This isn't about abortion. This isn't about protection. This isn't even about iCarly. It's about teen pregnancy, the difficulties, the fact that any girl can get pregnant if she doesn't know what she's doing.
This isn't a fic with a ship. This is a fic with a reason.
Looking for fluff? Sorry, but you'll have to pass this up.
She stood in front of the full size mirror and put a hand on her stomach. It was getting harder and harder to hide this. Her everyday clothes were growing smaller every few weeks, and now she was wearing sweats and baby doll tops more often. Spencer hadn't mentioned it--he had been busy lately. Sculptures in demand, he said. He didn't know he was going to be an uncle.
Carly sighed and pulled the hoodie over her head. She didn't want this. He was the reason. Griffin. He said he knew what he was doing, that he had done this before. She hadn't. She wasn't even fifteen yet. He said he had protection with him, that he would use it. He didn't. She trusted him, she figured he wasn't all bad because of his Pee Wee Babies. She figured he would help her out after the test came out positive. She figured he would answer his phone when she called him, sitting on the floor of her bathroom. She left a message. He never called back. Cut all ties, the text said. He cut all ties and ran like a coward.
She closed her closet door. None of the clothes she got for her fifteenth birthday fit. All too small. She couldn't even look at them; the bright orange top, the black and white vest, the gunmetal silver skinny jeans. They all reminded her of what could have been. What she could have been. Not what she was. Pregnant.
Abortion had crossed her mind several times, but she couldn't actually do it. Every time she tried to call the clinic she imagined babies. Happy, smiley, giggly babies. She wanted hers to be happy. To smile. To giggle. She always hung up before they said hello.
Mostly everything had changed, even though she didn't want it to. She was moody, and Sam didn't like that. She still came by to visit, but didn't stay for long. She had found some new friends. Just until you feel better, Sam said. Carly didn't like her mood swings either, but it wasn't her fault. It was the hormones. Freddie didn't like how she spent too much time inside. He liked it better when she was eager to get out of the house. Go to Groovy Smoothies, the mall, even Build-A-Bra or Glitter Gloss. But now she just sat in front of the television, saddened at what she never wanted to be. Pregnant. At least not now.
Carly left her room behind. Her bag, heavy with books, weighed down her right shoulder. She sighed again and set the bag on the floor. This was all she really wanted to deal with. School. Why? Because she was a kid, three weeks past her fifteenth birthday. She just wanted to worry about school, the webshow, her best friends. She didn't want to worry about what Spencer would do when he found out. What she would do with her baby. She frowned and picked the books up.
On the shelf by the front door was her cell phone. She picked it up and turned it on. In the blank screen, she saw her reflection. Dark circles found home under her eyes. Her makeup was applied half hazardly. Her hair was brushed, but rested lamely on her shoulders. That pregnancy glow never shone on her face. As much as she didn't like to admit it, this baby was a burden. A major one. Women around the world couldn't have a child, and yet a girl in Seattle had managed to get knocked up by a seventeen year old loser.
The phone rang back to life. There was an unopened text message. I'm sorry, it said. From Griffin.
Too fucking late, she sent.
She pulled on her boots, which sat by the front door. Tossing the phone into her bag, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. For just a moment, she remembered what it was like to be herself. To stress over homework, to wrack her brain for something funny for her webshow. To spend the day at the beach, to hang out at Sam's house.
Stupid Griffin. She should've just stuck with her first impression, that he was a delinquint. There is no second chance for a first impression. Or at least, that's how the saying goes. Isn't it?
Carly bit her bottom lip and left. The baby kicked for the first time.