Student Publishing Program ::

Lindsay Koso

Julius

Yellow is not my color. My baby didn’t want it either. I stepped out of the dress, and reached for the next one.

I pulled the dress off the hanger. This one was red. The color was called “zesty pomegranate” on the tag. I slipped it over my head. Nope. It wasn’t the right fit. My baby kicked inside me, and I shimmied out of the dress. He didn’t like it.

“That was my last one. I have nothing left,” I murmured, touching my belly.

I left the dressing room. Heading towards the checkout, I ran my fingers across the racks of dresses. My finger snagged. It was a light blue dress made of a soft shiny fabric. I felt a shiver across my stomach, and I removed it from the rack. Might as well, I thought. I walked back to the dressing room.

I tried on the dress. It was perfect. The blue silk caressed my rounded belly like a lover. Even if it never got worn, it would be worth the sixty dollars I paid just to have it hang in my closet. I touched my stomach, feeling him moving beneath my skin. I could tell he liked the dress just as much as I did.

I slid out of the dress and slipped it onto the hanger. If my baby wanted it, he would get it. That was my mantra. Whatever he wants, he gets—it’s my fault he will be born into this mess anyway.

I left the dressing room. Jared waited for me at the counter. I held up my dress.

“I’ll pay,” he said. I let him, and smiled up at my baby’s father. He smiled back, and handed over the sixty-three dollars and sixty-six cents to the woman at the cashier. We left the store and headed to the food court.

“Are your parents talking to you yet?” asked Jared. He looked concerned.

“No.” I shrugged. “They can’t get the image of a pregnant teenager out of their heads. I’m not their daughter anymore—in their eyes, I asked for this.” He put his arm around my shoulders as we stepped into line for sushi. “Do you want anything to eat now?” he asked.

“Not now. I’m feeling nauseous.” I held my stomach. “I hope I don’t feel this way next week. I’m already at eight months and two weeks. I don’t want to miss the prom—”

“You’ll be fine” he cut across me. “I have nothing but faith in you.” I nodded to him, and he took my hand.

We walked to the car. I glanced at Jared, and took in his face. He was tired. His hazel eyes had blue circles under them. He had a crease in his forehead that I had never seen before.

He caught me staring and held my gaze for a moment. Then he broke away.

The next week passed in one blurry moment, and I was at Jared’s house, waiting for his mother to stop fawning and take the damn picture. She complimented me on my dress. “It’s so soft,” she said. “Silky and smooth—it fits you perfectly.” I smiled, but cringed inwardly as her eyes drifted to my swollen belly and lingered.

“Mom, we should go. We’ll miss the buses,” Jared took my hand, and led me to his car. We waved to his parents and pulled out of the driveway. We sped down the highway towards the high school. Then I felt it.

“Jared,” I moaned. He turned his head to me. “My water broke.” He swore, and changed lanes. I felt the contractions come and the birthing breathing I had learned from ask.com flew out of my head.

Jared held out his hand. “Squeeze as much as it hurts, baby. I love you—” he put his eyes back on the road. I don’t know how much time passed on. We were miles from the nearest hospital, and I could barely hear Jared over the ringing in my ears.

His voice changed pitch, and became more urgent. “I love you, baby. Stay with me. Stay with me! Love, STAY WITH ME!”

All is black. Then, a light grows. I hear a sound. “He named me Julius,” says a voice. I smile. Julius.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2011 EDITION]