It was dark, the bathroom smelt like stall beer and piss, and the sink's faux marble countertop was slippery with excess water underneath my bare butt. Those are the memories I harbored from my first time. It was in the bathroom of a local college bar called Snookers. The guy? I didn't even get his name. He was cute though. He had a shock of disheveled dark brown, wavy hair and blue/gray eyes that were haunting and inviting at the same time. I did not know much about him either. Except that he was a writer who attended Hollis, the local university. That was something we had in common. The writer part. It was my dream to write long, intricate best sellers one day.
Now here I was laying motionless on my bed and five days late for my period. It had been a month since our "encounter". We hadn't even exchanged numbers. I thought it was going to be a one time thing. The pregnancy tests I'd purchased at a drug store outside of town (the rumor mill in a small town was crazy. The last thing I needed was for someone to spot me buying them) were all tucked under my bed waiting for me to take them. There had to be a reasonable explanation as to why I would miss my period. I couldn't be pregnant, right? It was only one time...
Seven minutes. It was written in big bold letters on the front of every box. I guess that was the average time it took a small plastic test to change your life. My Iphone ticked away the minutes. Only three more to go. I sat perched on the edge of the toilet staring at the little white stick. My palms were slick with nervous sweat and my heart was pounding wildly in my chest. I tried to take deep breaths, but nothing could calm me.
A little pink plus sign appeared. My heart stopped all together and dropped into the darkest pit of my stomach. This was not happening... These stupid tests couldn't be accurate, right? I threw it in the trash and cracked open the second box. After waiting the a lotted amount of time the same little pink plus sign appeared. Fears of rage, humiliation, and sadness rolled steadily down my ashen cheeks. This was it. My life was over.
After finally working up the courage to leave my bathroom I holed myself up in my room. I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I was never going to see this mysterious guys from the bar ever again. I didn't even know his name! I was so stupid! How could I get myself into this situation? I smacked my palm against my forehead and grunted with frustration.
I did not go down to dinner that night. I felt like the word "pregnant" was carved into my forehead and once I sat down at the table Ella and Byron would know that I was carrying a mystery man's child. The humiliation was too much to bear.
My alarm clock radio woke me up the next morning. A robotic voice chanted the word "school" over and over again. I groaned and rolled over in my bed, slapping a pillow over my head to muffle the noise. In my panic yesterday I had completely forgotten that today was the first day of school. I tried to ignore the alarm, but there was a knock on my door. It was my mother making sure I was awake.
Rosewood Day sent their students' schedules in the mail during the month of July. This was because they wanted to be sure there were no changes that needed to be made. This meant that I already knew I had Mrs. Levy for homeroom, Mr. Styles for US History 2, Ms. Bailey for Anatomy and Physiology, Mr. White for Honors Art 2, Miss Smith for Trigonometry, Mrs. Ruiz for Spanish 3, and a new teacher, Mr. Fitz for English 3 and AP Writing. It was going to be a long day. Anytime there was a new teacher it took them forever to get used to the strict schedule all faculty and students of Rosewood Day had to adhere to.
My first five classes went smoothly. It was mostly just back to school stuff we were going over. Only forty five minutes until the final bell rang. Mr. Fitz was probably still trying to figure out the bell schedule. I doubted that his class was going to be all that vigorous. He was not even in the room when the class filed inside.
He entered ten minutes late holding a coffee mug and a briefcase. My heart stopped and I gasped audibly. Everyone in the room turned to look at me except Mr. Fitz. I reached up to cover my mouth with my hand, but my eyes never left my new teacher. It took him a few minutes, but he caught my eye. The realization fell over his face immediately and he froze.
The guy from the bar? My baby's father? He was also my English teacher? This was not happening...I ducked my head, pretending to scratch my arm intensely. Mr. Fitz composed himself, too, because he cleared his throat and scribbled his name up on the board. The class started to settle down. Apparently, between the sharing of summer plans and flying spitballs mine and Mr. Fitz' small exchange had gone unnoticed.