Lymber craft's Arc

Chapter 3 of 70

Saturday morning, the dance was hours away, and Lymber sat on her bathroom counter with the strip in her palm. She had slept four hours. The gold gown hung on the door where she left it Thursday night. She had tried to think about hair and shoes and the crown. She kept thinking about the pink line under the tissue in the drawer. She pulled the strip out and unwrapped it. The control line was still bright green. The second line was still pink. She could not walk into the gym tonight carrying this alone. She went downstairs before she could talk herself out of it. Her mother Polly stood in the kitchen of their six-bedroom house, pouring coffee, robe tied tight, hair already set for the day. Lymber held out the strip without a word. Polly took it, looked at the two lines, and set her cup down hard enough to spill. Her face went white, then red. She asked who. She asked when. She asked if Lymber understood what tonight was, what the crown was, what people would say when the dress stopped fitting in a month. Lymber did not answer. She stood at the island and let her mother move through it. Polly walked to the sink, gripped the edge, and stared at the window over it. A full minute passed. Then she picked up the strip again, wrapped it in a paper towel, and slid it into the pocket of her robe. She turned around and her voice was flat and even. She said they would deal with it Sunday. She said no one at the dance would know. She said Lymber would eat, do her hair, wear the gown, and win. Polly poured a second cup and pushed it across the island. Lymber wrapped both hands around it. Her mother started listing the day out loud, hour by hour, the way she used to list chores. Salon at eleven. Nails at one. Makeup at four. Photos at six. Polly did not touch her. She did not say the word baby. She only said the plan. Lymber nodded at each item. Something in her chest loosened and something else tightened. The secret was out of the drawer and inside her mother's pocket now. Tonight belonged to the crown. Tomorrow belonged to whatever came next. Lymber drank the coffee and went upstairs to wash her hair.