My Unmarried Pregnant Secretary

5.9

Fail.

Drunk. Everybody's drunk and this bonfire has only been going on for about thirty minutes. Plus, this junkyard is exactly what it's called; junk.

Old cars, old radios, old metals, old bugs, old skeletons. It's all old. If I'd known it'd be like this in here I most definitely wouldn't have been so fast to agree. The only pretty thing here is this bonfire. The fire trickled in front of me with unconscious body's littering the already littered dirt floor.

I probably look like a murderer sitting here with Agastya since we're basically the only sober ones besides a few of the Limbers who are checking out Georgia's foot while she's out. Just a select few with a giant fire and unmoving bodies all over. People would get the wrong idea.

"Agastya, are there any more gram crackers left? I wanna make a s'more, again." He gets up from his cardboard mat and walks over to a run-down end table looking at the snacks people brought.

"Unless you like gram crackers with cigarette butts all over it--no." That just ruined everything. How are you going to have an overload of chocolate, marshmallows, and hangers, but no graham crackers? This party planner Akshayed up, big time.

You don't let everyone get wasted like this. Who's going to be the designated driver? Nobody so I guess they're all camping out here until tomorrow where they can find leeches attached to their bodies. Those creatures are everywhere.

"There's a stash hidden near the back of the junkyard where all the half sober people went, though. They put me in some car. I'll go grab some for you." He starts to walk away and it hits me that if I stay, coyotes and possibly vampires will attack me from behind and leave me to die.

I watch too many movies.

"Wait, no, Agastya! I'm coming with you!" I scramble up from the mat, charging towards him and cling onto his arm secretly feeling the muscles underneath his light orange, grainy shirt. Ooh, muscle! It's like a freakin' brick house! So firm yet soft. . .

"Are you done?" Snapping out of my trance, I look up at Agastya and find out we've stopped walking and I'm just standing here feeling all over his arm. Immediately I remove my hands, position them by my sides and look forward. He's probably not able to see my blush because it's too dark outside. Thank you, mother nature.

"Uh, s-sorry." That was terribly embarrassing. Instead of standing still in fear that I might just be stupid enough to start feeling on his chest, I start to walk forward but am stopped when Agastya grabs my forearm. When I face him he's smiling at me.

"No, it's okay. The car's this way anyways." He drags me to the right and we pass all kinds of things that need to be sanitized. If you were to come here blindfolded and only able to use your sense of smell, you would not even be able to guess that you were in a trash, abiotic, gut-wrenching place.

After walking for forty-five seconds, (I spent my time with Agastya. Buzz off) I hear a small noise from in front of us. Agastya apparently didn't hear it because he's still holding my arm and whistling the tune to "Eye of the Tiger."

"Agastya, stop really quick." If it's what I think it is, then he'd better listen to me and catch on to my hushed tone.

Questioningly, he stops whistling and just stares at me. I squint my eyes and see what's really in front of me and it's the biker's from the mini mart all having a conversation next to a fire. Crap, they hang out here too? We're dead. Or at least Agastya is and I'm the hero that he can't know about. So basically--we're dead.

"What's the prob--"

"Shh! Get in that car!" I shove him towards a raggedy, old, graffitied car whose paint job was due ten years ago, and he gets in, crawling to the driver's seat after narrowly avoiding the gunk put all over the car. This is grody but I don't have much of an option. Sit in a dirty car vs. exposing Thalia to everybody.

Car wins.

After I quietly shut the door, I try to look through all of the grime in the window at the bikers and see nothing but familiar shadows. Big, bulky, machinery figures.

"Can you tell me why we're here? This place is freaking gross." He gives the car a once over with a disgusted look on his face--the one I had when my mom had her. . . thing and I had to plaster the yellow-black cream on it. Never in my life have I ever wanted to barf so much. Or prefer to kiss Jimmothiané again.

"Just stay quiet. I, uh, think I saw something up ahead. Probably a walrus."

"A walrus? Really? You know they live in the Arctic, right? And they like to go in water. I doubt they'd end up in a junkyard and if they did, they'd be dead." You didn't have to call me out on it! I'm stalling, what don't you understand about that? It's simple. Stay quiet, let me be weird, and wait for the all clear.

"Agastya! Just a sec. I'm just--"

"Varnika?" Quit talking!

"I said, shh!"

"But, Varnika--"

"Shush!"

"No seriously--" I whip around in my seat, probably spreading black gunk all over my butt, to face Agastya. These were my favorite jean pants too.

"What?!" Wait, I found out what. Approximately six inches from me, there's a huge, dark, alienated bug about the size of my hand, crawling in my direction. . . and pretty fast, too. "Oh my gosh! Ew! Get away!" I slam myself against the door trying to put space between us, but the little-big, savage, barbarian bug starts to scrabble even faster. Well, this is the end of my cute outfit I spent an hour picking out. It's covered in sticky, gooey, scratchy, stains now.

"Ryaann!" So much for keeping quiet. In a swift motion, I leap across the car and land in Agastya's lap sideways, facing the passenger's seat. For high water's sake, I'm holding onto him for dear life as he grabs the steering wheel, (Which is on the floor), and slams it on the bug, hopefully killing it. That dumb-faced, locomotive, rat-insect monster! I hope you died!

My face is still buried in the crook of his neck, arms hugging his shoulders half because I'm traumatized and half because he smells like Mint Evergreens. A long, exaggerated breath told me this. . .

"Varnika, it's okay. It's dead, see?" Agastya slightly moves me backward to see a big blur on the seat which I guess is the bug. If any bug dies that big, you better be glad it's not alive because it'll suck the life and humor right out of you. It's funny when it's somebody else, but when you're the victim? Entirely new story.

"I take it you're afraid of bugs?" This isn't funny. I almost disintegrated.

"Just a little." He laughs shortly.

"Right. . . just a little," He says, sarcastically. "It's okay though because I'm afraid of potatoes and wolves chasing me around in my kitchen." This is a joke, isn't it? He's playing those silly mind games. I bet he'd stop if I had a tree branch in one hand and a banana in the other. If I'm carrying those two things around; run because I'm getting swingy.

"That's not funny."

"It's not a joke." For a moment we just stare into each other's eyes. The moon is casting a dark shadow to one side of his face, illuminating and adding emphasis on the left side. There's muck smears on his face, too from the car being so dirty. And who knows how bad I look. "Your eyes are beautiful. Did you know that?"

Darn you sun for reflecting on the moon! Now he can see part of my blush! I break eye contact and just stare down at the seat he's sitting on. Leather piece of trash. "Yours are prettier?" That wasn't supposed to come out as a question but I can't really contain myself right now. My mind is getting all fluffy and I can't think straight. . . as if I could on another day in the first place, but still.

He forms a closed mouth smile. "You're bad at this."

"Thanks." I mean, how else am I supposed to take this? His face is less than a foot away from me and his arms are wrapped around my lower back with mine around his neck. This makes a girl go a little crazy, you know. Maybe even driven to insanity.

I notice how close our faces are when I look back up at him and he has this longing--yearning in his eyes. What's he want me to do? He's the man here.

One of his hands slides up my back and gently cups the back of my neck. Crap; tingles.

Slowly, he leans forward and for some odd reason I pull towards him, too. Is this considered an instinct? This is all coming way too naturally for me; it's not like I learned this anywhere else before. All the boys I kissed were forceful and nerdy. I was definitely a confused little child.

When we are so close, you'd have to kind of cross your eyes to see, he looks at my lips and performs a small, short chuckle. No less than a second later, our eyes are closed and we're mouth to mouth--which is probably what I'll need in a little bit if I don't get myself together. I heard there was a girl who died from her first kiss with her crush--I'd hate for me to have the same experience.

His lips are soft and not manipulative in any way, yet they're still guiding our gestures with authority; like dancing. The guy leads the way and motions while the girl follows wherever he goes to keep up. Agastya's grip tightens around my neck and I secure my arms even more around him. In my mind, magical, galloping ponies are sparkling in the shimmer of a rainbow in a grassy field with wildflowers. This is the mind of Varnika Cary.

Our heads bob back and forth as we heighten our kiss together. Him kissing and re-kissing my bottom lip and me stuck with his top one. Occasionally, he'll nibble my bottom lip--not that I notice since I basically lost feeling everywhere. He squeezed my lower back, in my main tickle spot, triggering a small squeak from my mouth. He stops kissing me and pauses lip-to-lip.

"Are you ticklish there?" He asks, murmuring a millimeter away from my mouth. Lying will save me from future damsels in distress situations but I kind of owe him for lying about Thalia.

"Maybe." Just to be mean, he squeezes again and I jerk with another yelp. I'm dying someday because of my secrets.

He smirks at me. "I'll keep that in mind." Without waiting anymore, he plants his mouth back to mine and envelopes me in, nevertheless, another kiss. The kiss is long-lasting and more envious. This is probably my first real kiss and it's nothing like I secretly fantasize about in the unilluminated, darkened corners of my room at an unworthy hour of the night.

I expected a romantic dinner and moonlit stars outside my house in a guy's truck right before he walks me in for the night. Not a wasted people-filled junkyard in a Akshayed up car with unknown substances hovering around and cannibalistic monsters crawling around on the floor.

I run my fingers through the hair above his ear pushing backwards out of second nature and I'm sure I'm only spreading the dark stuff around. His hand that's on my back moves under my chin, his head tilts more to the side and I can feel a small smile playing on his lips. Somebody's excited that for once, we aren't interrupted in our Moment. Kissing lasts for a minute or two. Abruptly, he pulls back, raising his eyebrows and sucks in a deep, minty breath through his mouth whilst running the hand that was behind my neck through his hair after dropping the one that was on my chin back to my back.

"Um." Um? Um, what?! I'm a terrible kisser aren't I? The actions in my stomach drop dead and I can feel them heading towards my booty. If I fart on Agastya this is going to be terrible.

"Just. . . wow. Is that a word? Wow? It's in the dictionary right? Uh, yeah. Wow." Agastya, are you okay? I wasn't that bad! I can kiss a camel's worth at least, so that's a start! "Did I just sin? That. . . that shouldn't have felt so magical. Weird term, but true."

"So is this a compliment? Or your kind way of telling me I suck at it?" He smiles at this with a lost look in his eyes, still.

"Uh, no. It's a compliment. I don't think anyone I've dated has been like. . .that." Yay! I'm not a pathetic loser anymore! Unlike some people's thoughts, who're supposed to support you and be a parent not a druggie, verbal abuser.

"Is your love fest over, Shristi?" Agastya along with me, turn our heads towards the passenger seat and see PeepTom sitting there in his black mask and attire with the random purple eyes. He better not ruin this for me although I already have a bad feeling about this and the ratchet boy sitting here. He's found me in my double life with my boyfriend and he thinks it's funny? Is he trying to make everybody find ou--

Oh my gosh. He's trying to make everybody find out who I really am! He's pushing the limits! That's the whole reason he never told me is because he wants everybody to find out for themselves. This is a sick game. And I don't play well with others. In third grade? Stabbed Chester Walwalsky with my green glitter scissors because he tried to make me play a game with him. Let's just say I had a game of my own.

He just better be lucky that they were safety scissors.

"Varnika, do you know this guy?" No, Agastya--the question is do I want to know him. Or better yet, do I want him to know me?

PeepTom starts to fidget with his fingernails. "Yeah, of course she knows me. We were best buds in elementary. And now she's cheating on me with you. Varnika, babe; I thought you said you were going out shopping today? Why'd I find you here?" That's it. I'm done for. He's lying on me so fluently, I almost believed him, myself.

Agastya, with frustration clearly showing in his face, maneuvers me off of his lap and leaves me crouch-standing in a pile of gunk on top of our already gunky faces and bodies. This looks like tar on steroids. "I don't think she'd exactly date a guy like you who runs around in a mask, right? It's a bit weird and childish."

"Oh, really? She wears masks all the time and you don't say anything." This situation is getting pretty hectic, so I'm just going to sneak out the door and let them be.

I didn't bother to close it as I left and heard them getting in a pretty loud "conversation". Stupid PeepTom ruining my kiss with Agastya! But at least we did it, I guess. The crap in my stomach finally flows out of my butt creating a fart. Great. Now I not only stink, but seem unlady-like.

If it gets too out of control, PeepTom will just pummel Agastya to a pulp. It's not that I don't have faith in him, but he's battling a super villain, bug-eyed, and rejected. I heard they can fight--or at least fight better than an average person.

Rummaging through the junkyard pile about ten feet from the bickering car, I grab a wet cloth, (From I don't know what) and a paper bag that I rip eye holes into. Living the life as a homeless person can't be fun, I know how you feel now. I take my shirt off, leaving my undershirt on, place the bag over my head, and rip my jeans to a tacky, redneck, cut-off shape. This style was never in and if it does come "in" style; I'm leaving Earth and moving to Planet 1145 Robelmonte.

A loud crash sounds from the car and I--unknowingly--fly horizontally to it and take out PeepTom through the passenger door while he's on top of Agastya. Since I don't know how to stop, I guess we can just take a ride like this for a while--you know, me clutching a criminal by his waist looking pretty calm. Just the everyday stuff.

"You scared that I might hurt him?" PeepTom asks as he faces me like he didn't just get ripped out from a car. "I guess you forgot that I can't be tamed. Nice mask by the way; it's an upgrade. Although you might wanna check on Rohan, I hear she's not doing too well." He winks and laughs this weird prep-boy laugh while having his tongue dangle out of his mouth, disappearing from my grasp. Yeah, I guess I forgot he can teleport. . .

Immediately, I stop mid-flight and it's almost one of those cartoon scenes where they run off of a cliff and pause mid-air right before they fall. Because I stop and hover for two seconds before my face eagerly meets the gravel, dirt ground. I turn around and see Agastya getting out of the torn up car. It's hard to believe that moments before I was just kissing him and now I'm in a paper bag mask, shirt gone, ripped jeans and more filthy than Decana is on a good day.

The hard part: Explaining this to him.

I hurriedly take off the cloth and paper bag and make way to him until I'm sure he's staring straight at me. It's either that or he really needs to get his eyes checked. "Hey," I say casually. . . because everything is casual about this situation, right?

"Uh, where'd you go?" We're in close proximity and he looks more like he's flat out confused than he is happy with our movie fantasy half-moment we just shared. I thought I meant something to you, Agastya! I thought we were more than just a girlfriend and boyfriend. We were soul mates! You hater of love!

My hand, out of a nervous habit, reaches for my eyebrow that I itch when I'm making something up. "I left the car to find help and I, uh. . . got into some stuff."

"Some stuff?"

"Yep."

Quizzically, he stares at me before taking my hand and walking back to the drunk people. "Okay, then. Whatever you say. But I think it's best if I get you home before you end up amputating some part of your body off. That's not a good impression on parents, I heard." I smile at his sarcasm and walk with him to the car, still not caught.

Level: Ninja.

The stupid "super" people have been making more frequent, but scarce, appearances, unlike my father's appearances for the past week and a half. Every one or two days, at least one would show up, exhaust me, get uglier, and disappear. My little outfit has been getting a more worn look to it making the red on the romper dim to a duller color. Not to mention that for the past three days, I've been grounded for back talking to my dad when he came over again. Old, butt-licking surgeon.

I've only been grounded a handful of times before and why am I grounded now? Because my mother hates me and is mad that I'm a size five now; that's why.

"Varnika! I need your help with dinner! We're having waffles!" No friends, no Agastya, no computer and, supposedly, no phone. But because I'm such a rule breaker, I bought a prepaid phone at the pharmacy when I got more tattoo cover-up. Breaking the Law of Emma Cary. I'm just that cool.

I make my way down the wide staircase and into the kitchen. "Why do you need help with waffles? They're pre-made already." When she turns around, her apron is covered in gross material that I'm pretty sure is not in a box of Eggo Chocolate Chip Waffles. "And what the crap is on you?"

She briefly looks down and an airy laugh comes out of her mouth. "Oh. It's from last week, I think. You know when I was making an outfit for the Selena girl? The one who a beaver broke up with? Her."

"That's Selena Gomez and it's Bieber. Justin Bieber, not a beaver." Even Ms. Atharv knows that and she's a century old, basically.

"Whatever, Varnika. Can you look up how to work our toaster? It has like fifteen buttons." I just have to do everything , don't I? All these things are making me mad. I even dropped my math grade to a C, which is another partial reason why my mom grounded me. I hope Mr. Yogi gets stuck with a child who sucks at math. Watch how hard it'll be. Just to see him squirm and quit his job. . . even the thought gives me chills of deviousness.

"I can't because I'm grounded, remember?" She quickly turns right back around and looks me dead in the eye, mouth gaping open.