Free School Ties by Tamsen Parker

soothing motion stops and his hands drop, leaving a trace of the warmth that used to be there. It’s replaced by his voice that’s gone ice cold.
    â€œGet rid of it.”
    â€œI won’t.”
    â€œChrist, Erin, if I had known you were such a right-wing nut job, I never would’ve fucked you.”
    â€œI’m not a right-wing nut job. I just . . .” I can’t explain it. I am firmly pro-choice. Have been for as long as I can remember. Should any of my friends find themselves in this situation and want an abortion, I would support them. I would drive them to the clinic myself. But my baby, inside my body? “I can’t, Will. I’m sorry.”
    â€œSorry is not going to get me out of this hellhole you’ve dug for me.”
    â€œI’m sorry,
I
dug for
you
? You think my job isn’t also on the line?” I don’t mention the violently ill sensation I get when I think about leaving the Hill, like the very center of my universe might suddenly disappear. There’s no way he’d understand. “And I don’t recall being the only person having sex in Turner. I’m pretty sure you were there, too. Otherwise this wouldn’t be a problem. It would be every boy on the Hill’s fantasy come true!”
    Well, not every boy. There are a few kids who are gay and out, a few more who are closeted, but “every boy” sounds better than “ninety percent of the boys.” He’ll forgive my literary license.
    â€œSo, what? You want to get married?”
    His pacing is going to wear a hole in the already threadbare carpet, and his jerky movements and aggressive striding scare me. He’s always been the mild-mannered English teacher, charming with a ready smile, but this is the second time I’ve seen him behave like a caged animal. When animals are backed into a corner . . .
    â€œI don’t
want
to—we barely know each other—but I don’t want to lose my job, either. I don’t want to leave and I don’t think you do, either. You love it here as much as I do.”
    â€œI was here first.”
    I laugh and he turns a murderous glare on me.
    â€œI’ve been coming here since I was two weeks old. Rett and Tilly Wilson sang me ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ and drank cambric tea with my dollies.
I
was here first.”
    His rage is spilling out of his ears, but he won’t push me on that point.
    â€œLook, Will, I like you. You’re smart, handsome and funny. You’re everything I thought I’d want in a partner. I know this is less than ideal, but we could at least try to make it work. I don’t see any other way out of this.”
    If I did, I’d take it, but I can’t leave. I just can’t. I think I could handle any hardship or disappointment as long as I got to stay here. The need to be here, on the Hill, has blanked out the other thoughts in my head.
If I lose everything else, let me keep this.
    â€œI’ll think about it. Get out.”
    I swallow my protests and get up from the couch. I want to say something, but I won’t allow myself to apologize. Not for something that’s equally his fault. I walk by him, and we exchange nothing. Not a look, not a touch. We’re not even breathing the same air. As I close the door to his apartment, I hear something glass meet its maker on the bricks of the hearth.
    Shep
    Practice ended a few minutes ago. We tromped off the ice, filtering through the cinder-block hallway, tugging off sweat-drenched gear while the sharp edges of our skates dug into the rubber mats lining the way to the locker room.
    We’ve each claimed our slice of bench, yanking skates off, tossing helmets into lockers and lobbing practice uniforms in the direction of the huge canvas laundry bins on wheels. As the gear gets stripped away, the gossip starts.
    I let it run over me, unmoved, until a sophomore—new to varsity this year and