Getting By ~ Cole & Cassie's Story

Living Arangments

Cole P.O.V

                I had always liked Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, but right now, all I wanted was to run in the opposite direction; especially when I remembered Mr. Phillips used to be a champion wrestler and now coached a team in his spare time.

We sat in the living room, which was all white and dark brown, and vases of flowers were everywhere. It suited Sophie, with her pastel coloured clothes and porcelain looks. When she was little, she looked like a doll. It made me think what the child inside of her looked like; if it had her beautiful blue eyes and my dark copper hair. Maybe my nose and her ears?

I gave myself a mental slap; what was I thinking? Who cared what the baby looked like, and who knew what would happen to it when it was born.

“Colton, tell us about the soccer team? Your captain this year, aren’t you?” Mrs. Phillips –Jean- put a plate of ginger snaps on the coffee table, but I was to nervous to eat one. So was Sophie; she was looking a little green.

“Oh yeah, I am.” Cass had been so proud of me when I told her, happy that her coaching had finally paid off.

“That’s amazing, Colton!” Mr. Phillips cried, sipping his coffee. I had never figured out why they called me by my full name, but Sophie said it had been the same way with her older sister’s boyfriends, too, so I didn’t complain. They surely would be when they heard what we had to say.

“So, Colton, Sophia, what was it you wanted to tell us?” Mrs. Phillips laid a gentle hand on her husbands arm, her smile friendly.

“Well, you see, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips-” I started, but Sophie squeezed my hand, interrupting me.

“Mom, Daddy, there’s something you need to…” Sophie’s voice trailed off and her eyes widened.

“Sophia? Are you alright dear, you look a little pale.” Mrs. Phillips looked worriedly over at her daughter.

“Excuse me,” Sophie clamped one hand over he mouth, the other over her stomach and raced out of the room, nearly tripping over my feet.

“Sophia!” Mr. and Mrs. Phillips cried, as we all ran after her. I kneeled down beside her and held her long hair as she vomited into the toilet, rubbing her back as she cried and vomited.

“Sophia?” Mrs. Phillips was looking almost as pale as Sophie and Mr. Phillips’s eyes were narrowed to a slit, looking at us carefully. “What’s going on, honey?”

Sophie was crying, but she someone managed to answer “I’m pregnant, Mom, Dad. I’m pregnant.”

Her parent’s eyes widened, and there was ice in Mr. Phillips voice as he spoke “What?”

“I’m pregnant, Daddy. I’m-I’m sorry.” She cried as I rubbed her back as another wave of vomit hit her.

“Sir, it was an accident, I swear we didn’t mean-”

“Get out,” he said.

“What?” I asked, sure I’d heard him wrong.

“Get out, both of you. I never want to see your faces again.” Mr. Phillips glared at us “Leave my home, you have half an hour to gather all her things and leave and never return.”

Sophie was crying really hard now, but the nausea had passed-for now. I wondered why they called it morning sickness when it was a twenty-four hour thing.

“Come on, you heard me! The clock is ticking.”

I stared up at the man Sophie called ‘dad’ and wanted to punch his so hard he would black out, but instead I helped Sophie up from the floor, walked her up the stairs and helped her pack all her things into two duffel bags Mrs. Phillips brought. She looked scared, and almost spoke to us, but stopped every time.