When the Lights Go Out {complete first draft}

Day Five - Can We Just Try to Stay Alive?

Friday’s are roller-coaster days

  

“You’re pregnant.”

                  “No, it’s a mistake.” I said quickly. My head was still swirling, my mind was racing, and my limbs were tingling and aching. “Kendal’s not pregnant. They lost… she’s not pregnant.”

                  “Kendal?” Vincent asked in a surprised voice. “…And George?”

                  I tried to nod my head, but the doctor kept a secure hold of my chin, shining a flashlight into my eyes. “No, you’re pregnant.” The doctor repeated.

                  “Pregnant?” Vincent’s mom gasped. I still couldn’t remember her name, and I felt terrible about it. After all she’d done for me. After all the meals she’d cooked, all the times she’d come to see me swim at school for more support, after all the times she’d offered to do my laundry so I could spontaneously have sleepovers with Imogen, then after she went to live with her aunt, and I started dating Vincent, sleeping over with him – in separate beds, of course, not that it stopped us. Not that it ever stopped any teenage couple in love, and curious to explore. I remember, she’d done an awful lot for me, and yet my mind didn’t have the decency to tell me her name.

                  “Did you know about this?” Teddy asked Vincent quietly.

                  Vincent was bright red, and looking pale, almost as if he was going to faint himself. “N-no,” he stuttered. “I had no idea.”

                  “No, idea,” his mom hissed. “Really, Vincent? How could you both be so reckless?”

                  “Come on now, dear.”

                  “No, Teddy, I will not come on. Our son has got his girlfriend – a swimming scarlet, to add – pregnant, and you’re telling me to come on.”

                  “Mom,” Vincent snapped. “Just shut up a minute, will you. I need to think. Stop screaming in my ear.”

                  The doctor pursed his lips, but couldn’t speak because the family behind him began arguing amongst themselves. I was in Vincent’s living room, sitting on the sofa. Apparently, I’d fainted after telling the family about the basement, and they’d called a doctor to do some tests, because they wanted to make sure I was alright, and wanted to find out why I’d faint. I had thought it was because of the trauma of how I died, and having to tell the family about it, but it wasn’t. Obviously.

                  “You need to think!” she continued. “Well, you can think in your room, Mr. You are grounded. You’re not going anywhere. No parties. You’re coming straight home after school. Now get packing. They’re coming to sort out the basement in an hour, on an emergency call out, and you’re going to your aunts. Pack. Now.”

                  “Mom, I’m too old to be grounded.”

                  “You’re too young to be a father!”

                  The doctor cleared his throat. He looked weary, even though he seemed quite young. His dark black hair flew into his face many times, nearly hiding his eyes, which were screaming for them all to shut up, although he was too professional to say anything out loud. I sighed quietly, trying to take this all in. The doctor squeezed my hand reassuringly.