A young girl with a baby on her lap sitting next to Deborah started talking. She was nineteen and her baby was now four months old. She got pregnant after having sex for the first time at a party with a boy she barely knew. She never told the boy.
The next girl grew up in foster care and had been sexually abused by the people who were supposed to be looking after her one weekend. She was now seven months pregnant and living with a new family whom she said she adored. She said she was going to give the baby up for adoption once it was born.
The girl’s stories continued, each one as sad, shocking but somewhat amazing as the other. I admired all these girls who I would have once labelled a bunch of unsightly names.
The next girl spoke, her name was Katie. She was twenty and she wanted to have an abortion. “I haven’t told anyone in my family yet, but the father of the baby wants me to and I think I do too.”
“Remember Katie, it’s your body and your choice,” said Deborah.
“I know,” sighed Katie, “but is it awful that it’s what I want too?”
I exhaled. Someone I could really relate to, I thought.
“It’s not awful at all,” perked up a blonde haired girl a few seats to my left. “I had an abortion two weeks ago and I’m twenty-one but no way am I ready to be a mother. It wouldn’t be right for me, or for the baby. One in three women will have an abortion in their life. It doesn’t need to be looked upon so harshly in my opinion. Do what you feel you want Katie,” she then smiled at me, “I’m Sandra by the way.”
I nodded and then spoke. “I think I’m going to get an abortion too,” I said looking down at my hands. “I feel I’m too young and I won’t be any good to a new child.”
Crystal moved in her seat next to me.
“I understand your choices completely Katie and Amy and I one hundred percent agree that it is the woman’s choice and it is not a bad thing at all. But I couldn’t imagine giving up my little girl. I don’t know why but I can’t wait to be her mum but girls I know exactly how you feel and respect you so much for doing what you feel is right. After all it’s different for everyone,” Crystal smiled and shrugged and I smiled back.
“Lovely words Crystal,” said Deborah. “Now everyone, what do you think is the most misjudged thing people think about young pregnant women?”
This got all the girls talking passionately and loudly. I sat back quiet and listened to everything they said. They were so wise for being so young. Maybe pregnancy did that to you. And they were right too; lots of people would think they were sluts, or part time druggies. I knew this because only a few weeks ago, although I rarely thought of it, they may have been my thoughts too.
“I think it’s insane because it’s like somehow we got ourselves pregnant. We get all the dirty looks and the pursed lips. It’s like no, we didn’t just wind up like this ourselves. There was a boy involved and he walks away unscathed. It’s insanely wrong,” said the girl who grew up in foster care. Carla was her name.
Deborah wound the session up a couple of minutes later and everyone got up to leave chattering away as they did. I walked out into the fresh air.
“Hey, hey Amy wait up,” shouted a voice behind me. I spun around and Crystal was moving slowly, her hand resting on her protruding stomach.
“Wanna talk a quick walk? Grab a Starbuck’s, I think this baby needs some sugar it’s kicking like a mad woman,” she laughed.
I looked at her stomach, the sight of it alien to me. “Here, have a feel.” She grabbed my hand and placed it on her warm stomach. I thought I would hate this but I could feel what felt like millions of little butterflies inside her. I smiled.
“Starbucks?” she asked, starting to walk. I hate to admit this, but I hesitated. Not because I was worried my mum would wonder where I was or because I didn’t want to get the bus home in the dark. I hesitated because, as horrible and awful as this sounds, a part of me didn’t want to be associated with a dirty looking young pregnant girl. Some terrible part of my mind screamed, think of who you are, think of your reputation.
“Are you coming?” asked Crystal, smiling so wide and happy. Screw that, I thought, that was then. I’m not that person anymore. “Coming,” I said running after her.
My Reputation
It wasn’t until I moved school that I got a ‘solid, don’t mess with her’ one. Before that as you know I was the weirdo, the freak and that hurt me so much that anything would be better. Tara had a reputation. Her reputation was doing whatever she wanted whenever she wanted and although not many people were friends with her, those who were loved her without hesitation. My reputation wasn’t like that at all. I guess mine was more given to me. My reputation came along with Luke, he was the first one who noticed me and once we were together I became more noticed. Not for bad reasons, Luke was a good-looking boy but by no means was he a player. I was his first girlfriend and apparently everyone who knew him all his life had bets on who it would be, seeing as most of the boys at this stage had already been associated with someone, he was different in that sense. I was fresh meat and no one ever suspected it would be me. The fact that he had never showed any interest in other girls, beyond the occasional kiss on a night out, could have given the girls reason to hate me; but then the fact that I had befriended Lily who was friends on a low level basis with everyone and the fact that I was already known as Tara’s best friend stopped that too. High school was complicated. So they didn’t hate me, instead they respected me. Instead people actually saw me and they liked me and everyone thought I was one of the nicest girls in our year. I’m not saying this to sound conceited, I’m saying it because it’s true. Sure I didn’t actively know most of them on a personal level, but it’s harder to remain liking someone if you do. Maybe that’s why they all liked me, they didn’t know me. So thus my reputation was born. I was the nice girl, the good girl with the lovely family, the cute boyfriend and rock solid best friends. I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, that wasn’t who I was. I trotted along every day, saying hellos and goodbyes and smiling and everyone was happy. We all have a reputation; we all have a person we’re expected to be. This was mine.
Chapter 7
Over the next week, I met Crystal almost every day. I told Mum I was going to the clinic Dr Foster had suggested and she respected that. Dad still wasn’t happy with me but he at least wished me a good day after breakfast each morning. I was avoiding Luke like the plague for some reason my mind hadn’t yet comprehended, I knew it wasn’t good but he was caught up in assignments at the moment and wanted to get everything done before worrying.
Crystal just got it, and she was funny and kind and so brave. I felt like I could talk to her about all my thoughts and even though she was dead set on keeping her little girl, she didn’t judge me for what I wanted to do.
“So it’s my uncle that got me pregnant,” she shared on our fourth day of meeting. Even though neither of us lived near the Starbucks in Islington, we continued to meet here. It felt like a safe place for both of us.
I almost choked on my caramel hot chocolate.
She nodded. “I know it’s…”