I cleaned up the bathroom and broke down the small box the test had come in. I bought it after dance class before catching the bus home. My dance studio was in Charlottetown and it was the only one around. I hid the box in my room before laying down on my bed. I grabbed my computer from my nightstand and opened it up. I didn't even know where to begin to even search for him. Not many people my age use Facebook, I don't even remember the last time I actively signed in.

I knew I had Walter on it so I went to his page first. It was full of photos of Canada Day family get together. Back before I had cut off my long locks in favour of something shorter. While mom had a heart attacked when I had come with not only shorter hair but also bright purple. It wasn't permanent but it was lasting long enough to my delight.

"You had such pretty hair," my mom murmured as she saw it. She wasn't against hair dye, but mom had a love-hate relationship with her own red hair. She had dyed it back when she was twelve years old, except the henna had turned her hair green.

Dad's reaction was just a double-take when he came home that night. Looking towards his wife for some sort of clarification. Who just shrugged her shoulders, the purple while shocking wasn't horrible. She had seen worse in her days at school as a teacher and now principal.

I did look different I told myself as I noted the Persis had liked the photo. She was apparently in Japan the last time I heard anyway. I took a deep breath before clicking on Walter's Friends list. Scrolling through knowing I had seen Ken's Facebook profile before.

I clicked on Ken's face. It was sadly lacking as a page, or extremely private? Even his photo had been taken sometimes in the past five years. I hovered over the friend request, before deciding against it. Why make it any more awkward?

I had seen him once more before he and Walter flew out for their trip of a lifetime.

It had been awkward.

I was counting out my steps as I dance on the small section of the floor that my dad had made for me in the basement of the house.

I step into the fourth position and Demi plié with left leg to the back, and my arms out. I talk to myself as I go through the steps.

Relevé Passé Devant.

I do my turn quickly, rising, falling as I continue to revolve in front of the mirror. Spotting myself as I whip my leg around. Arms crossing and held up against my body and out again. Up and down, in and out. My tutu bounced with each relevé, sweat slowly soaking through my dark green leotard.

I look in the mirror once more and see Ken in the mirror. I whip around once more before finishing and returning to the fourth position.

I bend and reach for my water bottle as I watch him, stand there for a moment as he reads something on his phone. My pointe shoes tap against the floor as I walk over to the small cd player.

"Walter is in his room," I tell him.

"That is what your mother told me," Ken responded. "You've gotten good at dance," He speaks finally as he pockets his phone. I realize he had never seen me dance before, not on pointe anyway. Joy's wedding was the last time we had seen each other and that just a lot of goofy dances with Walter. Along with an obligatory dance with dad as he made his way through his daughters.

"I dance a lot," I shrug as I wipe the sweat off my forehead.

"Of course, well, I will leave you to it?" He said with a nod of his head as he carefully walked around my dance floor to Walter's room.

You could cut the tension with a knife that afternoon.

Hitting message instead I waited for the chat room box to open.

Walter had warned us the wifi and internet would be touch and go. If they ventured into town they would have it. If not, their phones would be fairly useless to them. Mom and dad weren't thrilled but they had survived college and being long distance as a young family. While dad did medical school without the internet.

Ken and Walter were both history majors with a minor in anthropology. Except they went to entirely different schools for the last six years. Still, they managed to plan this trip between their two groups of friends.

I didn't know what else to say. How does one let someone know that they are going to be a father when there was no relationship to even start with?

I typed a few lines before settling with

'I need to talk to you, call me please' I quickly added my phone number and hit send before I could chicken out.

I set aside my computer and waited watching closing trying to see if he would read my message or even get my message.

I watched for a half-hour, before realizing It was probably in the middle of the night. I reached and closed the laptop. Looking around the small but comfortable room that I had taken over when Jem( my eldest brother) had finally moved out . The light blue walls that had been painted years before.

Still, they suited my preferences more. I never did enjoy sharing a bright colourful room with my two sisters.

I rolled over to my other side. The last half hour was still ingrained into my mind. The positive sign on the test still not seeming all the real. What were the chances of a false positive? Then again I was two weeks later than I usually was. If the app on my phone said anything truthful about my cycle. All I knew was that my breasts hurt and I was constantly feeling nauseous.

I flipped to my back, wiping around the tears that leaked from my eyes. How could I be so stupid? How could I be so irresponsible? All because I had felt left out? Angry? I tried to think about the days, months, years leading up to that day.

I auditioned for Ballet school last year. I had gotten Joy to drive me to Moncton to the Atlantic Ballet School to audition. I wanted to know if I had what it took to be a ballerina. If I wanted I could add Walter telling me he was leaving for his trip before I left for a summer intensive. I was angry that our rocky horror tradition at Halloween would be cancelled. My parents hadn't been impressed when he introduced me to the movie at twelve years old. Then the past three years we dressed up and we drove into Charlottetown to see the movie. It was the first time I saw the other side of him, it was the first time I saw him hold another guy's hand. It was the first time I truly understood Walter was gay. He was always careful watching those around me. Just as I was carefully watching the people around him. I was generally the first one to know if he liked someone. It didn't matter that I was six years his junior. That I was a child in many ways. He always valued my opinion on things.

I groan thinking back to the positive test. I couldn't even imagine what my parents would say, obviously I would have to tell them at some point. There was little chance that I could hide such a fact from them.

I didn't even know how to go about this, how to figure what I needed to do at this point. Everything was a complete mess. Could I even trust a clinic? Everyone knew my Father, any visit sighting of me in a clinic would be asked about. He might not know the reason for the visit because of confidentiality, but he would know that I was there.

I flopped around once more biting into my pillow as I let out a strangled cry. How could I be so god damn stupid? I had one job to do and that was a graduate high school without getting pregnant. I wasn't even dating someone. Fred Arnold and I broke up at the beginning of summer. Not that I had been heartbroken, I broke up with him after tiring with him.

Though he would be the first person who my parents would think of when asking who the father was.

I hear my phone go off. In a moment of panic, I scrambled around to grab. Twisting the blankets around me to the point I almost fell on my twin bed. I sigh when I read that it was from my mother asking me to take out the package of chicken for dinner. I ignored it and turned back to face the wall to wallow in my own self-pity. If she asked, I would pretend that I had fallen asleep out of boredom.

It was late afternoon when I finally stumbled my way down the stairs. I could hear my father on the phone as he sets down his bag. He was tall with brown curly hair that was slowly turning grey. His 50th birthday was in a few weeks, fifty years old, with seven children.

Yes, there are seven kids in total. Though only two of us were still living full time in the house that my parents had first bought when I was born.

Joy is the oldest at thirty years old, the older sister. She was married and was a stepmother to his two children. Jem was twenty-four and the rest of us were born two to three years apart.

"Yes, yes I will swing by tomorrow. I am on call in an emergency for the next few days." I heard my dad say. He turned around at the sound of my slippers and smiled at me. "Perfect, have a good day Tom." He hit the end call on his smartphone and gave me a once over. "Did you even leave the bed today?"

I shrugged, too afraid to even speak to him at the moment. It took me a moment before I managed to remind him that I had ballet that morning. "I danced this morning."

"Of course our Prima Donna," dad's voice was full of warmth. He always made a point to come to my recitals. While ballet school was out of the budget with the twins in college he always made sure that I had my lessons. I had wanted to go to the Ballet School. Except for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, and the National Ballet School in Toronto was far away. Too expensive when it came to room and board. My education fund was for college or university and not dance school.

So it had been a firm outstanding no, no matter how much I cried about unfair it was when everyone else got to pick their own schools. I cried at the unfairness that I wouldn't be able to chase a dream, to see if I was good enough. The most I could do was the summer intensives, which was a cruel compromise in itself. Leaving with a suitcase full of pointe shoes and leotards, for a taste of a life that I would never have. Explaining why despite being accepted into the academic program I wouldn't be back. Then later I would see those friends in those classroom photos in their leotards on Instagram. While I trudged through the hallways of my regular school.

Instead, I made new friends, friends my parents wouldn't entirely approve of if they knew them of them.

Look where it got me?

"Rilla? Are you all right?" His voice was full of concern as he took in my red nose and bloodshot eyes.

"I'm fine," I answered quietly with a shake of my head.

"Which only means you are not fine," My father gives me a look. "We can talk bout it in my study if you want."

"I'm fine," I shake my head. "I'm just tired." Which wasn't even a lie. I was tired, mentally, emotionally and physically.

"Are you having trouble sleeping again?" He asked me. "We can check your vitamin and iron levels to make sure everything is all right?"

"I'm fine, I just had an early morning and long class," I tell him. The last thing I wanted was blood work done on me at the moment.

Dad nodded sympathetically, as he felt him still check me over for any mysterious illnesses.

"You should ask your mother to take you shopping this weekend." My father spoke after a moment. His gaze running quickly over my appearance, taking note of the changes I already saw in my body. Puberty was always a strange time, and having a doctor for a father only added to the awkwardness. Nothing beats having your father notice that you needed a larger bra. Even when it came from parental observance.

In general, my parents were considerate of my aspirations for clean eating. Allow me to become as close to vegan as they would let me over the years. Dad made sure I had the right vitamins and mom tried to find fun recipes.

Ballet was a cruel world at times, you had to be thin. You have to be light enough to be picked up. I was never sure if they knew I had a strange relationship with food. They seemed to be oblivious about it, or they never mentioned it. But they always wanted to know if I ate whatever meal had just passed.

I merely nod and spot my zip up on the chair and quietly embrace myself in its warmth. Hiding from view as I work on chopping the vegetables for the salad. If he only knew the reason why I was suddenly a cup size bigger.

I was chopping the cucumber when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I dropped the knife hurrying to grab it. Bouncing back slightly as it fell off the counter.

"Easy there kiddo," my father chuckled. "It's a phone not a message from God,"

"I'm waiting for a friend to get back to me," I retorted.

"Oh is it a boy?" Dad ribs me. "Do I need to be worried? Do I need to meet him?"

"Ugh! Dad, please stop," I make a face at him as I try to not go bright red. "You are not as cool as you think you are. Plus it's just Di asking if she could borrow one of my uniform skirts for Halloween." I tell as I glance at my phone.

Di was one-half of my older twin sisters. Dad shook his head. Di had refused to wear the skirt that our uniform came with and only wore the grey pants that the boys wore. "Doesn't Nan have one?"

"I don't know," I shrug and scoop up the vegetables for the salad. I could feel my father watching me as I worked. I finished my salad and found the package of tofu Mom had put in a marinade for me in the fridge. My stomach flipped, churning in a way that I did not like. I took a slow deep breath and concentrated on hiding my nausea.

I felt him watch me for a moment before he shook his head and went to change out of his scrubs. It wasn't long before I heard mom's car pull up, and the sound of the lock sound out.

"Rilla darling!" She said greeting me. "How was the dance?" Mom asks when she came through the door and saw me. Dropping a kiss on my hair as she passed by. "I thought I asked you to take out the chicken," she looked over at me when she saw it was still frozen.

"I was sleeping when you texted me," I shrug move away from her. I feel her watch me but shakes her head.

"Where is Shirley?" Mom asks me

"Working? I don't know," I reply. Shirley is a mystery at best, I try to even remember the last time I saw him. Tinkering away in his room on his computer, or playing dungeon and dragons with his girlfriend. He's either at school or still in bed depending on the morning when I even leave the house most days.

"Gil, is Shirley working today?" My mom calls out.

"He has a shift comic book store!" My dad answers from the master bedroom that was on the main floor.

"Well, then I guess it is just us for dinner, did you eat lunch today?" Mom asks me curiously.

"I had a veggie wrap," I respond plainly, though anxious at her questions like I usually was when they asked. "With soy milk," I add for good cause. It's not that she doesn't trust me but she still worries about my diet. Though I know if she had any idea how much I obsessed over it, she probably would be worse about it. They didn't know about how I inspect my body every morning for any slight change.

I watch her nod her approval and stick the chicken into the microwave to defrost. I glance at my phone bringing up messenger. I check with an obsessive need to know. God let him respond to my message.

I click the conversation and my heart drops when I notice that it said Ken had read my message half an hour ago.

No new messages, no hey what's up?

Nothing.

No response at all from him

Thank you for the comments on the last chapter. Hope everyone had a good week, don't be shy if you enjoy this please let me know!

Tina