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fruitymangopea

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            Flush. I hate throwing up.  It disgusts me.  The bad part is that I have been throwing up for almost a week now; my period was late too.

            Yesterday after school Layney went with me to get a pregnancy test.  E.P.T. the error proof test.  I wondered how accurate that claim really was.  I would just have to trust it.

            I read the directions, took the test, and then waited five minutes as it told me to.  Pink.  Shit.

            “What am I going to do, Chocolat?” I asked as I stoked her back.  She purred in response.

            Close to tears I walked down the hallway to the phone.  Come on Layney, pick up the phone!

            “What did the test say?” Layney said instantly.  I started balling as I recounted my new information.  What am I going to do? I can't handle a baby; I’m only in high school.   I can't get an abortion, that’s just wrong.  I could have the baby then give it up for adoption, but I would miss it to much and would be miserable for a long time.  That way I might never see my baby again.

            “Well, based on what you’ve told me, there is only one thing that you can do,” Layney said.

            “What?” I sobbed, hoping she had a way to solve my problem.

            “You tell your mom what happened,” I started shaking my head, “You go through with the pregnancy, you keep the baby, and you stay in school.  We graduate in a month anyway.  You won't even be showing then.  No one else needs to know.”

            I saw the wisdom in her words, but I couldn’t tell my mother.  That would be just as bad as committing suicide.  I wouldn’t make it out alive.