Of Painted Water (Logan Lerman Love Story)

The Potato

"Fuck." Robin breathed deeply through her mouth, running her hands once more through her tangled mess of hair. It was such an odd sight, to see my organized best friend in such a mess.

She was pacing back and forth through the doctors office, a massive sweatshirt covering up the non-existent bump she had convinced herself was present on her abdomen.

Trust me, I had checked.

She was still stick thin, but I will admit she was going crazy, and driving me up the wall in the process. I was sitting on one of the many uncomfortable seats in the waiting area, flicking through a trashy magazine and trying to figure out if the fabric on the chairs was the ugliest pattern I had ever seen or not.

If it wasn't first, it was second. I mean, who chooses orange?

I was also returning the dirty looks from the other women sitting around us, all twitching nervously or tapping their long fingernails on the wooden side table. They had overheard the majority of our conversation when we had first arrived, which was about her being pregnant, and had immediately decided to look down on us for being pregnant in our teen years.

I wasn't even pregnant and they still looked at me like I was the spawn of Satan.

"Robin," I sighed, looking up through my eyelashes "would you please sit down?"

She glanced at me with frantic eyes, fluttered her fingers at me like she was casting a spell on me, and then continued with her pacing.

You may be thinking what a horrible person I am for being so... desensitized to her whole situation, but the truth is that I had tried working the sympathetic friend angle, and all it earned me was a slap to the face.

And she wasn't even the one who punched me.

No, that award goes to Fred, who barely even touched me. We were all at my house, talking about our expectations for her scheduled ultrasound the next day. I had been soothing her and patting her on the arm, making her burst into tears.

Freddy then decided to get up and smack me dramatically.

Because obviously that solves absolutely everything, and didn't make Robin just cry more. When I asked her why she was crying about me getting slapped, she just blubbered about all the pain in the world and how it needs to just go die.

Oh yes, emotional Robin has come to stay.

And Robin also decided that if the baby in her tummy was pronounced healthy and growing at a good rate, that she would tell her parents about it. She also managed to tell me what she was going to do about her religious mother who might just feint when she finds out about the pregnancy.

"Robin?" a nurse poked her head through the swinging door with a kind smile, and Robins eyes widened even more, if that's even possible.

"Ubyeahsuregivemeaminute." Robin squeak/wail/blubber/moaned.

I think her brain just farted and shut down at the same time, to get a response like that out of her.

It had only ever happened once before, in freshman year when the teacher called on her to go first on an oral presentation that she had sort of forgotten about. Robins actually pretty great with winging things, so you would think that she would have been okay in that particular situation. Only problem was that the thing was in Spanish, Robin's least favorite subject.

Somehow she managed to blurt a whole bunch of crap in French, which she had been fluent in when she was younger but had sort of forgotten as she got older. She said some pretty harsh stuff about the teacher, thinking that as a Spanish teacher that Sra. Goodrich would only know one language.