Us Against The World

It was always horrible to feel nauseous in the morning, let alone three times in the row. Being sick, however, was a whole lot worse. That was day fifteen. If you thought school toilets were skanky anyway, just wait until you've sat on the floor, hugging the toilet bowl for the best part of fifteen minutes… Whilst your friend tries to stop the first years coming in and gawping at you. Oh, the delights of a Thursday morning.

It was, at least, a third of the way into second period when I managed to stop retching into the bowl and groggily stand up. Ceri had finally managed to beat back the onslaught of eleven year olds who were trying to delay their way to Spanish class, and was perched of one of the sinks, swinging her legs and picking at her nails.

"Really," she said, as I flushed away some really gross looking contents and moved over to the unoccupied sink. "Is it even possible for anyone to be ill this many times in one term?"

Ill – that was why she thought I had been off recently. Only ill.

"I'm not ill," I muttered, washing my mouth out with tap water. "It's just acid because I didn't eat this morning… Got any gum?"

She pulled a stick out of her blazer pocket and gave it to me. "Ev, you just vomited up everything that's entered your digestive track in the past week. You've probably got food poisoning, or something… Or that winter vomiting bug that you said Melanie's had recently."

Winter vomiting bug. Just another thing to add to the list of things she didn't know about. Then again, it was only the evening before that I had found out otherwise myself. It was just Stephen and Melanie who were also in the house – Cyrus had disappeared somewhere for the night. I'd been completing a biology worksheet when the two of them came in and sad down either side of me, on the sofa. It had started off as usual – the whole "How are you feeling today? What homework is this?" etcetera, etcetera, until Stephen finally ground to a halt, his face softening. "Eva, there's something that Mel and I need to talk to you about." He'd then reached out across my front, taking Melanie's hand in her lap. I simply nodded – I knew what was coming. It had only ever been a question of when for me.

They had shared a silent look over the top of my head, before Stephen had nervously wet his lips. "You see, Mel… Well, we're…" He faltered, avoiding my gaze. I couldn't understand why he didn't just say it. It was hardly something difficult to tell.

Instead, I turned to look at Melanie. I'd become a lot closer to her recently, ever since the incident. I'd learnt that her quietness wasn't out of a condescending fixation, as I'd previously thought, but more out of shyness. She didn't try to be a mother to me – she didn't want that. She only wanted to be there as someone who was supportive, someone who could be talked to, and I appreciated that. Her face seemed much younger then, than it ever had been before. Rounder, healthier, that particular glow. Reversing the hold upon his hand, she gave him a soft smile before turning back to look at me. "What Stephen is trying to say is that…" She hesitantly paused. "We're having a baby."

There was a few seconds of silence. It was only confirmation – I'd known that that was it. But even so, it was still a dull blow. Eventually, I managed to meet her eyes again and murmur "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she whispered, placing a hand gently on my arm. She still looked concerned, however.

"I'm happy for you, really I am."

"We… We honestly didn't expect for it to happen," Stephen began. "We'd tried for so long and failed for so long. We'd given up. And as soon as we did so had, well, it did happen." I stayed silent, for no other reason than I had no idea what to say. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's not that much of a shock… I mean, I did kinda notice Mel chucking up every morning for the past two months."

The two of them softly laughed, looking somewhat relieved. "Yeah, it's not the most conspicuous of things."

Stephen said, his dark blue eyes lighting up. "Do you have any questions that you want to ask us?"

I slowly nodded. I hadn't wanted to ask about it in this way – but it was a prime opportunity. "Yeah. When… When am I going back?"

"Back?" He questioned, both of their faces clouding with confusion.

"Yeah. Back – to the Home." Neither of them spoke initially; they didn't even moved apart from Stephen's brow furrowing slightly. "I understand – of course I do. You wanted a child, and now you're having one. And that's great, really. I'm not needed anymore, and I get that. I just wanted to know when I'm going back-"

"Eva," Stephen interrupted my rambling. "You are winding us up, aren't you?"

I blinked. "About what?"

Mel gently brushed the hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. "Sweetie, we're not sending you back."

"You're not?" That was the only thing that had surprised me – I'd always taken it as the only outcome.

"Of course not," she reached out and pulled me into a hug against her. "What type of people do you think we are?"

"I don't know… But… It's just that I saw Sophie's car draw up as I left this morning." Sophie had been my social worker for the past five years – young, sweet and kind, she drove a yellow VW Bug with fake daisies littered along the dashboard. Unmistakeable.

Stephen slowly nodded. "She came to speak to us about… What happened to you; to make sure that… That it wasn't Cyrus or myself that hurt you. She's coming back at the weekend to speak to you alone."

There was a short silence. "… But do you want me? Here? Do you actually want me here?"

"Yes. Very much so, sweetheart," Mel whispered. "Why on earth wouldn't we?"

It had been impossible to hold back tears as I rested my cheek upon her shoulder and she softly stroked my hair. "It's just… Well, no-one had ever wanted me before."

It seemed strange to believe even the morning after, as I stared at my pale, sallow reflection in the mirror above the sink. It was like a dream – a wistful, hopeful dream. That had somehow actually become true. A great deal of me didn't believe it – not that it had been said, but rather whether it had been meant. But there was no way to ever find out for sure, and I had to try and be content with that.

"You do know that Mr Swan is going to totally bitch us out for being late, right?" Ceri's voice broke me out of my thoughts as I turned to the dryer to dry my hands.

"He won't," I shortly replied. Every staff member had been tiptoeing around me since I'd returned. Lateness, no homework, not paying attentions in lessons – none of then dared to comment upon it. Before, I'd have seen it as a major advantage, but now… Now, I just wanted to be treated normally, like it was before. Not as if I was a frail glass girl who might shatter down in hysterics if anybody so much as dared to look at me in a funny way.

"Huh," she grunted. "You're taking the fall for it then."

"Fine." I muttered, picking my bag up of the floor, from where I'd dropped it in my earlier haste. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," she jumped down off the sink. "But at this rate, we might as well bother not turning up at all."

"French is a very important subject," I mock-lectured her as I pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway. "It's vital to know how to tell some random French person about what you did on your last holiday."

She rolled her eyes, holding back a smile as we neared the far end of the language block. "We could just bring your little lap dog with us and make him do it. He does seem to be around a lot recently." It took me a moment to realised that she meant Cyrus. And then another to agree that what she had said was very true. He'd taken to randomly turning up at points during the day, giving me a nod and a small smile before disappearing again. It was kinda weird, but a nice weird; that he seemingly cared enough to see if I was alright at times.

Eventually reaching our destined classroom, the two of us stopped nervously outside of it, listening to Mr Swan's deep voice rumble from within. He was one of those teachers who you didn't dare to cross. Tall, broad-shouldered and an ex-university rugby player, he was an incredibly physically imposing man. In the three years in which he'd taught me, I'd never heard him shout once, but still no-one dared to act up in his class. No one was ever late, homework was always handed in on time and no-one dared to speak out of turn. Ceri wasn't even her usual misbehaving self in his class. Although I'd earlier been certain that he wouldn't have yelled at us for tardiness, I was a lot more unsure when standing just outside his door. Sharing a shifty look with Ceri, I motioned at the door. "You go in first."

"Right," she nodded, taking a breath and pushing open the door.

Mr Swan immediately halted in mid-explanation of the use of subjectives as the two of us entered, he hand still in mid-air, holding a maker pen against the white-board. His eyes narrowed slightly, before clearing his throat in the silence. "Well, Ceri, can you give me a valid reason why you're twenty-five minutes late to my lesson?"

His voice was cool and hard, and Ceri nervously swallowed, before speaking. "Uh, well, Sir… Eva wasn't very well, and I stayed with her… To see if she was alright…"

His green eyes flickered to where I was standing behind her, seemingly only noticing that I was there for the first time. Slowly nodding, the tense look across his forehead faded and he turned back to the board. "Okay. Both of you sit down and copy the notes from the person next to you."

Scrambling to the back, the two of us took our seats either side of Emerson, who simply raised an eyebrow at both of us in turn. As she pulled her books out of her bag, Ceri let out a low whistle towards me, with a whisper of "Unfuckingbelivable."

The lesson, it turned out, was fairly pointless and trivial. No matter how I looked at it, it was a pointless subject and a very pointless topic. I was extremely grateful when the bell rang, signalling the end of the lesson and start of first break. Very sadly, however, the relief didn't last for very long. As I was making my way hurriedly to the door, Mr Swan's voice cut through the crowd of escaping students, calling me back. He waited, seated at his desk with me standing beside it, until every single person had filtered out of the room and the door had shut. Only then did he look at me, that false look of concern which I'd recently come to see often written upon his face. "Are you feeling okay?"

I slowing nodded, avoiding his disconcerting gaze. "Yes, sir."

"Are you sure? You don't look particularly well. I can write you a note for the health centre, if you want."

"I'm fine, really. Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine."

He looked at me for a moment longer before slowly sighing and leaning back in his chair. "Alright… You can go, now."

Ceri and Emerson had bothered to wait outside for me, only slightly to my surprise. Even less so was when she raised an eyebrow and asked "What did he want to talk about?"

"Oh, nothing," I shortly replied, hurriedly setting off down the staircase which led to outside. I don't think I'd ever walked so fast anywhere in school before.

The two of them only caught up once I'd reached the double-set doors, and was standing looking outside the glass windows to the pouring rain outside. Emerson peered out over my head, pulling a face. "Ew, I really don't fancy going out there."

"Neither me," I muttered, as Ceri frowned at me.

"I think you're keeping something from us," she stated, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm not," I rolled my eyes, feigning frustration. "You're just being paranoid."

Emerson slowly blinked. "Ev… She's right. You haven't been yourself recently."

"So I've changed a bit. That doesn't mean that I'm keeping something from you," I couldn't help but snap. It wasn't something that I wished to discuss with them. At all.

"And now you're getting defensive. What is it?" He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest, his face serious for probably the first time in his life.

"Nothing! There's nothing wrong."

"We're supposed to be your friends," his voice turned quiet. "You're supposed to talk about problems with us."

"Just leave her, Em," Ceri took hold of his arm, beginning to lead him away. "She's obviously got a dose of mega-bitch-PMS. If she doesn't want to share, I don't want to know."

As the two of them turned and walked off up the empty corridor, her words hit me like a kick in the gut. Not due to the scathe behind them, but just three single letters.

PMS.

Shit.

I hadn't even given it the slightest of a moment's thought before – the fact that I wasn't PMSing. That I hadn't been in a fair while. Not even when Ceri had been commenting on the similarities between Melanie and myself had I considered it. Winter vomiting bug – that was the joke. The joke that was never true. It was a horrible feeling – the one of ice-cold dread. The one where you knew that it wasn't going to be okay, no matter what you told yourself. That it was never going to be okay again. The moment when you feel like a rabbit in the headlights of a car – waiting for the impact. Not knowing where to bolt to.

I didn't know what I was doing, where I was going when I began to run. I didn't know when I reached the top of a staircase, finding Ceri and Emerson sitting upon the top step giving me surprised looks. I didn't know when I passed Mr Swan, coming out of his classroom and calling after me. I only know when I reached the end of the maths corridor.

Cyrus. I wanted Cyrus.

I knew he was in his classroom before I even reached it. He was sitting at his desk, flicking through a text book when I stumbled in, the door opening wide and hitting against the wall behind it with a dull thud. He wasn't alone – a year eight form class were in there, sheltering from the rain outside during break. Most of them didn't notice me enter; a few glanced round for a second or so, before turning back to whatever they were doing before. But Cyrus looked up at me, his glasses crooked on his nose, hair askew as always and looking somewhat tired and worn. Somewhat older then he'd even seemed before. But he was there – dorky, uptight, strangely reliable Cy.

After what seemed an eternity of just staring, he eventually just murmured "Hey," before awkwardly standing up. "What's wrong?"

"I… I need to talk to you." I barely managed to stutter out, not realised how much I was shaking until that moment.

"Yeah… Yeah, of course." He nodded, slowly moving towards me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Sit down."

Letting him lead me to his chair, I hurriedly shook my head. "Alone. I need to speak to you alone."

"Okay, okay," he bit his lip, eyes slightly wide before looking up to the class. It seemed that in the few moments I'd been in the room, we'd attracted a lot more attention that I'd initially thought. "Everyone out," he addressed them all, gaining even more curious stares.

"But sir," one of the girls began, looking timid. "It's raining outside."

"Then go in the corridor, in another class room, I don't care. Everyone just needs to leave this room now," he added emphasis upon his last word, and they began to stand, standing up off of desks and chairs, making their way out, grumbling meanwhile.

I was relieved at their exit – less prying eyes and curious ears, but it was not to last long. As one of the last boys walked past, his mutter could clearly be heard. "God, this is stupid. Kicking us out just because he wants to bone her or something. Pft, bone the pathetic crying girl – what standards."

Cyrus then became very still, as I sat on the edge of his desk. Something in his face changed – a dark shadow filtering across it. This, I realised, was him angry. Not the type of angry that he'd been what he couldn't find his wallet; not an angry rage. But a cold angry. A cold, venomous angry. "Andrew," his voice was quiet and smooth, without a hint of its usual rasp.

The boy stopped, a sarcastic sneer on his face as he turned around. "Yeah?"

"What was it that you just said?" Cyrus took a step away from me – a step towards him.

"Oh, nothing." Now with a smirk, he started to walk out of the door.

"Don't you dare leave." Again, Cyrus took another step towards him, a longer one this time, so he stood directly in front of the boy whose smile was rapidly fading. "It didn't sound like nothing." There was a pause, whilst the rest of the kids scarpered, and Andrew was left, looking up at Cyrus who was no longer his off-hand self. He was calm, standing there strongly, his expression hard. "You see, Andrew, comments like the ones you just made are not to be taken lightly. They are not to be made a joke of. People whose circumstances you do not know are not to ridiculed. If you think for one second that you can do so and get away with it, then you are very much mistaken." Cyrus stood up straight once more and raised a hand to point out of the door. "Now, go and stand in that corridor, and do not move until I come and get you. Do I make myself clear?" He nodded, nervously swallowing before backing out. Cyrus swiftly swung the door shut with a clatter, exhaling hard and running his hand agitatedly through his hair. "And people wonder why I don't like kids all that much."

"But yet, against all comprehension, you became a teacher."

He gave me a wry smile, walking back over. "Oh, they're tolerable when they get to your age."

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome," he nodded, placing a hair each on my shoulders before brushing the hair out of my face. "So, what's the matter, hm?"

"I… It's just… Something Ceri said to me, made me think…" I couldn't physically say it out loud. Saying it would make it seem more real. The only thing which did manage to come out of my mouth was a sob, as I buried my face in his shirt, bringing my arms around his waist. He seemed so sturdy there – solid, as if he was never going to disappear. He was something to cling to when all else was rapidly fading. Placing his chin on my head, arms across my back, he gently shushed me, allowing me to cry into him, as he had what seemed so long ago.

With what seemed a very startling bang, the door swung back open, Ceri standing in the doorframe, looking extremely pissed off. "Alright," she stormed in, looking at me as Cyrus nervously jumped away, as if I'd given him some sort of electric shock. "First, you're going to tell me what the hell is wrong with you, and then," she turned to glare at Cyrus. "You're going explain why there's a second year bawling his eyes out in the hallway."

There was a silence, filled only with Ceri's angry breathing until Cyrus spoke to me. "You haven't told her?"

I could only shake my head, as her face turned a dark shade of pink. "So, he knows and I freaking don't? We're meant to be best friends, Eva!"

Screwing up my eyes, I rested my face in my hands. "Ceri, it is really none of your fucking business. Just leave me alone."

"No!" She crossed her arms. "You're to tell me because I'm your friend and I care about you. You can't just shut me out!"

"Please leave." I didn't want to even look at her. I was fed up the selfish behaviour of both of them. Always about them. What I was doing to them. And I'd had enough.

Another pause fell before Cyrus cleared his throat. "Ceri, I think it's best that you do as she says."

"No-"

He moved forwards, taking a gentle grip on her upper arm and leading her out. For once, he actually had power over her. Finally shutting the door once more upon her rants, he turned back, his face softening as he became Cy once more. The Cy I knew and liked – who wasn't a teacher, who was a friend. Who didn't get ratty when I 'undermined his professionalism and authority' or whatever else he liked to pretend he had when at school.

He crouched down in front of me, so we were at the same eye level, gently cupping my face in his palm and wiping away the tears with his thumb. His eyes were soft, no longer icy as I'd once thought. They were more blue than grey at this point – a deep blue, cornflower blue. "Everything is going to be okay, you do know that, right?"

I slowly shook my head, whispering "It's not. You can't promise that."

"You're strong. You can overcome this." When I failed to reply, he sighed, again smoothing my hair out with one of his hands. "Tell me what the matter is, and I'll help."

"You can't. Not this time." His gaze remained steady, unyielding. "Shit, Cy… I… I can't say it. It's means it's real if I say it."

"We all have to face up to it at some point."

I screwed my eyes up once more, unable to look at him. "I think… I think I might be pregnant."