It Started With a Dance

Tricia and the plague.

For the most part school was fine, I managed to not run into Mr Sparks at all. Of course my luck had to run out somewhere, I have chemistry last period. I snuck in by hiding myself in the middle of a group of giggling girls; I rushed all the way to the back of the lab. When Matt came in he looked around, he couldn’t see me where we usually sit.

            “What’s up with you?” He asked when he sat next to me.

            “You and your girlfriend left me in that bar!” I hissed, and Matt chuckled quietly.

            “You looked like you were having a good time with that guy.” Matt said with a shrug. I blushed, and Matt grinned.

            “A really good time by the look of it.” Matt said a little too loudly. Mr Sparks frowned at us, he was trying to start the lesson.

            “Matt, what is the matter with you? He could have been some psycho-serial killer!”

            “But he wasn’t, because you're still here.” Matt grinned, he was completely remorseless. Mr Sparks was handing out lab activity sheets that we would have to read through in our own time before next class. He was starting at the front of the room by his desk and working his way back. Matt grinned deviously at me.

            “So you finally lost your virginity, huh?” Matt said, once again a little too loud; thank goodness our classmates were ignoring us.

            “Are you ok Mr Sparks? You look a little pale.” Matt asked, I swung my head around and saw Mr Sparks was pale and practically gaping at me. I blushed a red so dark that I must have looked like a dodge ball.

            “I’m fine Mr Turner.” Mr Sparks said tersely, and he continued handing out papers. But as he walked past me on his way back to the front of the room, he gave me a significant look as if to say ‘stay after class we need to talk!’ I gulped and nodded.

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mr Sparks asked wearily, when everyone else had left. I shrugged. He sighed.

            “I figured that if I hadn’t told you at the time, then you never noticed and it didn’t matter.” I qualified. Mr Sparks made an odd choking noise.

            “You thought it didn’t matter?” He hissed. “Are you kidding! Do you have any idea how much of an asshole I feel like right now? It is bad enough that I slept with a student, and now I find out that I robbed her of her virginity as well! Not to mention that I was drunk enough that I didn’t notice.” I started to lose my temper.

            “How do you think I feel? Huh! I remember drinking and dancing, but the next thing I remember is waking up naked with a hangover in your bed!” I started to cry, involuntarily. “I don’t even remember...” I couldn’t finish, I ran. I ran right out of school and all the way home.

After that embarrassing encounter, I avoided Mr Sparks like the plague. I came into class in the middle of groups of people, I sat right at the back with Matt (who was really confused by my behaviour in chemistry class), and I was damn near the first one out the door. I was so embarrassed and ashamed of what had happened that I started to feel sick every time I thought about Mr Sparks and what had happened. It never got easier to deal with, in fact it only got worse as time went on, four weeks after my birthday; I started to develop a phobia about going to chemistry class. I started to feel sick every time I went near the labs. Matt and Lucy were worried about me; apparently I go pale and start to shake whenever I see Mr Sparks outside of class. Six weeks after my birthday, I started freaking out and feeling sick at just the thought of going to school. My Mum was starting to get worried.

            “Sweetie, what’s going on that you don’t want to go to school?” Mum asked me one day. Mum took a big shuddering breath, as if steeling herself.

            “Love, are you pregnant?” She asked.

            “What?! How could you think that?” I screech at her.

            “Well I bought you another pack of tampons, but when I put it in your cupboard the previous box wasn’t opened. And you’ve been looking pale and nauseous lately.” I hadn’t had my period? I tried to remember when I last had my period.

            “Tricia, are you pregnant?” Mum asked again.

            “No!”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I can’t be, I haven’t...” But I had, remember the whole reason that I can’t stand gong to school and seeing Mr Sparks. Mum raised an eyebrow at me when I trailed off.

            “What’s going on Tricia?” She asked.

            “I might be.” I whispered. Mum sighed.

            “When?” She asked.

            “My birthday.”

            “Who?”

            “I, I can’t...”

            “You can’t remember?” Mum asks gently, with disappointment all over her face.

            “I can’t tell you.” I whisper while looking at the floor.

            “Why not?” Mum asked confused.

            “I just can’t, I’m so sorry!” I said as I burst out in tears. Mum hugged me and told me it would be alright.

            “It’s alright, we’ll get you an appointment at the doctor’s and get a scan so we know when your due. Do you want to keep it?” I thought for a moment, do I want to keep it? More importantly could I have an abortion or give it up?

            “I’m going to be sick!” I bolt out of Mum’s arms and sprint for the toilet. Mum followed and held my hair while rubbing my back.

            “I don’t think that I could get rid of it or give it up.” I said when I was finished being sick. Mum nods.

            “I’ll help you sweetheart.” Mum said. I nodded, Mum was a single parent to me, and quite young herself; Mum and Dad were engaged, but he bolted when he found out she was pregnant with me.

Mum was a nurse at the local hospital, and she pulled some strings with the sonographer and got me into a gap between patients. It was fairly routine, so I was told. I am roughly six weeks pregnant, and everything looked fine. My due date is set at 14 March next year. I even have a couple of pictures. Mum looked at me when I asked for an extra, we got one each and I got an extra for Mr Sparks. When we got home I got asked, “Do you know who the father is, Tricia?”

            “Yes.” I answered while looking at the floor.

            “And you can’t tell me, is that right?”

            “Yes.”

            “I don’t know who you could have slept with that you can’t tell me who it is, but I’m not going to push you honey.” I sighed in relief.

            “Thanks Mum.”