She held the phone in her hands, her grip tight, preventing it from sliding out of her sweat glazed palm. Her face was blotchy, angry welts engraved in her hairline from hours of trying to force the situation out of her head. She couldn't look to her dads for help; she couldn't bear to see the disappointment on their faces. Was her Broadway career over, before it even started? Could she work around her current problem? She needed help: advice. Her mother.
Shelby Corcoran sat in her car, drumming the steering wheel with one hand, the other cradling her throbbing head. Leaning forward out of her seat she rested it onto the wheel, displaying momentary weakness. Her day truly had been shocking. It started in the morning: due to a power cut her alarm clock had wacked out of sync, resulting in a deserved but inconvenient lie-in. thankfully she had washed her hair the night before. She awoke to the sun streaming in through the gap in her binds, and the realisation hit; she would have only 40 minutes to get ready and into her car.
She literally rolled out of bed and into her spacious walk-in-wardrobe, throwing on the first outfit she could see (a black tailored blouse, black skinny-legged pants and a black work blazer, topped off with a pair of towering heels). Despite the time restriction, she looked totally hot. Her hair cascaded down her back, a shiny waterfall.
On her way to work she stopped at Starbucks, grabbing a dark coffee. She had just 10 minutes to get to work; easily achievable. That was until the guy behind the counter tried (and failed) to chat up the stunning woman. Let's just say, he didn't get her number. She then had to walk into her first hour fuming and five minutes late
The rest of the day went along those same lines; her English and Music lessons were a complete bore, average students, little to no talent, with the odd Vocal Adrenalin student thrown into the mix. It honestly wasn't that Shelby didn't care about her students, it's just she found it so frustrating that none of them appreciated the arts. At least Carmel is better than most other schools, the talented teenagers were not bullied and harassed.
However the worst happened when she was in fifth hour English, she was sat at her desk, drumming her polished nails against the top as her class made their way inside. After the late bell rang she began her lesson: immediately gaining the teenagers attention. As she began to explain the reading material set, a knock sounded at her door. Nobody interrupted Shelby Corcoran's lessons. She glared at the door for a fraction of a second, as if daring the person on the other side of the wood to walk in. When no such rudeness occurred, she purposefully walked over to the door and opened it, expecting to embarrass the poor child into leaving the State. However as she opened her mouth to verbally destroy the spotty kid on her threshold, her phone rang out from under her desk, allowing the whole class to let out the collective breath they had been holding. Realizing his mistake and using Shelby's distraction to his advantage, he swiftly retreated back into the corridor and out of sight.
Shelby didn't intend on answering her phone, she didn't intend on reacting the way she did, and she certainly didn't intend on allowing her class to see this undignified side of her.
"Mom, please help me. I'm pregnant."