When they arrived at lunch early, Jesse suggested they take a two-person table in the corner of the lounge, instead of saving a bigger table for the group.
“Won’t that make us more conspicuous?” Quinn said. “Breaking our routine?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “I have a quiz next period I should study for.”
As the room filled up, the air thickened with curiosity, making it difficult to eat. Still, sitting there with Jesse was better than the rest of the morning had been. Quinn’s previous class block had been spent in a meeting with the Head of Upper School, the school counselor, and Mr. Dellatoro, supposedly discussing their desire to help her “negotiate the situation so it disrupts her New Prospect experience and her education as little as possible, and so she feels supported and secure.” That’s what came out of their mouths, at least. Their eyes asked all the same questions that Sadie and Isa had, their fascination just as undisguised. Her mind had gone back to second grade again, to sitting in the principal’s office after she’d try to run away during recess.
As she opened a baggie of edamame, she saw Caroline scanning the room, then going over to join her art friends.
“Do you think if Caroline knew the truth, she’d think I was like Mary?” Quinn asked in a low voice.
“Huh?” Jesse said, flipping through his chemistry textbook.
“The Virgin Mary. She goes to church, you know.”
“Uh, yeah. She’s religious. Not stupid.”
Would it be stupid if Caroline thought that? The way Quinn understood it, the whole point of religion was to see the world through the lens of your beliefs. If Quinn was religious, she was pretty sure that she’d at least wonder in the back of her mind if it were possible. And, honestly, she was kind of sorry she wasn’t. This all would have been a lot easier if she believed it was God’s plan. Out of curiosity, she’d read what she could find about the Virgin Mary; it turned out that an angel (named Gabriel, ironically) had told her that it was God’s baby at the beginning of the pregnancy. Mary was lucky she’d been clued in.
Quinn became aware of someone near the table and looked up. Noë Becker and her boyfriend, a senior named Sebastian, were standing next to them.
“Hey, Quinn,” Noë said, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her worn Levi’s. “Sebastian and I just wanted to say that we’re behind you one hundred percent.”
“Uh, thanks?” Quinn said.
“All you did was have sex. If you were a guy who got a girl pregnant, it wouldn’t be a big deal at all. It’s a total double standard. You shouldn’t be ashamed for one minute. I mean, we’ve had sex . . .” Noë gestured back and forth between herself and Sebastian. “And I’m not ashamed.”
Quinn thought she heard Jesse choke on his milk. Sebastian appeared unfazed. Or maybe just stoned.
“And since you guys are obviously still together . . .” Noë looked at Jesse now. “I’m assuming you’ve got some sort of open relationship. Also cool. Seb and I have an open relationship, too.”
Sebastian’s face showed signs of life. “We do?” he said.
Noë rolled her eyes. “Duh.” She extended her fist to Quinn. Quinn returned the bump, biting her lips.
After Noë led Sebastian back to their table, Quinn met Jesse’s gaze. Without discussing it, they quickly packed up their trash and recycling and left the room, barely able to hold in their reactions until they made it outside into the small courtyard.
“Oh my god,” Quinn said, when she could finally catch her breath after laughing so hard. “Am I Noë Becker’s new cause?”
“I guess so,” Jesse said.
“Unbelievable.” Quinn tucked some hair that had escaped her braid behind her ears. “Of course, she’d be disappointed to hear that I haven’t actually had sex.” Seeing the look Jesse gave her, she clarified, “In the usual way.” They sat for a minute, and the humor leaked out of Quinn like air from a balloon.
“I’m sorry people think, you know . . .” she said. “That I hooked up with someone else.”
He leaned down to tie his sneaker, shaggy hair hiding his face. “Whatever. I know you didn’t. That’s what matters.”
A cold breeze made Quinn shiver. “And what Noë said—people think I should be ashamed? Is that what everyone’s saying behind my back?”
“She probably just meant those comments on Gazer.” He pulled tight on the loops of the bow and then looked up at her. “Didn’t you . . .?”
“No. I didn’t.” Comments? Her father hadn’t told her there was a comments section. She hadn’t thought to even look. She reached into her bag for her phone.
“Quinn,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Don’t.”
She shook him off. For a moment, she thought, Don’t do it. Listen to Jesse. It’s out of your control. But she couldn’t help herself from pushing the button and watching the screen light up.
SuperSleuth: Didn’t take long to figure out the pregnant daughter. Cutler. 9th district. That writer guy.
DD17: It’s not even her boyfriends? Appalachia comes to Park Slope. Ha! Love it!
ToniB: Who cares? He’s running not his daughter.
Sarasilbert22: I care if I might vote for the guy. Should have spent less time writing his elitest books and more time at home raising kids he could actually be proud of. Not like she can’t afford birth control.
LMAO: Yeah, Brooklyn probably has an artisanal organic condom store she could have gone to.
Xocticbrand: Serves Cutler right for thinking his kids r too good for the NYC school system. The guys a douchebag.
Paula142: She’s going through with the pregnancy? At 16? Please tell me Cutler isn’t anti-abortion. I voted for him! He’s a liberal Democrat! WTF?
Kizarrj: I don’t know if he’s anti-abortion, but he’s clearly anti-parenting.
And more.
Across the kitchen table from Quinn, Taylor Bernstein—her father’s campaign manager—tap-tap-tapped on her phone. The seriousness of her expression was emphasized by her tight bun and crisp blouse. Gabe was at a meeting and had asked Taylor to speak to Quinn about “several issues.” She was the only person who worked for Gabe who knew the truth about the pregnancy.
Katherine was supposed to be there with them, too, but she was asleep and Quinn didn’t want to bother her. She’d seemed completely blindsided by the paternity test result yesterday, like she hadn’t even considered that the baby might not be Jesse’s. Quinn was upset enough by her father’s anger and disapproval; overhearing her mother sobbing in the bedroom was a million times worse.
“So,” Taylor said, setting down her phone, “as you know, Quinn, we already issued the brief statement. And later today, your father is giving The Lead an exclusive interview. He’s only going to talk about your family’s personal issues a bit. He’ll touch on how he and your mom expected you to want to terminate the pregnancy, but that you thought it through carefully, and that they support you in your choice.”
She took a sip of coffee, her elegant, manicured hand out of place holding the childishly lumpy mug Lydia made in pottery class last year. Poor Lydia . . . She’d been so confused when they explained the situation to her. Of course!
Taylor continued. “He’s going to steer the conversation to the fact that you’re lucky to have had the luxury to make a decision at all. That you have good health insurance for prenatal care, live in a state where termination would have been accessible, and have a good support system.” She went on about how he’d mention different issues relating to women’s health, that the government needs to make services more available, etc. “He’s still not going to address the issue of who the father is, except to say that it’s a private matter.”
Quinn nodded.
“So,” Taylor said, “you can help by being a part of damage control.”
“How?” Quinn asked. She’d do anything she could to stop people saying bad things about her parents. It hadn’t even occurred to her that anyone would blame this on them until she read those comments.
“Well, we’ve already disabled all your social media accounts—Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook . . . Whatever you had.”
“What?” Quinn said, taking out her phone to check. “You did that already? How?”
“Not my area,” Taylor said. “Our tech guy, Hassan, did it. We didn’t want other people posting on your accounts.”
Sure enough, when Quinn tried to go to Instagram, she couldn’t log in.
The same happened with Facebook as Taylor was saying, “Hassan did a thorough search and couldn’t find any problematic photos posted anywhere. But have you sent anything to anyone privately we need to worry about?”
“Photos?” Quinn said, looking up. “You mean, like, naked?”
“Or whatever. Anything compromising or inappropriate.”
“No. Nothing.” She hadn’t, had she? Something in Taylor’s laser gaze made her heart beat a little harder, anyway.
“Good,” Taylor said. “Also, it’s good that you’re staying close to your boyfriend. If people see that you’re still together, it makes you more sympathetic. Avoid being seen alone with other boys.”
“Are you serious?” Quinn said. “Who would even notice? Or care? Why does anyone care about any of this? They don’t even know me. Lots of girls get pregnant!”
“Reasonable people won’t care. But your dad is a public figure. And there will always be tabloids. So until this is off people’s radar, better to be safe.”
“Maybe we should just tell everyone the truth,” Quinn blurted. “Tell everything, so people know I didn’t do anything wrong and neither did my parents.” For a moment, it seemed like a good idea.
“I assume you’re kidding,” Taylor said, alarm in her eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Are you sure?” Quinn said.
“Look, Quinn . . .” Taylor leaned forward. “If you take one thing from this meeting, let it be this: If the truth gets out . . .” She shook her head. “Trust me. This mess is nothing compared to the shitstorm we’ll be facing.”