Whore. Slut. Hoe. Bitch. Ass. Huh, you like older men!

What. The. Hell. What kind of rumours have my friends spread?!

I pick up the various notes, all calling me dirty names or accusing me of having a thing for older men, and throw them in the garbage. Wow. Just wow. Either I have some really bad friends or people at this school are just plain assholes.

Sarah comes rushing up, talking before she even gets here. She gives me a bone-crushing hug. She says, "Kathy and Kelly started spreading rumors that you had sex with him, and obviously the crowd didn't like that, since he's an older dude. Hence the notes and shit in your locker." "It's okay, Sarah," I say. She nods and walks off to her 1st hour class, and I walk off to mine.

***

In Science, we get to read again. I'm not sure if Tristan will even talk to me, but if he does, I'm prepared to ignore him. If I can be "just some girl" to him, then he can be "just some boy" to me. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

"Hey, won't-look-at-me person." I look up automatically, then wish I hadn't. His sky blue, intense eyes bore into mine with passion, but I'm determined not to get lost in them. I look down quickly, refusing to acknowledge him. Although it didn't work last time, perhaps he'll finally get the message and leave me be. He pokes my shoulder. "Leave me alone," I say in a cold tone of voice. "Yeesh," he comments. "What did I do?" As much as I'd like to point it out, I stay silent. He, however, continues to talk. "Listen, I just want you to know that I don't believe a word they say. I know you wouldn't have sex with an old guy.  So, just out of curiosity, what did happen?" Touched by his faith in me, I reply. "He raped me." He gasps and mumbles, "Whoever did it is a total jackass." I couldn't agree more.

**2 Weeks Later**

Tristan has been talking to me every day in whatever classes we have together. I must say, I'm quite flattered, even though he drops me like a hot potato whenever Claire is around. I take what little company of him I can get.

***

"Ugh!" I roll over and stop my alarm. But as I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand up, I'm hit with a wave of nausea. I rush to the bathroom and proceed to empty my guts out into the toilet. When I'm finished, I quickly wash my mouth out, pondering. This has been happening a lot lately, but I'm not sick. When I finish vomiting, I can continue with life like I never threw up. Although I do feel a bit weak and I've developed weird food cravings, I don't know of any disease that could ail me in such strange ways. 

Mom has an appointment scheduled with my doctor at 9:00 today. It's almost time for me to leave, so I quickly shower and change into skinny jeans, a band T-shirt, and my converse. I apply some mascara and lip gloss, then toss my hair up into a messy bun. Finally, I walk downstairs and eat the delicious chocolate chip pancakes that my mother has made for me. At a quarter till 9, I get in my car and drive to the doctor's office.

When I arrive, Mrs. Youngling is waiting for me. She gives me a smile, which I return. "So, Miss Foster, I have a list of your symptoms here. Tell me if I missed anything," she says, picking up a piece of paper from her desk. She begins to list them off on her fingers. "Morning nausea and vomiting, weaknes and fatigue, strange food cravings, tender breasts, increased urination, and a missed period." "That's right," I say. She nods affirmatively, then says, "I have a good idea of what you're dealing with here. We'll need a urine sample to confirm it." I nod and give her what she needs.

When the results are in, she sits me down in the office and says with preamble, "Congratulations, Miss Foster. You are pregnant." 

***

After tha fateful doctor's visit, I drive home in silence, thinking. What should I do? I'm 17 years old, for fuck's sake! I can't support a baby! And my mother is getting old. She'll need to retire from modeling soon, and then where will I get the money to keep the baby? Most people in my situation would just abort their babies, but I firmly believe that abortion is wrong. I mean, the baby didn't do anything. It's not right to kill it just because it's mother can't take care of it or doesn't want it. It's not their fault that they're mother got pregnant. I know I can't abort it. I can't simply kill a human being like that.

But how exactly do I plan on raising this child? When it's young, it'll need round-the-clock care, and if I'm working to bring in money, how will I take care of it? So many unanswerable questions jump back in forth in my brain. There is one other option, I know. I can always give up the baby for adoption, but I'm afraid I'll get attached to it. Mothers always love their babies from the moment they're born, and I don't expect to be any different. Which is why I think just letting some stranger take it away would be too hard. But, then again, what other choice do I have? I can't raise a baby on my own.

As I enter the house, swinging my keys in a thoughtful manner, Mom materializes in front of me and asks, "How did I go, sweetheart? What did the doctor say?" I take a deep breath and say, "Mom, I'm pregnant."

***

After I've broken the news to my mother, she leaves the house to buy me some maternity clothes and other things I'll need. We'll go shopping for baby stuff later. When she's out the door, I call Sarah. "Sarah, I'm pregnant." I hear a slight intake of breath over the wire, then utter silence. Finally, she replies, "What will you do?" "I honestly don't know," I say. With that, I end the call.

AN: SURPRISE TWIST! Betcha didn't see that coming, did ya? Don't worry, I'm not crazy or anything like that. This is just going to be a big part of the story late on. Anyways, comment below how you liked it. VOTE!

All my love,

Em