Pretending to be Pregnant

Six

It was the final lesson of the day and, for the fifth time today, I entered a classroom which dramatically fell silent when I entered. Everybody turned to stare as I walked briskly towards my seat at the front of the class. Nervously, I clutched my satchel towards my body and bowed my head, not meeting the eyes of my tormentors. Luckily, for the first time, Ryan was there, clasping my sweaty, nervous, hand. As we sat down the whispering commenced. Nobody could quite believe what was happening. Out of everybody here, I was the least likely person, in this school, to get pregnant. No, actually, judging by the looks, I was the least likely person in the whole of America to get pregnant.

"I'm sorry." Ryan told me. I nodded as I straightened and smoothed out the bottom of my dress, ensuring it was splayed across my knees prettily, rather than resting halfway up my thighs and showing my underwear. Ryan had been apologising all day, telling me he'd got caught up in the moment and he'd been worried about me getting hurt. All day I'd nodded and told him that it was fine, we were okay, everything was okay.

"I just wished that we'd had time to discuss things before we told everybody." I told him, looking away from his face and wondering if I'd said the right thing. As I sat there, I looked around the classroom. A group of girls were huddled in the corner, whispering with intent and gesturing, every so often, in our direction. The girls were all wearing the same shirt with the same logo splashed across it. I looked away from the logo and gulped. I had previously heard about these girls and their shirts. The girls were highly religious and thus. completely against sex before marriage and therefore, they were enemies with practically the whole school. However, the one thing that struck me was their shirt. According to gossip, this group only wore their allocated shirts when there was a problem or some dirty truth about a member of the school was revealed. I gulped, realising that they were wearing their shirts because of me and because of my situation. I knew that within the next few weeks I would be invited to one of their cult meetings in order to cleanse me of my sins and ask god for forgiveness. The thought was almost laughable. But I knew that very soon I would be asking more people than god for forgiveness.

I hadn't realised that Ryan had followed my gaze. Of course, he knew the group also. He chuckled.

"Don't worry, they won't dare spread hatred about the president of the school council. Really, you should be more worried about the abortion protests that are about to come your way." I looked him in the eyes, wondering if he was being serious or if he was actually joking.

"I'm not having an abortion." I told him.

"I know that, but nobody else does. I mean, just this morning one of their mad cults was explaining how 'a father had rights' to me today." I giggled, laughing at the thought of Ryan being submerged with pamphlets about a father's rights. Ryan looked towards the group of girls with their identical shirts on. "Anyway, I here Celeste isn't as clean as she makes out." Ryan told me, a hint of a smile on his face. Celeste was the president of the club and claimed to be a proud virgin. However, everybody knew she was lying, no matter how many times she insisted she was right and they were wrong. The group of girls looked at me again with a pitying smile. I slowly raised my hands and gave them a little wave. Each and everyone of them blushed, before quickly scuttling away to their desks, ashamed to be caught. I turned back to Ryan who was dramatically doubled over in silent fits of laughter.

"So, am I forgiven?" He asked, rubbing circles on the palm of my hand with his thumb. I pretended to contemplate the answer to his question.

"Of course." I told him.

"Anyway, my parents are out tonight, why don't you come round? We can discuss this." He asked me, his eyes quickly drifting down to the flat stomach which lay beneath my beautiful dress. Then a thought struck me like a lightning bolt.