Bad Things

26. Beautiful

Just when it can't get worse, I've had a shit day (No!)
Have you had a shit day? (No!), we've had a shit day (No!)
I think that life's too short for this, I want back my ignorance and bliss
I think I've had enough of this, blow me one last kiss.  

- P!nk.

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"See?" a whispered voice came from behind Camila. "That's the one I was telling you about."

"Wait ... her?" another voice said. "Oh my God, I thought she was just fat. She's not even cute. And she's wearing sweatpants! At school!"

Camila drew in a breath and crossed her arms protectively over the books she held against her stomach as she traversed the crowded hall. She tried to keep her shoulders square and her spine straight, to make it seem like her classmates' words did not affect her.

"Apparently the Ashford quarterback doesn't care about that. Easier to get off."

Giggles and snorts followed Camila as she passed by. One of the girls sighed.

"Have you seen him though? The boy is fine. I don't really blame her for letting him into her pants," she said. "I totally would."

"Gross!" Another girl chimed in. "You know he likes 'em super young anyway." More snorts and giggles. "Plus, he's gonna be sporting one of those jumpsuits pretty soon. Even he couldn't make orange look good."

Camila stopped listening and hurried further down the hall, clutching her books tighter and working them to cover more of her bulging belly. She'd thought once people grew used to seeing her and knowing about her predicament the stares and whispers would lessen. Unfortunately, they hadn't—at least not enough to notice. Camila still heard every one, still felt each as they were flung at her, like arrows shot from a bow, piercing her right through the heart.

Every crossways glance. Every passive aggressive comment. Every giggle hidden behind a hand. They all burned into her like a branding iron against her skin.

Shifting glances and snickers greeted her every few feet as she tried to squeeze her growing body through the limited space between each group of students. Though at this point, she wasn't sure if they were due to her growing girth, the rumors about Shawn's charges, or her unflattering clothing as of late.

Over the past weeks, the frigid days of January had turned to the even colder ones of February. The decreased temperature presented Camila with not only the added complication of maneuvering her unbalanced body over the ice-covered ground, but also the predicament of finding clothing that was both comfortable and warm. The leggings and shirt-dresses making up the bulk of her maternity wear to this point finally met their match in her growing son. When the last pair stretched beyond its ability, she was forced to move to boy's sweatpants—pilfered from Hailee's brother Jason—and one of the numerous t-shirts she'd stolen from Shawn.