The broom’s rhythm is the only sound in the empty church, scraping softly across the wooden floor, breaking the stillness. It’s late afternoon, and the sun sneaks through the stained glass windows, casting blue and red patches of light across the pews. My hands are calloused from the endless cleaning, but that’s what you do when your dad’s the preacher. Sweep, mop, repeat. Keeps me out of trouble, I guess.
I’m halfway down the aisle when I hear the church door creak open. My heart skips a beat. No one usually comes around this time, especially on a Saturday. I turn and see Sloane standing there, her blonde hair catching the sunlight. She’s holding a basket in her hands, and I can’t help but smile.
“Hey, what’re you doin’ here?” I ask, leaning the broom against a pew.
She doesn’t smile back. Not like she usually does, anyway. Her eyes look a little too wide, her lips pressed together, like she’s holding something back. My gut tightens. Something’s off.
She walks down the aisle toward me, the basket swinging slightly with each step. “Thought you could use a break,” she says softly, her voice shaky. “I brought you something.”
I try to read her face, but she’s not giving me much. Maybe she’s mad at me for something. I can’t figure it out, so I just nod and step forward to meet her. “What’s in the basket? Some of that banana bread your mom makes?” I try to sound light, but my voice comes out flat.
She holds out the basket, biting her lip, and I take it from her carefully, like it might explode or something. I glance up at her one more time before lifting the cloth covering it. It’s not food.
It’s two tiny, white onesies.
I blink, my brain struggling to catch up. “What…?” I trail off, confused. I stare at the onesies for a second longer before I see something else at the bottom of the basket. It’s a black and white photo, small and grainy. I pick it up, my hands shaking a little now.
An ultrasound.
Two little blobs.
I can’t breathe.
I look up at her, my heart pounding in my chest like I’ve just run a mile. “Sloane…what?”
Her blue eyes well up, and she presses her lips together harder, her hands gripping each other in her front of her stomach. “I-I’m pregnant, Zig.”
The words hand between us, like the echo of a church bell that keeps ringing in my head long after the sound’s faded. Pregnant, Pregnant. I look down at the ultrasound again, and my hands tremble as I see it clearer now-two little figures, curled up, together.
Twins.
My mouth goes dry. “How-?” I stop myself, knowing exactly how. My head feels like it’s spinning. “You’re…sure?”
She nods quickly, tears starting to slide down her cheeks. “I’m sure. I-I went to the doctor a few days ago. It’s real, Zig. We’re…we’re having twins.”
My breath comes shaky, and I drop the ultrasound back in the basket. I can’t look at it anymore. I run my hands through my red hair, trying to do something with restless energy buzzing through me. “Sloane, we’re-We’re fifteen. How-” I stop again, trying to make sense of it, but there’s no sense to be made. It’s happening. It’s real.
“I know,” she whispers. “I know we’re young. I know it’s crazy. But I didn’t know what else to do…I had to tell you.”
I stare at her, at her face that I know so well, but right now she feels like a stranger. This doesn’t happen to us. This doesn’t happen to me. But here it is, right in front of me, and I don’t know what to do with it.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” I mumble. My chest feels tight, like there’s not enough air in the room, even tough the church is big empty around us. I sink down into one of the pews, my head in my hands, trying to stop the world from spinning too fast.
Sloane sits down next to me, close but not touching. I can feel her staring at me, waiting for something, but I don’t know what to give her. How do I make sense of this?
“I’m scared too,” she says, her voice small, breaking though the silence. “I don’t know what we’re doing gonna do. I just-I don’t want to do this alone.”
I lift my head slowly, looking at her. She’s scared. She’s scared just like I am. And I hate that she’s had carry this weight by herself, even for a few days. I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it gently.
“You’re not alone,” I finally manage to say. My voice is hoarse, but it’s the truth. “I’m here, okay? I… I don’t know what we’re gonna do either, but I’m not going anywhere.”
She lets out a breath she’s been holding, and more tears slip down her cheeks, but this time she smiles. It’s small, but it’s there. And for a second, everything feels a little less terrifying.
We sit there, in the empty church, holding hands and staring at the basket between us. I don’t know what tomorrow’s gonna look like, or how I’m supposed to be a dad at fifteen.
But right now, all I know is that I’m not running. Not from her. Not from them.
Not from this.
I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. “When…when are you due?”
Sloane wipes at her cheeks, sniffling a little. “December,” she says softly. “I’m about three months along.”
December. Six months. It’s June now, and the thought of her belly growing, of two actual babies inside her, feels like some wild dream I haven’t woken up from yet. Six months. We have six months to figure out how to handle something that feels way too big for us.
I nod slowly, trying to let it sink in. “Do your parents know?”
She hesitates, looking down at her lap, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the basket. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I told them a few days ago. They…they were mad, of course. I mean, they freaked out. But they calmed down. They’re trying to figure out what to do now.”
I can feel a lump in my throat. Her parents already know. They’ve had days to let it settle, while this is all hitting me like a brick wall. And then there’s my parents…
“They don’t hate me, do they?” I ask, the words coming out smaller than I mean for them to. It’s stupid question. But the thought of Sloane’s parents looking at me like I’m some kind of monster makes me sick to my stomach.
She looks up to me, her eyes soft. “No, Zig. They don’t hate you. They were angry, but they know…they know we’re in this together.”
I swallow hard, nodding, but before I can say anything else, I hear a door open behind us. The sound of heavy footsteps follows, coming from my dad’s office at the back of the church.
I freeze, my whole body going tense.
Dad walks out, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing his usual button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair is starting to gray around the edges, but he still looks strong, like he could take on the world. He glances at us, surprised to see Sloane here, and then his eyes settle on the basket sitting between us.
He frowns, his thick brows drawing together. “Zig, what’s going on?”
My mouth goes dry, and I realize how I must look- sitting here with Sloane, both of us pale and quiet, the basket on the pew like some kind of secret we’re trying to hide. But there’s no hiding this. Not from him.
I stand up slowly, and Sloane does the same beside me, her hand trembling just a little. My dad’s eyes flicker between us, waiting for an explanation, and I can feel the weight of his gaze like a spotlight.
“I…I need to tell you something,” I say, my voice shaky.
He crosses his arms, his face unreadable. “What is it?”
I glance at Sloane, and she nods, giving me permission to say it. So I do.
“Sloane’s pregnant,” I blurt out, the words rushing out of me before I can second-guess them. “She’s… she’s having twins.”
For a second, there’s nothing. No reaction. No movement. Just the silence of the church and the weight of those words hanging in the air. Then, slowly, my dad’s face hardens. His jaw clenches, and his arms drop to his sides.
“Twins,” he repeats, his voice low and rough, like he can’t believe it.
I nod, my heart thudding in my chest so hard it hurts. “Yeah. She’s due in December.”
Dad’s eyes move to Sloane, and she shrinks back a little, like she’s bracing for whatever comes next. I’ve never seen my dad angry like this, not with me. And I can tell, by the way he’s staring at us, that he’s trying to hold it back. Trying to be the preacher he’s supposed to be, not the father who’s just found out his fifteen-year-old son’s going to be a dad.
“Does…does your parents know?” Dad asks Sloane, his voice tight.
“Yes,sir,” she whispers. “They know.”
Dad lets out a long breath, running a hand through his graying hair. For a second, he just stands there, staring down at the floor like he’s trying to make sense of it all. The silence stretches, and it feels like hours before he speaks again.
“And you, Zig,” he finally says, his voice softer now but still sharp. “What are you gonna do?”
“I…” I don’t know. I don’t have an answer. All I know is what I said before, that I’m not running. But what does that mean? How am I supposed to fix this? How am I supposed to be a dad?
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice cracking. “But I’m not leaving her. I’ll figure it out. I have to.”
Dad looks up at me, his eyes locking with mine. I can see the disappointment there, but there’s something else too. Something sadder. He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his face. “Zig, this… this is big. You’re just a kid. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“I know,” I say quickly, my chest tightening. “But I’m gonna be there. I’m not walking away.”
Sloane squeezes my hand beside me, her fingers cold but steady. Dad looks at us both for a long moment, then sighs, the weight of everything settling into his shoulders. He looks older all of a sudden, like the news has aged him.
“Well,” he mutters, his voice quieter now, “we’ll have to talk to your mom about this. Figure out what comes next.”
There’s no anger in his voice anymore, just a tiredness that makes my stomach churn. I glance at Sloane, and she looks as scared as I feel. Neither of us knows what comes next. But now the world knows, and there’s no going back.
We’re in it together. And there’s no turning back.
The car ride home feels like a slow-motion nightmare. My dad drives in silence, his grip on the steering wheel tight as we navigate the winding roads of Georgia. I stare out the window, watching the familiar landscape blur by—the towering pines, the little houses with white picket fences, and the church we just left. Each house seems to whisper a secret that I’m now part of, and my heart pounds in my chest.
My mind is racing, a chaotic storm of emotions. I just told Sloane that we’d face this together, but the reality of what we’re facing hits me like a ton of bricks. I can’t help but think about the tiny lives that depend on us and the mountain of responsibility that’s suddenly dropped into my lap. I feel the familiar tightness in my chest, a warning sign.
“Zig,” my dad finally breaks the silence, his voice steady but laced with concern. “We need to talk to your mom and siblings as soon as we get home. They deserve to know what’s happening.”
I nod, even though my stomach churns at the thought. “Yeah, okay.”
He pulls into our driveway, the familiar sight of our cozy home offering no comfort today. As we walk inside, the sounds of my siblings fill the air—laughter and chatter echo from the living room, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me.
“Mom! Zig’s home!” my sister Elizabeth calls, her high-pitched voice cheerful.
“Zig!” my little sister Eve squeals, rushing toward me with open arms. I crouch down, pulling her into a hug, trying to muster a smile. But all I can think about is the weight of the news I’m about to share.
“Hey, sweet pea,” I say, ruffling her hair, forcing the cheerfulness into my voice.
“Guess what? I drew a picture of a unicorn today!” she announces, her eyes wide with excitement.
“That’s awesome, Eve,” I say, my voice strained as I try to focus on her happiness.
“Zig, sit down!” my older brother Elijah says, plopping down on the couch. “We were just about to play some Mario. Want in?”
“Not right now, Eli,” Dad says, his tone firm yet gentle. “We need to talk first.”
I swallow hard as the room goes silent. All my siblings turn to look at me, their expressions shifting from playful to serious. My heart races as I realize I have to be the one to break the news. I can feel the anxiety bubbling up inside me, twisting my stomach into knots.
“Uh, can everyone just… sit down?” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
My dad sits down on the armchair across from the couch, his gaze steady. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it feels like I’m about to jump off a cliff. “So… um, I have something to tell you guys,” I start, my voice trembling.
I can see my mom moving into the room, her nurse’s uniform still on, the scent of antiseptic clinging to her. She glances at me, concern flickering in her eyes. “What is it, Zig? You look pale.”
“Zig, just tell us,” Eden, my seventeen-year-old sister, encourages, her voice gentle yet insistent.
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the tears start to prick at the corners. “Sloane… She's pregnant. I’m going to be a dad,” I blurt out, the words spilling out of me like water from a broken dam.
Silence envelops the room. My siblings exchange confused glances, and I can feel the world around me shift. My mom’s eyes widen in disbelief, and my dad’s jaw tightens.
“Pregnant?” my mom finally says, her voice a mixture of shock and concern.
“Yeah, she’s due in December,” I mumble, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I didn’t want this… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
The weight of my words crashes over me, and the realization of my responsibility sinks in. My heart races, the anxiety spiraling out of control, and I can’t breathe.
“I can’t… I can’t do this,” I gasp, my hands trembling. “I need to step outside.”
Before anyone can say anything, I bolt from the living room, my feet pounding against the hardwood floors as I rush out the back door. I stumble into the backyard, the cool evening air hitting my face like a splash of cold water. I lean against the old oak tree, its sturdy trunk grounding me as I struggle to catch my breath.
I sink to the grass, my head in my hands, tears flowing freely now. “What am I going to do?” I whisper to myself, the panic clawing at my insides. My mind races, the swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I’m just fifteen, still a kid myself, and now I’m supposed to be a father?
The weight of everything presses down on me, and I feel lost in a sea of uncertainty. I close my eyes, willing the storm inside my head to settle. The distant laughter of my siblings fades into the background, replaced by the rustling leaves and the sound of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind inside. “I can do this,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I have to.”
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