One thing’s for certain: I never, ever want to do this again. Notever.
And I’m not even allowed to face all this heartache with the support of the boy I love. Interestingly, and much to his obvious mortification, Tim is treated by the boys like a total legend because he canprovehe’s not a virgin. Even some of the older male teachers have been giving him wry approving looks for having sperm that clearly works. The same teachers who call him a ‘young tiger’ call me a ‘silly little tramp’.
I hate them all. I wish they’d just let me speak to him. Hold his hand for a few seconds. Let me tell him about the way the baby had hiccups inside me the other day and how funny that felt. But we’re kept as separate as chlorine and acid, too big a risk to allow to mix.
During the meeting where we broke the news of my pregnancy to the Head and our form tutor, Tim’s parents and mine requested - demanded - that he and I wouldn’t be allowed to interact, even if supervised. They wanted to completely kill any chance we had of any physical contact, even though the damage was alreadydone. It didn’t make any sense, but they couldn’t be persuaded otherwise, no matter what promises we offered or how much we begged. So he was moved into a different form group, and our timetables were changed so we didn’t share any classes anymore. We’re even kept apart during our lunch breaks. I’m escorted to the drama studio; he’s kept in the sports hall. I think if our parents could have made it that we didn’t so much aslookat each other, they would have.
Sadie does her best to act as a go-between, and I live for the times she recites messages he’s made her memorise for me. It’s something I cling to when the days get hard, as they always do. I know he still loves me. He knows I still love him. All we can do is wait and see what happens, and hope that our families will one day relax enough to just let us breathe the same air as each other.
I have another two months or so to go before the baby comes, which still doesn’t seem real to me. It’s doing well and is developing at the right rate, and at least there’s nothing wrong there; but despite having another person literally living inside me, this is the loneliest I’ve ever been.
And the weekends, where I don’t even see Tim - or anyone - in passing, are the worst days of all. Unfortunately, this was my last week at school before Mum pulls me out for homeschooling for the rest of my pregnancy. I’ve only been in school this long because the Head said this was what had happened in previous cases and Mum didn’t want to piss off the school or the local education authority. Now, though, I’m too close to full term for the school to be comfortable having me there on a daily basis, in case my water breaks in the middle of geography or whatever.
So I have a heavy heart on this particular Friday lunchtime, because after today I have weeks and weeks of solitude with no respite, stuck in an atmosphere so thick with recriminationyou could cut it with a knife. In the months since the doctor’s appointment, Mum has never fully calmed down, and I’m now quite sure she is never going to forgive me. I’ve been hoping that she would eventually show me some kindness, having been through a pregnancy herself and because she can see how miserable it’s making me. But her anger is stronger than her empathy for her daughter.
“It’s gonna be OK,” Sadie whispers to me as we pack up after maths. Lunch is about to start, and I can already see Mrs Singh getting ready to escort me to my designated lunch room. I sigh heavily. “No, really,” she insists, staying quiet and sliding me her textbook and pointing to a note she pencilled in next to the printed algebra sums.
When we get to the courtyard, I’m going to create a diversion. Go to the boy’s loos next to the music room. TRUST ME.
I stifle a gasp, and we exchange a meaningful look. I know she’s been trying to get Tim and me some time together, but the teachers have been relentlessly conscientious in their mission to prevent that.
“Ready to go, Natalie?” Mrs Singh gives me a gentle smile. She’s been one of the more pleasant staff members to deal with; no judgemental looks or arch jokes to build her street cred with the other pupils. Small mercies.
Sadie links arms with me. “As we’ll ever be,” she chirps. I’m allowed to have some company at lunchtime, thank god.
My heart is beating at a mile a minute as we head down the stairs and through the double doors.Will I really get to see him?Even the possibility has lit me up like a Christmas tree. The baby is wriggling around inside me like a kitten on catnip, probablywondering why I’m so fired up. Every cell in my body is on high alert. I only know the scantest details of this plan, but I know I’m going to have to move quickly, and that is no mean feat right now, the state I’m in.
With a final squeeze of my elbow, Sadie suddenly kicks off. “ALEX!” she shouts at the very top of her lungs to a friend of ours, who’s waiting close to the door. It makes me jump, and I knew to expect it. Mrs Singh lets out a startled squeak. “I want a fucking word with you!”
“Oh yeah?” Alex starts storming over, clearly primed for the task. “What’s your problem?”
Sadie squares up, jabbing her finger in Alex’s face. “Where thefuckdo you get off, switching to Team Jacob,and thenannotating the copy ofEclipseI loaned you?! It wassigned by Jackson Rathbone!”
“That’s enough!” Mrs Singh starts, but Alex pipes up.
“It wasnot, youliedabout that, you gingerwench!” And, because they’re seemingly going for broke, they start shoving each other, making the fight physical as well as verbal. It’s so believable that, if I didn’t know them better, I’d be worried. Instead, I want to applaud their performance.
Sadie waves me away behind her back, and it galvanises me into action. As quickly and as quietly as I can, I head towards the music room, keeping my head down as I pass a couple of boys in their football cleats, the type who normally treat me to off-colour remarks. I’m deaf to them in this moment, tingling all over when I shove the door to the boys’ toilets open, ignoring the weird sweat-and-watch-straps smell and the dingy blue walls.
Because he’s there.
As soon as Tim dashes over to me and pulls me into his arms, I start to cry. My emotions are all over the place at the best of times - thanks, hormones - but right now, finally being held by Tim again, even in such an unromantic setting, and enjoying the scent of his skin and hearing him tell me he’s got me… It’s all too much. And nowhere near enough.
He hustles us into one of the cubicles in case anyone else comes in, and I carry on falling apart in his arms the way I’ve wanted to for weeks now.
“Are you OK?” he asks me, kissing my hair and cupping my jaw with gentle hands. “I’ve missed you so much, are you OK?” He presses our foreheads together, and for long moments we just breathe each other in. I can feel his hands trembling, and it’s both heartbreaking and blissfully reassuring to know I’m not the only one miserable at our separation.
If anyone walks in, I’ll keel over and die at the unfairness of it. All I’ve wanted in the past three months is finally here, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to let go of him at the end of these few stolen minutes. Because thisisn’twrong. The way we feel about each other isn’t dirty or juvenile or something to be sorry for. And nor is our baby, who is at least born of love, even if they will be here sooner than is ideal.
Realising that he hasn’t yet felt our baby move, I take Tim’s hand and put it on my stomach, sending a silent plea to our son or daughter to move for Daddy right now. I want him to feel this. He’s missed out on so much, thanks to our angry and narrow minded families, and they’re not things he can get back another time.
Thankfully, the little one obliges, fistbumping their father hard through my belly. And his face…the wonder on it, theamazement in his beautiful blue eyes, will stay with me and sustain me for a long time. “Oh my god,” he whispers, and bends in the cramped cubicle to kiss my stomach, making my eyes fill up again. “Hey,” he says quietly to the baby, “it’s…all gonna be fine. I’llmakeit fine. I…I promise.”
Just when I think I couldn’t be more in love with him…
When he straightens back up, his face becomes determined. “Listen. Jacob said he’d help us.” I blink in surprise. Jacob is Tim’s older brother, and always seemed so remote and timid. I’ve barely spoken to him, other than a quick hello every now and again, and he always stayed out of the way as much as possible, staying in his room more often than not. “He said he’d take notes from me and leave them for you somewhere you’ll find them on his evening bike rides. Can you tell me somewhere? Under a plant pot, maybe?”
I think. “On the wall by the gate… The little lion statue is loose. He can put them under there, if he’s careful.”
