for. Not me.

My name? Rory Jean. I'm sixteen years old. I attend Blacksvale High School, named after some historical guy with the last name Blacksvale. I think he was one of the "founding fathers" of our town. I don't get As in History, so I wouldn't know.

Right now I'm in the school parking lot. I witnessing something I don't think I'll forget. Not now, but I just witnessed it. I watched as my boyfriend, Brian McCormick, just bought a pregnancy test with Wendy Lockhart, and then proceeded to kiss her.

I have no idea what to do. I was driving down to Rite Aid to get a 2-liter bottle of soda. I was walking down the aisle when I heard an unforgettable voice; it was Brian. I turned the corner to check if it was him, and it sure was. I went to the other side of the aisle to look through the cracks of the stands.

I thought for a few minutes about saying "hey baby!" to him. But I changed my mind when he said, "First Response? Does that work?" I know what First Response is. I'm not going to act like I haven't seen the commercials where the lady who looks like she's 30-something is telling you about how it helps you know like 5 days before.

"Babe . . . I don't know. What about this one?" I saw her hold up a completely different box. "It tells you ditigally. So I'll know for sure."

"No way! 20 bucks for a test? Find another one." Brian outbursted.

"Ugh! Your so cheap, like what the hell . . ."

About a minute later, I recongized the voice. It sounded so familiar. I realized it was the voice of Wendy Lockhart, who is the only one in my grade who is open to sleeping with anyone. She goes around and will pick any boy if it means she "gets some". How many guys has she slept with before? Like 100? Hope Brian doesn't catch anything.

Finally, they pick a test. I stalk them up to the counter and hide behind a huge stack of Tootsie Rolls. I peak over and see them checking it out. The cashier grins at them. They could pass for a 20-something married couple, since their so comfortable with PDA.

He's holding her hand, she's cuddling up to him. I'm so confused. I wish I would have stood up, grabbed my soda, and walked up behind him. Oh, so embarrassing that would have been.

But . . . I was in just so much shock. It was so amazing how one minute, you two are in love and he's telling you how much he loves you and how he'll do whatever it takes for me, and then the next, he's buy a pregnancy test, meaning he slept with some girl. How . . . horrifying.

"Expecting?" the cashier asks. Wendy smiles. ". . . maybe."

Brian doesn't smile. He looks horrifyed. He looks scared. He looks . . . freaked out.

Well, I hope she is knocked up. That'll teach him a thing or two about what happens when you sleep with a girl. And I really hope I'm in the back of his mind. I hope he's wondering, "Shit, what have I done? I have another girlfriend. How will I tell her this?"

Now I'm sitting her, crying. I'm drinking my soda, sobbing. I don't want to see his face tomorrow. And the worse thing is, I don't want to break up with him. He's so terrible but I've never broken up with anyone and I don't want to face it. But . . . I know I have to. Soon.

I pick up my phone. 10 missed calls from Mom. She must be worried. I don't want to hear her freaked out voice, so I text her, I'm okay . . . just thinking, I don't want to talk about it. She'll probably text back Where are you? or What happened? Instead of leaving me in peace.

I scroll down my phone contacts. I find his name: Brian. I hit "talk" and it starts ringing. His deep voice comes on.

"Hello?" he says. I just stay quiet. "Rory?"

Still quiet.

"Rory, are you there? Or did you call me on accident?"

Still . . . quiet . . .

He hangs up.

I put my phone down and accept that I have no guts. How am I going to do this?

I accept this. I accept that my boyfriend slept with another woman and I'm the sorry little girl. Ugh, this sucks. I don't know what to do.

MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR *READ*:

Hey! I'm Sarah . . . I just publish this because I used Quizilla (if you've ever heard of it) and someone told me that people will actually READ my stuff here if I post it, and that Quizilla only works out if you are really popular. Since I have noticed this and I'm not very popular, I hope my work will get noticed here.

Sincerly,

Sarah