Handle [1]

This was the second pregnancy test. The first one had been positive, causing me to cry. This second one, however, put a boatload more pressure on me, because there was always the chance it would be negative.1

For some reason, everyone seems to take 3 tests. Why is that? I thought about it, but hey, I'm sixteen, I want to spend my money on other things! So I spent the money I would used on a third test on a bubble gum slurpie with pop rocks in it. Don't judge me; those things are so nasty they're awesome, and besides I needed something to fuel me for the next pregnancy test, if you get my drift.2

I knew the next day I would have to face Painter. It was inevitable, and I hadn't had time to recover from the shock. Not the shock of... it... happening, but the result. Though to begin with I was shocked. I never have thought of myself as very attractive. I'm pretty short, and am kinda... stumpy? I'm not fat, I'm just... stumpy. My hair is usually in a messy ponytail, but that day it did look really good. My sister Kayla convinced me to let her put my hair is hot rollers. I don't wear make-up, but for the exception of a flavorful kind of smacker's lip gloss. I always have a keychain of mini-glosses hanging from a belt loop on my jeans. Yeah, it's pretty rad.3

I still hadn't unlocked the door of the bathroom, I was home alone but wouldn't have left the door open for anything. So I just sat on the toilet seat (yes, that is nasty) and stared at the test. It was still sitting on the counter, on top of a paper towel. The funny thing is while I stared at it, I saw the past and not the future. The thought of a baby never crossed my mind, but instead, what brought about the baby. Honestly, I remember practically nothing from the act, only from before and after.4

We were in the cafeteria and it was pretty dark. We had only the light shining from the kitchen in on us. Right after I made my oxy clean remark, Painter came toward me, walking like a drunk, laughing like a drunk, and he slumped his arm around me. "You know," he said. "You're a good kid. You're pretty, you're smart, and you've got a great sense of humor. And you smell wondeful! I ought to just marry you if I were five years younger!"5

I think he tried to kiss me on the cheek, but I turned to give him the hairy-eye and we ended up kissing. Despite his tipniness it was enjoyable. Painter's an attractive guy, tall, shaggy brown hair, big brown eyes. He has nice lips, soft, and just the right size. So I kissed him again. Yeah, it wasn't just his fault. I was involved. After all, I was the one who was now 'with child.'6

"Mattie!" 7

It was my mom yelling at me. I could just see her. She was probably trudging from the doorway, her arms full of groceries, and Kayla was probably behind her, either fluffing her hair or texting one of her three boyfriends on her pink cellular device. 8

I knocked the test into the trash can hurriedly and smothered it in toilet paper. No one could find it. NO ONE.