Free The Implosion of Aggie Winchester by Lara Zielin

her secret four weeks ago, and that whole time the information had been under wraps. But now it looked like the small dribble of gossip that had started with Ms. Rhone was about to flood the school. I was suddenly dreading Monday.
    “So now you know,” I said to Fitz. “Congrats.”
    “Who’s the dad?”
    In the distance, I heard the clicking and grinding sound of a boat being unhitched from a trailer. “You’ll have to ask Sylvia that.”
    Fitz’s mouth quirked. “Not likely,” he said. “I was hoping you’d just tell me. But if not, that’s cool. I get it. You’re friends.” Fitz’s dark blue eyes looked almost black in the dim light.
    “It’s just not my news to tell, you know?” I said.
    “It’s okay,” Fitz said. “It must be a lot of pressure. For both of you guys. I mean, she’s going to have this kid, and you’re her best friend, so you want to support her. But that’s gotta be weird, I imagine. Because how do you do that. You know? It’s a kid .”
    I stared at Fitz. Exactly , was what I wanted to say. Fitz was the only one who seemed to have half a clue about what I was feeling. And somehow, he’d been able to cut through all the babble and articulate it.
    “You’re pretty smart for a guy who never shuts up,” I said.
    “I choose my words when it’s important,” Fitz said. “When it matters.”
    “Well, nice job just then.”
    “So, you want to fish sometime?” Fitz asked, putting his cap back on his head. “You and me? My dad got one of those Tritons I was telling you about. We’re breaking it in today.”
    “Hang out in a boat with you while you point out all its bells and whistles?” I asked. “No, thanks.”
    Fitz stepped closer. I smelled dryer sheets and warm blankets. “Come on. We’d fish. It would be fun. And I wouldn’t blab about the boat. I told you, I choose my words when it’s important.”
    “Oh, so fishing with me is important?” I asked, thinking I sounded like I was flirting.
    Fitz gave me a small smile. “It could be. My cell’s on the Bass Masters roster, you know.”
    “Yeah, well, so’s mine.”
    Fitz shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know,” he replied. “Your number’s already in my phone.”
    Before I could think about why Fitz already had me in his list of contacts, my dad called to me from the bow of our boat.
    “Aggie—we’re up and running. I need you to direct me while I get the boat down the launch and into the water.”
    “Okay,” I said, “I’m coming.” Fitz was still standing there. “Good luck today,” I said.
    He nodded. “You too. See you in study hall.”
    Thirty minutes later, my dad and I were out on the water. The foamy chop rocked the boat, and the wind whipped through every layer of clothing on my body. But even in the biting cold, instead of hunkering down over my pole, I sat up and scanned the horizon, trying to catch a glimpse of Fitz.

Chapter Ten
    MONDAY, APRIL 13 7:48 A.M.
    “So how was the boat on Saturday?” Sylvia asked on Monday. We’d texted each other that morning, then met in the parking lot so we could walk into school together.
    “Stupid,” I lied. “We froze, and the fish weren’t really biting.”
    “That sucks,” Sylvia said.
    Before we hit the double doors, I grabbed her arm. “Fitz knows about you,” I said, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “He told me Saturday. So that means it’s not just the teachers. I’m going to guess word’s gotten out.”
    Sylvia readjusted her army bag so it was covering more of her belly. She took a breath. “Well, once you told me Ms. Rhone let the cat out of the bag to the other teachers, I figured it was only a matter of time. Thanks for the heads-up, but it is what it is.”
    Sylvia’s face looked less sure than her words sounded. “I’ll beat up anyone who gives you shit,” I said.
    Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Please. You have a hard time hurting centipedes .”
    She pulled open the doors and I followed her,