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We traded glances, surprised. Lyn walked over to a car with no one visible in the seats and opened the door. "I think she means for you to stop."A senior was laying on top of a girl I knew from my English class, literally tearing at her clothes. "Fuck off! Mind your own business and close the fucking door!" If she's too polite to scream, I'm not." Lyn said. "Let her go." He glared at Lyn, but it was an awkward position to be in for him. I saw Lyn start to draw a breath, and I'm sure he saw it too."Fucking cunt! Who needs you!" He said, and roughly dragged the girl up, pushing her out of the car, to sprawl on the ground. "Go play with yourself! Next time, don't tease!" He started the engine and pulled out abruptly, nearly hitting us, then roared out of the parking lot, fishtailing and screeching tires. I saw old Mr. Ferguson simply stare at the car for a second, then write down the license number.A second later he was standing next to us, looking at the girl, Rachael Sanchez, her name. ”The tears were coming more freely now, but her look was aggrieved. She took a deep sobbing breath and continued. “The doctor reckoned I was just about into the third month of the pregnancy. If you count back, that puts conception towards the end of October.”She stopped and gazed through her tears at me, her eyes begging me to make the connection. I did see it immediately: it was after all my great triumph, that last Thursday in October – getting her to see the truth that we were not related after all and could have been a couple all along.“So around the time of the wedding?” I asked by way of checking.“That’s right. You know with the pill I’m taking, I take it for three weeks and then there’s a week without pills?”“Go on!”“The weekend before you came was hectic with lots to prepare, and mother was panicking and there were too many things to do, and in addition I’d finished a cycle the Thursday before that weekend and was off pills.“Well on Wednesday, the day before you came, Barry.
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