Bittersweet Melody

Two weeks later.

I'm just standing, on the verge of a nervous breakdown in a dingy grocery store restroom with this little plastic stick in my hand. I take a deep breath as I sit down on a germ-infested toilet to pee on the white stick. Maybe I'm paranoid . . . I probably am. Is it even possible to get pregnant from a one-night stand? Really, I'd never done "it" before in my life, so what are the chances that a baby came out of one shitty night?

I've done my business and I get up slowly from this seat of impending doom. I sigh heavily as I look at the plastic rod.

No. It can't be fucking possible. Why? This is an absolute disaster--abort mission . . . abort! God-damn my luck . . . where was the condom? I was just another number to him, I guess. God, I lowered myself just to be some jerkface's ho' for the night. Ugh! Stupid Melody, stupid, stupid, stupid!

Sorry for all the profanity so soon. I'm just pretty p.o.'d at the moment. My name is Melody Lang, by the way. I am a junior at Fairview High, I love peanut butter, yes I am Asian and I am a total geek. I am a member in a bunch of clubs like the tech group, marching band, ecology club. You get my gist. It's ironic that one of my geeky clubs got me in this huge mess.

Mini recap: It was a perfectly normal Friday night for me. I was sitting in the corner of the stands with all the band geeks at my high school's basketball game; a silver trumpet in my lap. I watched as the jocks on the court pass the ball back and forth to one another. All the rest of the band geeks sitting to the left and right of me are eagerly discussing the upcoming sectional band contest. Major yawn. Sound familiar?

I may be a bit of a geek, but I think the only reason I put up with most of those activities is because of my best friend, and solace, Casey Morrow. Casey can be a total dweeb at times; however, he's also quite charming. He has a nice wardrobe for a guy . . . but he's also gay, so that explains that. He was the first kid who actually spoke to me when I moved to Fairview last year. He sat next to me in Honors Biology, and after my 'sorta' crappy morning, he kindly took me in as a friend. He invited me to come to his ecology club meeting after school that day, and I gladly agreed to come. Since then, we've been rather inseparable.

However, that night at pep band, he was not by my side. He ditched that night so he could go to some academic club meet. I pull out my cell phone and call numero uno on speed dial.

RING! Oh, God, Casey please pick up! RING! Will he be mad at me? Embarrassed? RING! Please don't un-friend me, Casey because I'm no slut.

Finally, "Mel? What's wrong, girlfriend?"

My voice was quaky, "Wha-what? Ha, why'd you assume there's something wrong?!"

"I've been your friend for nearly two years now, girl," Casey turned serious, "Trust me. I know you inside and out. I know that something is definitely up. Now tell me, what's wrong, Melody?"

"Do you mind if I tell you in person?" I asked.

"Not at all," he said, "when will this be, then?"

"Uh," I stammered, "do you think you could do me a solid and pick me up at Marc's Food and Goods store on Westbridge Road? I promise to do you a favor back ... just please come, Casey!"

"Ok, ok, ok!" he gave in, "I'll be there for you in a minute, girly."

Sigh. I flushed the toilet. Out.

-----

The winter air burned my cheeks as I waited outside Marc's for Casey's black Toyota Camry. I put my hand on my belly; it felt so awkward to think that there was something in there ... something feeding off my blood and whatever else babies feed off of. Something just waiting to ruin the rest of my young-adulthood life. I saw the little black car ride into the parking lot.

HONK! Casey unrolled his window; he grinned, "M'lady, your chariot has arrived."

I smiled; he really was a good friend. I hopped in the passenger seat and buckled up.

We began to drive out, "Thanks," I said to him, "Really."

"No problem," he gets onto the main road, "So, are you ready to tell me what's wrong?"

Already? (I'd almost forgotten about problem 'baby-in-the-oven'). I took a deep breath, "Please don't be mad, Casey, but I think I'm pregnant."

He instantly stopped ten yards away from the red light; the car behind us honked, "Furreal? You can't be serious, Mel? I mean, you're not the type to sleep around, right?"

I am frustrated, "Ha, well maybe I am!" I teared up, "Casey, I'm being dead serious," I showed him my little stick with the plus sign; he grimaced, "See?!" I cried, "Clearly there's a a tiny fetus floating around my uterus and I have no clue what the f*ck I'm gonna do!"

He sighed, "It's ok, hon. You can't panic about this. Now, before I give you some real advice, do you mind telling me what got you in this place?"

I shook my head, "No. That's fine, I guess. It doesn't matter anymore. So, I went to pep band last Friday -- it was the game you couldn't attend because of some academic team meet ..."

"Right," he said after my pause, "I remember. Go on."

"Well," I continued, "Let's just say that right after the game, Roger Leeves -"

Casey shook his head clucking, "Oh no, girl!" he snapped at me, "don't tell me you honestly fell for that sonuva-"

"-excuse me!" I interrupted his remark, "but you, yourself, were in this same type of scenario two months ago with Mark Peters after the school play! You thought you'd got HIV from the rumored-to-be-infected jerk-hole, but you turned out to be fine, lucky duck. And you can't even deny Roger's flamin' hot body because he's big, tall, tan, long dark hair and has this sweet boyish face. Don't tell me you've never been in lust before!"

Casey considered this as he started to drive when the light turned green, "I guess you've got that on me. He is a cutie. But so not on your level! So, my little Melody, how did you and Mr. Leeves hook up that night?"

I shrugged, "We just sort of bonded over spilled popcorn. He invited me to hang with his homies and after smoking my very first joint, I lost my virginity to him at his place."

"No kidding!" Casey smirked at me and wagged his right index finger at me, "Oh, you naughty girl, Mel! Excuse me, but should I be serious now?"

"YES!" I yelled at him, but his chill attitude did make me ease up and forget all about my problem, "but here's where things get really bad. So, as we're lying there under his sheets (butt naked together, might I add!), he has the nerve to tell me, 'You've got some nice cunt on you, girl, but ha, I hope you realize I only meant for a one night stand. You're cute, but Bianca--she's my girlfriend--will totally murder me if she finds out about you, hon. Is that ok, sugar?' And NO!, it wasn't f*cking ok! So, I grabbed my clothes, ran out of his house, and stormed home."

"Ouch," Casey winced, "and lemme guess. Your parents were furious with you when you arrived home?"

"Pretty much," I looked straight out the front window, "I mean, they're making me do a month's worth of community service every day after school up at the local hospital. Totally lame ... though some of the doctors and workers there are kinda attractive young fellows ... but what am I saying?! I'm totally preggers and I should completely avoid love and lust for the next nine months unless I want to turn into even more of a damn, effed up whore!"

And then, I just cried. Tears poured out my eyes; Casey handed me a tissue from the Camry's floor. I took it. How the hell could I have been so stupid and naive? Did I really believe Roger was going to stay with me? I think I actually heard he was going around with some girl named Bianca even before my fiasco night ... I guess that fact just slipped my mind when he smooth-talked my straight-edge self into a night full of drugs, sex, and fun times. Really, what the f*ck does it matter if he never even sees me again? Does it matter if he never sees this new product of his DNA? I doubt he'll do anything for me if I decide to keep our little indiscretion.

I recovered from my breakdown, "I think I'm better, Case."

He was relieved, "Good," he pulled into his driveway and parked the car. He gave me a giant hug, and whispered, "I'm sorry, my sweet Melody. You're a smart girl, though. I know you'll do the right thing this time."

I smiled, "Ya' think?"

"Girl, I know," he said in his gay-boy voice, "Like I said, you're smart, you got a 2200 on your SAT and have maintained a 3.9 GPA throughout your three years at high school so far. I think you'll have sound judgement on this issue."

"Thanks," I said and we both got out of his Camry. I walked, just a little more proudly, down two houses and through my front door.