Oh, God, not again! Carly thought desperately.
Another wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. She felt it rising in her throat as she rushed down the hallway. She bumped into the lockers as she turned the corner then shouldered open the door to the girl’s restroom.
Carly barely made it inside the first stall when the retching began.
When her breakfast had summarily left her body, Carly weakly stood and went to the sink. She rinsed out her mouth and then splashed some of the cool water onto her flushed cheeks. As she was drying her damp face with a rough paper towel, Carly caught her reflection in the mirror. Her pretty, hazel eyes were dark with stress and fear. Her cheeks looked a little more round than they used to be. But it wasn’t her face getting fat that had her so nerve-wracked.
She said aloud to her reflect, “This can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening, sweetie,” came a sardonic reply.
The sound of another voice startled Carly so badly that she nearly jumped up onto the sink. She whirled around to see a tall, redheaded girl leaning casually up against the far wall, her arms crossed loosely.
Carly stared at the other girl, shocked speechless. How much had she seen?
“Bet you thought it’d never happen to you.” The girl said, “I mean, only slutty girls get knocked up, right? Because having a baby is totally not on the college-bound, parent-approved life plan.”
Carly sniffled.
The girl smiled sadly, but her eyes were sharp. “Well, let me tell you: it can happen to any of us.”
Carly burst into tears. She covered her face with her hands.
“Oh, shit,” the other girl said. “Don’t cry!”
Carly felt an arm go around her shoulders and a wad of dry toilet paper hit her hands. She mopped the tears from her cheeks before taking a deep, shaky breath. She blew her nose.
The girl rubbed Carly’s back, trying to be comforting or soothing, but Carly knew that no amount of sympathy would change her predicament.
She looked up into kind, warm, brown eyes.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you cry,” she said. “I’m Rebecca. You probably don’t remember me, but I was in your World History class last year.”
“Oh. Yeah, um, I do remember you,” Carly said. “You weren’t here at the end of the second semester. I thought you moved away?”
“Yeah, I actually home schooled for a while to get my credits.” Rebecca laughed as she said, nonchalantly, “It isn’t easy to study historical dates with a baby crying her lungs out ten feet from you.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled ruefully.
Carly hesitated. She said, “So, you didn’t move away. I guess, that means you had a baby?”
“You figured that out all on your own, huh?” Rebecca bent down and rummaged through a brown canvas backpack lying on the floor. She dug out her iphone in its pink case. “You aren’t the first teen mom, and you won’t be the last.”
She slid a finger across the screen a few times then turned the screen towards Carly.
“This is Layla Cheyenne,” Rebecca said. “She’ll be a year old in two weeks.”
The picture was of a chubby-cheeked baby grinning toothlessly. A pink bow decorated her halo of softly curled ringlets. Carly gazed at the photos of the pretty baby and spoke softly, “She’s beautiful.”
“You know it! She’s the love of my life. Best thing that ever happened to me.” Rebecca slid her finger across the screen again. “No matter how hard it’s been learning how to be a mom and solve algebraic equations.”
Rebecca pointed at the screen.
“Oo! Here she is in her high chair, eating Cheerios with her fingers. And here we are at the YMCA, taking baby swim lessons.”
Carly’s already reddened eyes welled with tears again. “But I can’t do all that! I can’t have a baby. I can’t even take care of a goldfish!”
Her voice filled with panic and fear. Carly wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes tightly. Maybe she could wish away the reality of her situation.
“Listen, girl,” Rebecca said, “from the size of that baby bump you’ve got going on under that sweatshirt, you’ve waited a little too long to do anything but accept it.”
“This might sound stupid, but… you’re the first person to notice. Or ask me anything. I haven’t even told my moms.”
“What about your boyfriend? Is he going to be around?”
Carly opened her eyes and looked at Rebecca mournfully. “I don’t… have a boyfriend.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an Immaculate Conception, sweetheart.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Carly said, hanging her head with embarrassment. “He was just some guy I met at a party. We played a stupid game. And I guess I lost.”
Rebecca eyed Carly, looking confused and protective at the same time. “What kind of game lands a girl pregnant?”
Carly looked down at her feet in silence.
Rebecca marched over to the bathroom room, flipped the lock, and returned to Carly’s side. She draped an arm around Carly’s back and waited patiently for her to explain.
Carly gathered her thoughts for a moment, and quietly told her story.
“I was in math class. Sarah Mitchell was handing out these pink flyers. I don’t think she meant to invite me,” she admitted, “but Sarah tossed a flyer on my desk, too. The only parties I’d ever been to involved piñatas and paper hats. When I read it, I was excited to go to a real high school party.”
It had been four months since that party–the first real party she’d ever been invited to–and she hadn’t told anyone what she’d done.
Carly continued. “I figured there might be drinking and stuff. I had no intention of getting wasted or anything like that. I just wanted to be there, you know?”
She glanced over at Rebecca, and saw nothing but understanding in her expression. No judgment at all, which was relieving.
“I remember I was so anxious about what I was wearing. I didn’t want to be overdressed, but I still wanted to look nice. I must have changed clothes fifty times,” Carly said. She laughed in spite of herself.
Rebecca patted Carly’s knee.
The two girls leaned against the sinks as Carly spoke again.
“When I got there, I knew a lot of kids from school. Everybody was dancing and having a good time. I hung out in the kitchen for a while, just talking.” Carly paused before she said, “Then Sarah went around with these big bowls. She got everyone to write their names down on slips of paper. I didn’t know what was up, so I just wrote my name down. Like everybody else.
“I found out that one bowl had all the girls’ names. The other had all the boys. When Sarah called two names,” she said, “everyone would laugh, and oooh, and make these dirty comments. Then the guy and girl would go off together.”
Rebecca said, “So you had no idea what was going on?”
“I mean, I was starting to get an idea. I was really nervous and about to take off when Sarah called my name. Then she called Ben Summers. Before I knew it, Ben had grabbed my hand and pulled me into the hall.” Carly continued, “I knew who he was, of course. We’ve been in the same grade since elementary school. But I don’t think we’ve had a real conversation.”
“Oh, honey,” Rebecca said. She frowned and hugged Carly. She knew where this was going.
Carly sniffled. “When Ben brought me upstairs into one of the bedrooms, I kind of freaked out. I didn’t expect him to do anything more than kiss me though, so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to seem like a prude, so I acted like I was cool with the whole thing.”
She took another deep, shaky breath. Rebecca’s gentle, motherly touch soothed her.
In a tiny voice, Carly said, “He didn’t even kiss me.”
It seemed like forever that Carly clutched tight to Rebecca, sobbing, letting out months of self-imposed fear, guilt, and shame. When the bell for the end of the period rang, both girls were shocked back to their senses.
As Carly gathered her backpack, Rebecca stopped her. She looked the other girl squarely in the eye, holding both her shoulders.
“Sarah Mitchell deserves a good slap for running that game. And Ben Summers needs to learn how to put on a condom. But don’t you waste any more time beating yourself up,” Rebecca said, “because it’s too late to do anything but keep this baby. She’s going to need you to start making choices.”
Carly nodded. She knew. She really did.
Rebecca continued, saying, “So you need to think about it. Do you want to keep your baby and raise her? Or let some nice family adopt her? Do you want to let Ben in on the news? Or avoid that whole mess? Hell, you even get to decide if you quit school or stick it out.”
Carly said, “Everyone’s going to look at me differently after this.”
“Maybe. But your life isn’t over. Mine didn’t stop when I got pregnant with Layla. It’s just a different life.” Rebecca said, “You’ll be okay, Carly. There are people who will help. I bet your moms will be there for you, too.”
Carly sighed. “I hope so.”
“And hey? If they aren’t, at least you have an awesome new friend who can give expert advice on teen motherhood.” Rebecca finished with a smile, saying, “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure out what to do next.”
Carly looked back at Rebecca solemnly. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and nodded once. She really hoped she could do this.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Cathy Jones lives on the Crystal Coast of North Carolina. She loves the beach, reading every type of book ever written, inventing delicious recipes, and making up tall tales.
Oh, God, not again!