"Does your mom know?"
I shake my head. "No. I just went there quickly to check the mail but she wasn't home. I came straight here."
"We need to celebrate!" she says.
My grin is instant. "How?"
*
It turns out that Lucy is a lady in the street and a freak in the bed. We didn't have sex for a few weeks after the first time because she was still physically healing. After the fourth time, she kind of got obsessed. Honestly, we both did. For a few months though, she was bleeding on and off. We went to see Dr. Matthews about it; he said it might be the effect of the Implonen. He took it out and we chose the IUD instead. Since then, she's been fine. Better than fine.
"PULL MY HAIR!"
I'd laugh but I'm so fucking close to coming that if I moved wrong, I would.
"PULL IT!"
"Okay!" I yell. I reach up and tug her hair.
"FUCK YEAH, BABY!" She's on all fours, on the floor of the living room. "GRAB MY TITS!"
I reach around and do what she asks, trying to not lose the rhythm of my pumps. Fuck, I love her like this.
"RUB MY CLIT!"
"I DON'T HAVE ANY MORE HANDS!"
She grunts and starts slamming her ass into me. I feel her tighten and I know she's close. I try to hold off until I know she's done. When she starts, she growls and falls on her forearms, her ass in the air, ready for the taking. And I take it. Oh fuck, do I take it.
***
"If you won't take my money, you should at least ask his dad!" Mark whispers loud enough that we can hear them in the kitchen from the living room of Mom's house.
Luce and I look at each other while we sit on the couch. She smiles sadly and takes my hand.
For two weeks since we got the acceptance letter, this is what it's been like. After the first few days of searching for grants and looking into financial aid, we gave up. Mom's savings were only enough to cover a semester, if we were lucky. And that didn't include housing. That meant a two and half hour drive each way.
"His dad hasn't paid a cent to you guys ever," Mark continues.
"That's because I never asked him to. And what's wrong with you? You think that the life I've built for us isn't good enough? Huh? Do you think we need that money?"
"I hate this," I whisper.
"I'm sorry."
Mark responds, his voice getting louder, "I just don't understand why you won't let me pay! Why are you so stubborn that you won't accept help?"
Lucy squeezes my hand. "Maybe you can speak to Mark? Maybe he can lend you the money."
I shake my head.
Mark adds, "He's my son, Heather! Whether it's on paper or not! You don't want to move in with me, that's fine. I let it slide. But I don't understand why you won't let me take care of my family!"
Mom cries.
So does Lucy.
Mark apologizes.
I reach for my backpack and pull out the community college catalogs I've collected and start going through them.
Lucy kisses my cheek. "I'm so proud of you," she whispers, her breath shaky.
"Thanks," I tell her. "But it was all for nothing."
***
It's been three weeks since I got the letter, and a week since I sent off the applications for community college. I plan on going there this weekend to look around for any job opportunities.
"Dad invited us for dinner tonight," Lucy says with a grimace. "I guess to celebrate me getting into UNC. He said he's been waiting for you to get your letter. I guess he's just been hesitant because you can't go, but he still wants to take us, and your parents too... I mean your mom and Mark."
"Of course," I tell her. "Did he not want to do it earlier because he was afraid I'd be upset or something?"
She shrugs. "I guess."
*
We meet Tom and the rest of the boys at one of the few family restaurants that can accommodate a family their size. Mom and Mark have worked out their issues about him paying. He doesn't understand why we're both so stubborn, but he's accepted it and moved on. I think we've all moved on from the high of me being accepted in the first place.
"I have eleventy-three sticks hidden in Filmore," Lachlan, Lucy's youngest brother, the baby of the family, tells me from his position on my lap. After Filmore died, Tom got it towed to his house and Lachlan's been using it as his own little clubhouse since.
"Eleventy-three?" I ask him. "That's a lot of sticks."
He raises a finger, and then curls it, asking me to bend down to his level. Once my ear is to his mouth he whispers, "I have to hide them from the others. Don't tell."
I chuckle. "Okay, dude. I swear it. I won't tell a soul."
He grins from ear to ear.
"Cameron's an amazing secret keeper," Mom tells him.
"It's true," Mark agrees.