Not my story
"Bellamy," her voice rang through the telephone line, sounding urgent in his ear. "You need to come to the hospital. I'm going into labor."
Bellamy snorted. "Nice one, Princess. I'm not an idiot; I know what today is. The first of April. April fools day."
"This isn't a freaking joke."
"Mhmmm."
"I. Am. Eight. Months. Pregnant." She ground out, clearly irritated. She was a good actor, Bellamy had to give her that. But that was the most obvious prank like, ever. Clarke, not finished, continued. "The odds of me having this baby today were not that small."
"Look-- honey. I love you and all, but please, please, PLEASE think of something better to fool me with."
He could tell she was about to retaliate- she was awful hung up on this joke, wasn't she?- but he cut her off, putting the crappy phone the ISD issued to every classroom back in its cradle. The phone promptly began ringing a few seconds after he'd hung up. A few of his students glanced up at him, watching him answer with a "Clarke. Seriously, Princess, I'm in the middle of class. Wait, give me a second."
Clearing his throat, he redirected their attention with a "Guys. When you finish this, I've something fun planned for us to do." All the kids returned to their worksheets except for Veronica.
"Are you talking to your wife, Mr. Blake?" She asked him, dreamily resting her head on her hand. The question spurred all the others attention.
"Um...Yeah I am, actually. But class, come on, work."
But it was too late. The class had already whirled into motion, whispering frantically. Bellamy wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure he heard a couple "Bellarke"'s and at least one "his wife is preggo!"
"I want quiet. Right now!" Bellamy interrupted them, his authoritative voice putting a damper on the class's festivities. "Now, I want a quick answer, because believe it or not I do have to finish my phone call, but what the crud is Bellarke?"
Skye raised her hand. After getting called on, she timidly answer. "A ship. You and your wife- You told us her name was Clarke, remember? Bell-Arke?"
Bellamy shook his head slowly. "A ship?"
"Oh, boy, this is going to take a while," Veronica announced un-shyly, opening her mouth to continue.
Bellamy cut her off. (He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.) "As fascinating as I'm sure this seemingly lengthly conversation will be, I, as you and I both pointed out a second ago, am talking to my wife, and I need to wrap up that conversation before we can properly have this one." He paused, then continued by saying weakly, "So...kids... Worksheets?"
Thankfully, all the kids turned back to their quiz questions, even Veronica.
"Sorry babe. So, are we still pretending you're in labor?"
"Dammit, Bell! I am in labor. If you want to witness your first child's birth and generally support your wife, who is about to be in excruciating pain, get your butt down to the hospital NOW." And with that, Clarke Blake, the eight-month pregnant woman, hung up.
Bellamy was many things, but he wasn't stupid. He knew his wife- very well, thank you very much. He knew that she never cursed, hated cursing. He knew that when she did curse (once in a blue moon) she meant business. He also knew that when she got that certain tone in her voice, you couldn't contradict her and expect to walk away unharmed. That tone was reserved for her I'm-so-done-with-today-and-you-but-I-have-to-get-this-done-so-just-listen-up-and-STOP-TALKING moods, complete with facial expressions and hand gestures.
Bellamy also knew if he didn't 'get his butt down to the hospital NOW,' as his lovely wife had put it, he would be very sorry.
"Class. I have to go- like now. I'll get Ms. Monroe to half-sub while she teaches her own class until the office can arrange a real sub. Bye kids have a nice weekend!" And with that, Bellamy was out the door.
