The keys on her phone clicked furiously under her fingers. She let the predictive text do most of the work. They’d get the point of the message, she was sure. Hitting send, she snapped the phone shut and slid down the bathroom wall, ruined.
It just sat on the edge of the basin, taunting her with that perfect blue line.
This didn’t make sense. She’d never let him, you know, inside of her. Sure, maybe things went on for a bit before they put a condom on, but never far enough for stuff to happen…right?
God. What the hell was she going to do? She wasn’t some poor girl out in Frayser. Her parents had money, she was going to go to college, she was going to have a future. But now that stupid blue line had been drawn across her life.
It was a line of demarcation, dividing what was before, and what comes after.
On the floor, her phone started to buzz like a beehive, filling up with messages, and her waiting for the sting. She couldn’t bare to open it. If she did, then all of this would be real, and she would really be pregnant.
In early 2011, the national press caught wind of the rising pregnancy rate at Frayser High School. They called it an epidemic and a failure of the Memphis School System and Memphis as a whole. I couldn’t help but wonder what a privileged girl finding out that she’s pregnant would think about those 90 girls who were pregnant at the same time. Would she think that she’s better than them? Would she empathize with them? Or would she just be a normal, selfish teenager and not think about anything but herself?