Mending a broken heart.

Part 5: Pregnant

"Another round ladies, on your toes! On your toes! I need to see you on your toes, or we will start again," coach Davids yells at us as we run around the volleyball court, panting breathlessly.

"I think Beth is pregnant."

Chelsea turns around to look at me, eyes wide as saucers as she jogs backwards, "Repeat yourself. Like now!"

"I could be wrong."

"Have you and Mike talked, since-you know?"

"No. Not a single word."

"Then how do you know?"

"Remember that day I bruised my knee," she nods her head, "well I popped into the pharmacy and after buying bandages, I saw her in the pregnancy and condom aisle. But I could be wrong and she was just you know getting some condoms, which either way chances of her getting pregnant are there," I say panting breathlessly.

"Girls come on, faster, please," coach Davids pleads with us and we pick up our pace.

After two more rounds around the court, Coach blows the whistle and we all stop and walk up to her, hands-on our hips, "Now I need you on your toes, let's go," she blows the whistle again and the team goes onto their toes as per the Coach's request and start sprinting in the same place, calves burning. One of Davids' to go to warm up.

"This year just got more interesting," Chelsea says in between breaths.

"I know," I laugh knowingly and stop, placing my hands onto my hips, panting.

Coach David's blows the whistle once again and everybody stops, some collapsing onto the ground.

Finally!

Physically, this holiday break was not my friend. Not only did I not do any exercises, but I also hate no healthy foods at all and packed on sugary treats. Having to undergo all these is proving itself a painful challenge.

"Since Leya decided to stop," Coach begins, " before I had blown my whistle, we're going to do it again. On your knees, ladies, you can thank her later."

I bite my lip, stopping myself from having to give Coach an excuse considering I almost busted my knee out of its capsule. More emphasis on almost. Excuses don't usually go well when it comes to her, because a person who can't practice is one who can't play.

Everyone on the team groans, sending me dirty looks, "What the fuck, Stanton," some mutter.

The following Monday, with my earphones in and Evermore by the Hollow Coves on blast and calves burning from all the workouts I skid my bicycle into school grounds, past a few late students running to their individual classes. If I have to guess, they either have Sutherland or Fitzgerald as their home teacher. As I park my bicycle, Principle Cress walks out of the school building and I dodge him, just in time, by hiding behind one of the walls. Peeping, I notice another man join him, dressed in a beige suit with slick back gelled hair and just beside him a police officer.

"Well we must be going, but thank you for your time, Mr Cress," beige suit says extending his hand.

"No, thank you for coming."

All three shake hands and just like that the two gentlemen are on their way, leaving Cress to gawk at them with his hands stuffed inside his pockets.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I see Sean stand next to me, but in Cress's full view and before he can finish his sentence I have pulled him back, forcing him to stand behind me. Principal Cress turns his head in our direction but decides to ignore us and walks back into the school building.