Chapter 2: Make Abigail Great Again

With my heart racing and my hands sweating, I put the diary down. It was a lot to process, knowing that my baby girl was sexually active. On one hand I thought the world of William. On the other hand, like any mother I had worries about pregnancy. I knew Abigail and William were completely responsible and using protection, but all it would take is one accident to completely derail her hopes and dreams for the future.

I was also horrified to read about William’s family. Never in my wildest imagination would I ever guess that he came from a family that was so hideously cruel. My heart went out to William who had to continue to live there. I was also extremely concerned about the lecherous advances the father was making on Abigail. I didn’t want her ever going over there again. Of course, I couldn’t come right out and say that without admitting I had read her diary.

The next few weeks were hectic as usual, as Abigail adjusted to her schedule. As always, the weekdays were all about extracurriculars, studying, and preparing college applications. It was only on Friday night and the weekend that she cut loose a little bit to spend time with William and her other friends.

I had almost forgotten about the diary until I saw the outlines of the distinct book as I was doing laundry. Again, I struggled internally within myself. Ultimately, concerned about the deepening relationship with William and his family, I opened the book.

Entry 2

October 1, 2023

My first month as a senior has been a whirlwind adventure! I am loving all my classes- especially Mr Gadley’s AP Government course. My extracurriculars are fascinating- especially debate and feminism- and my volunteer work with kids and underserved populations gives meaning to my life.

I don’t know what I’d do without Ashley. As President of the Young Democrats club, she has put me to work organizing for Biden. Since the Dobbs decision, we have also been organizing around the country in support of reproductive rights.

I was so discouraged after Roe was overturned. I thought that the tide of regression could never be reversed during my lifetime. But Ashley always has a plan- a march to organize, a speech to make, a congressman to lobby. She was the only one who made me feel hopeful about the future.

She also has my back in AP Gov and debate class, dealing with a MAGA troll named Trevor Jameson. Whenever either of us make a cogent argument, Trevor starts leading a chant of “Lock her up! Lock her up!”

William is my hero and my lifeline. No matter how stressed out I get, he is always there for me with support and encouragement, phrased as eloquently as only he can.

We have gone on dates every week, and things always heat up afterwards. I’ve noticed my parents have been home more, and my mom seems a little more watchful, so there hasn’t been a private place for us to be alone and intimate together. Sometimes we made out in the car, while I surreptitiously stroked him over his pants- but I was always too paranoid of getting caught to go very far. I couldn’t think of anything more mortifying!

It really was an impossible situation. My sexual frustration was starting to boil over. Masturbation was my only true release, and I would reward myself with a session when I had completed my homework. I thought about William entering me for the first time and what a vastly superior man he was to his odious father.

The only choices we had were to continue with the status quo or go over to his house where we had privacy, but I had to endure the unrelenting harassment of his father. As lust crazed as I was, I couldn’t subject myself to that.

Little did I know, this past weekend I was to suffer a different kind of harassment.

One of my favorite volunteer positions is with Safe Rides. It is a life saving organization that kids can call who may be too drunk or high to drive home, but are too afraid to call their parents or even call an Uber because they are afraid of getting in trouble. When someone calls, a volunteer like me will pick them up and drop them off at home- no questions asked.

This particular evening I received a notification to pick someone up from a party at Trevor Janedon’s house. I sighed heavily with palpable annoyance. For one thing, I actively disliked parties even with people I liked. As an introvert, I preferred the company of a few close friends or being alone with a good book to a situation with loud music and drinking where I couldn’t even hear myself think. Secondly, Trevor was a complete douchebag. Smug, full of himself, and completely entitled, he was of the mistaken opinion that he was God’s gift to women. My plan was to show up as unobtrusively as possible, find the individual in need of a ride, and go. It was not to be so easy.

Trevor greeted me at the door. He was tall, blond and conventionally attractive. He looked a combination of frat guy and Hitler youth.

“Hey beautiful. Even libs are welcome here tonight. For you, I’ll make it bipartisan,”

“Let’s make one thing perfectly clear, Trevor. I am not here to see you or have anything to do with this party. I’m here to give rides to anyone too intoxicated to drive themselves,”

“Sounds great! Come on in, I’ll grab you a drink,” He turned around and walked in, with me scurrying after him.

“Did you seriously not hear a word I just said? I’m not here for the party. And I certainly am not drinking! I need to take people home.”

Ignoring me, he headed to the kitchen and handed me a beer.

“So what can we do to Make America Great Again?”

I may have actually thrown up in my mouth. I put the beer back on the counter.

“WE are not doing anything. Ever. And invoking the most corrupt administration in American history is not going to help your chances,” I made clear.

“Best economy in history pre-Covid. Secure border to keep the trash out. What’s not to love?” he countered.

“How can you refer to another human being as trash?” I protested in disbelief.

“Easy. They come in bringing drugs and God knows what else looking for a handout,” he responded.

“And what about your family? Weren’t they immigrants too at one point? Or were they also ‘trash’ looking for a handout?” I asked.

“All I know is they came here legally, they didn’t bring fentanyl, and they weren’t going around raping people and terrorizing decent Americans like these animals,” he replied.

“Again- human beings, not trash, not animals. You do realize that immigrants, both documented and undocumented, are far less likely to commit crimes than the general population. On top of which, if they are afraid of being deported they are less like to REPORT crimes!!!” I said, my frustration mounting.

“You libs are all alike. You’re just parroting your George Soros lamestream media talking points,” he said, stupidly.

“How is that a rebuttal? If you dispute my facts, show me the evidence that immigrants are more likely to commit crime from a reputable source. Or, more crudely put, if you can’t put up- shut up,” I argued.

My heart was racing and my blood was boiling. Who did he think he was, spewing such vile, hateful trash?

Rather than respond to my point, he broke into a wide grin.

“You’re cute when you’re all worked up, you know that,”

I blushed and looked away. Typical patriarchal bullshit. Having no real argument, he was undermining my points by calling me ‘cute’.

“Well you are unrepentantly ignorant,”I replied.

“And cute, right,” he added.

I allowed the tiniest smile. He moved closer, until we were standing right next to each other.

“So when can I take you out to educate you?” He asked. “I’ve always wanted to ‘own a lib’”

To which I responded, “Number one- I will not be owned, by anyone- least of all you. Number two- the onus of education is on you, not me, as you have yet to proffer a coherent rebuttal to my argument. And number 3- I have a boyfriend with whom I am exceedingly happy,”

He walked closer until our faces were about an inch apart. My heart was still racing and I was breathing heavily.

Staring deep into my eyes, he said, “Number 1- I think you’re hot. Number 2- I think I’m hot. Number 3- I don’t give a fuck about your libtard boyfriend,”

He leaned his lips closer to mine until I could feel his breath against mine and our lips were almost touching. I turned my head away.

“I need to find the person that needs a ride from me,” I said, attempting to put a stop to this.

“I need a ride from you,” he continued.

“That will never happen. And for your edification, if you’d care to have a substantive conversation in the future, I would suggest reading actual news and not just right wing propaganda,” I said.

“And if you’d like to have a substantive conversation with me, I’d suggest watching Newsmax, reading Breitbart, listening to Mark Levin and wearing something that shows off more of your sexy body,” he rebutted.

That was the last straw. I grabbed the beer from his hand and threw it in his face.

“You are a deplorable,”

He laughed. “And proud of it, baby,”

I stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room, hoping to find the person that needed the ride.

The first person I saw was a girl named Candace Nightingale- quite possibly the dumbest student in our school. I was assigned to her for peer to peer tutoring, and it was an impossible task. Every time I tried to help her understand basic math or reading, within moments she would be scrolling Instagram or TikTok or ‘snapping’ with a friend.

Today she was dressed in tight shorts that left about half of her buttcheeks visible, a skimpy crop top that exposed her bejeweled navel, and platform shoes more befitting a streetwalker than a high school senior. Her blond hair was styled in pigtails that were clearly going for a “faux innocent” aesthetic, if it could be called that.

“ABBYY- you made it!!” she sauntered over, clearly wasted out of her mind. She hugged me, jiggling her ample bosom in my face.