Hi:) Here's part two of the Mick and Kat saga; I just wanted to clarify really fast, because a lot of people commented about the title. 'Another Teen Pregnancy Story' is not the title of this story, and I was never even considering it being the title. I just needed to put something in the title box. The idea of titling stories before they're finished is so strange to me. I have no idea, not even the slightest, what to call this, if I do even finish it. If anyone has ideas, I'll gladly take them.
Anyway, I edited the first part according to the critique, so here's the second. I know it starts at an odd point, but I left off at an odd point last time. Happy reading:)
“Mick!” she smiled.
Jared turned to me. “You know her?”
Kat was jogging over. “Hey Mick,” she seemed genuinely happy to see me.
“Hey Mick. . . . Mick?”
I look up. Cool air overwhelms me. The beach disappears, but the navy eyes remain.
“Peter!” I choke out, looking away from his eyes. “What’s up, buddy?”
Peter smiles sheepishly. His crooked grin is Kat’s in every way. “Just practicing for basketball tryouts,” he mumbles. “I’m old enough this year, but not that many third graders are on the team, so I probably won’t make it.”
I manage to chuckle. “What are you talking about?” I challenge. “I don’t think I’ve ever met an eight year old better at basketball than you.”
Peter beams. I stand up and ruffle his disheveled brown hair. “I’ll tell you a secret,” I grin at him.
“What?” Peter asks eagerly.
“I’m supposed to be at basketball practice right now. But instead, why don’t we have a little practice, just me and you?”
Peter beams again. I imagine a little face with that same smile, and I gulp. “Oh man,” he says. “Wait until Josh hears about this. Mick Lawson playing basketball with me.”
I laugh. “Hey, I told your sister I would drop by and talk to her, so why don’t we play at your house? You have a net, don’t you?” It surprises me that I don’t know. But it isn’t like I ever went over to the Gregorian household to play basketball.
“Yeah,” Peter says. “Dad bought it for me last summer. It’s pretty high and everything.” He runs ahead, dribbling his basketball, and doubles back. “Hey, Mick?”
“Yeah?” I say lackadaisically. My mind is already planning what I am going to say to Kat. I’ve really roped myself into it, going over to play ball with Peter. But I guess it’s better. There’s no way I can back out now, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do.
“Are you going to be Kat’s boyfriend again?” Peter asks hopefully.
I smile sadly. “I don’t think so, bud. We just have to talk about some stuff.”
“Oh,” Peter says quietly. “Darn it. I thought maybe if you were, you could come over every day like you used to. . . . and maybe teach me some tricks for my tryout.”
“Aw, hey now Pete,” I’m touched, though I can’t explain why. “It doesn’t matter if Kat and I are together or not. You’re still my honorary little brother.”
“I am?” Peter beams.
“Of course. You come over any time you want. I’ve got a full court in my backyard. Bring Josh, too. You guys are going to be better than the fourth and fifth graders in no time.”
“Even Luke Kennedy?” Peter asks skeptically.
I have no idea who Luke Kennedy is, but my guess is somewhere in the ballpark of a ten-year-old Owen. “Even Luke Kennedy,” I agree.
“Peter, thank goodness,” I hear a familiar voice and fear sweeps through me. Peter is okay; I can handle him. But I don’t think I can go inside the house at three-twenty four Hilland Court. Walking through that familiar red front door is just too much for me. Hearing the familiar voices; I just can’t do this right now.
Quickly, before she sees me. “Pete, I actually have to go,” I whisper in his ear. But come by tomorrow and–”
“Mick Lawson,” she says, and it is too late.
“Elaine,” I run my hand through my hair for lack of a better thing to do with it. “Hi! How are you?”
“I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” she embraces me.
“Mick’s gonna help me with basketball,” Peter explains.
“Oh, well that’s wonderful,” Elaine says. “I know how much you want to make the team. But Peter, you really need to call if you’re going to stay after school. I was worried, honey.”
“Sorry,” is Peter’s obligatory response, though he isn’t really paying attention anymore. He bounces his ball in the driveway and makes an impressive shot in the direction of the basketball hoop. “Come on, Mick, let’s play!”
“Why don’t you guys have a snack first?” Elaine cuts in. “Look at you, Pete. You’re filthy. What do you do at school anyway? Roll around in dirt?”
Peter shrugs. “Pretty much,” he says in a nonchalant tone.
Elaine and I both laugh. And here we go, through the red door.
The kitchen has not changed in the month and a half since I’ve last been in it. The small rectangular table is pushed against the window, and Peter’s breakfast cereal is still propped against his empty cereal bowl.
Elaine notices it too. “Peter, put your bowl in the dishwasher please.”
“Aw, Mom,” Peter complains.
“You know, if you did it in the morning like you’re supposed to, I wouldn’t even have to ask you.”
The refrigerator is full of Peter’s spelling tests, Kat’s psychology papers, and dozens of photos. Kat and Peter in Hawaii. Kat, Peter, and Elaine in front of the Eiffel Tower. Elaine and Mr. Gregorian – I have never been able to call him George – on some beach, Kat pinning my boutonniere on me before winter formal. I gulp. The unavoidable wetness springs to my eyes. I quickly slip the photo behind one of the four of them zip lining in Mexico while Elaine digs through the pantry for a snack.
“Well, it seems I need to go grocery shopping,” she chuckles, coming out of the pantry. “The only thing I can find are these.” She holds up a box of girl scout cookies.
“Oh, yum!” Peter lunges for them. Elaine dangles them out of his reach.
“Pete, I’m pretty sure we bought these from Kat when she was selling girl scout cookies,” Elaine chuckles.
“Oh,” Peter says, puzzled. “When was that?”
“Before you were born, honey.”
“Ew!” Peter exclaims. “I think you should go grocery shopping, then,” he agrees.
“I have some work to get done, and then I will.”
“Okay,” Peter nods. “Hey Mick,” he turns to me. “Want to see this new racecar my dad bought me? Its remote controlled, even when you’re in a different room.”
“Sounds awesome,” I hear myself say.
“Wanna see?” Peter is excited. “Watch, I’ll drive it over here from my room!”
He disappears into the hallway.
“Mick.”
Elaine’s hand brushes my shoulder. “Kat said you were going to stop by to. . . . talk. Is everything all right?”
I can see where Kat gets her eyes. I stare at the floor.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “We just need to. . . . sort some things out.”
“Okay, well she’s up in her room,” Elaine says softly. “And if you need to talk at all, I’m here, okay hon?”
She knows. I can feel it in the way she holds me; the way she watches me. Could it be any more obvious. “Thanks,” I say quietly. “I think I’ll go talk to her. Tell Pete I’ll come down and shoot hoops with him in a bit.”
“Take your time,” Elaine says. I somehow find the courage to look up into her eyes. They look so lost, so unsure, that I don’t know what to do with myself. Elaine is supposed to have all the answers. While my mother is off throwing herself at men who don’t want her and hardly keeping a job down, Elaine, calm reasonable Elaine, knows just what to do. But now I’m not so sure.
I turn away quickly before I can explore this feeling.
I’m up the stairs in an instant, hopping over the squeaky eighth one, and down the hallway to Kat’s closed door. The bulletin board she has hanging on it is filled with pictures of the two of us. I can’t believe she’s kept them up there. I try not to focus on them as I knock.
“Come in,” Kats voice is soft but sure. At least she’s accepted it.
I push open the door. She’s sitting at her desk, tidy as ever, working on her anatomy homework. She has a pencil in her bun to keep it secure, and she’s wearing a blue tank top and sweatpants, biting her lip as she tries to identify all of the bones in the leg.
I don’t know who I am right now. My feet are scurrying across her carpet towards her. My hands are cupping her face. I haven’t felt her soft, pale skin in far too long. My lips are on hers. I don’t know who’s making me do this, but I’m not asking them to stop. She tastes like chapstick and the cup of orange juice that is sitting on her desk.
Her soft hands land on mine, and I feel a wet stream of tears run down her cheeks and onto mine. And I’m not kissing her anymore. My arms are encircling her slender frame, her face buried in my chest, soaking my tee shirt. My fingers stroke her long hair, smooth to my rough touch. I back up and sit on her perfectly made bed. I place her next to me. She is so fragile. Still sobbing. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid I’m going to start crying.
“Shhh, sweetie,” I try to wipe away her tears, but I feel so clumsy right now. I’m afraid my touch will hurt her.
Her body curls away from mine and she lies back on her bed, chest heaving as she sobs. Finally, she is still. “Mick,” she whispers.
“Kat.”
She bites her lip and shakes her head. “I can’t do this.”
I reach for her hand and hold it tightly.
“You can,” I say. “We both can. I’m going to help you. Everything is going to be just fine.”
The person that I was in the hallway at school no longer exists. How could he, considering my own father, or rather, his non existence in my life.
“No!” Kat explodes. “No, it isn’t going to be! Not for me! Everything is going to be fine for you, maybe. You’re going to graduate in June, and go off to college, and everything will be dandy. You don’t have a – a child growing inside of you!” Her hand subconsciously goes to her belly.
The only thing that I didn't like was the cliff hanger ending! Now i want so much more! PM me the second you put more up 
