My Unmarried Pregnant Secretary

5.7

The door chimes sound and a group of new voices come into play.

"Hey, buddy! Find a customer yet? I'm getting bored out there." Bored? I'm the only one in the store and if he looks anything like the door "greeter", today is the day I go missing. And I can't go missing. I have a math test tomorrow.

"Yeah, she went down aisle seven last I checked." Last you checked is correct sir, because I've gone from aisle seven to aisle get-my-butt-out-of-here-before-you-get-the-old-man's-festering-disease-of-death.

Silently charging towards the front of the store, lining against the wall, I duck behind a closed cash register right as the man is peeking down the aisles. I'm not there you fools, you basically told me I was about to be your entertainment since you were "bored". Of course I'm not staying right there!

The guy returns to the front of the store looking uglier than he did fifteen seconds ago. "She's not there, man. I think she's a feisty one, hmm? I love the cat and mouse game." Heck no, pervert. Cat and mouse nothing. This is my life on the line--oh my gosh. It instantly clicks in my head. It's the guy from the school break-in that caused the powder spill.

So he does live in Virginia Beach! I figured he was a tourist who was having a little fun! Not a member of our pop culture society! His little punk man is here, too.

Well, kick my back and call me Accident Prone; I've been trapped.

"Okay, girlie! We know you're in here! And we aren't going anywhere until we find you. We just want a little fun." All the scary, nightmare men start laughing at this and roam around the store aimlessly. But of course; one is headed straight in my direction.

Whoopee, I'm going to get chopped up in the middle of tacky trash mart by a divorced biker man. My biggest dream came true.

Use your dumb brain and find a way out of here!

I turn around frantically trying not to let my heavy, dying breathing sound seem noticeable and see a metal, worn down, lever. Whatever it does better be good because I'm pulling it. For all I care, a mother-ship can come down and abduct me. As long as I'm out of this place, I'm good.

I grab the lever and start tugging on it. This apparently hasn't been used much since it's taking this much of my energy to pull down. Just. Freakin' fall!

The handle falls down and all the power in the store shuts out along with the doors locking themselves. Little "manly" cries of help and protest emerge from the store and I hear people running into things. This didn't really work how I planned. I got them trapped but I'm with them. Swell.

"The brat hit the power button!" Um, it's not a button it's a handle, dumb-dumb.

"I can't see!" Oh really? I never would've guessed we couldn't see in the dark because I can't see eit--

Whoa. At least I thought I couldn't see in the dark. I'm pretty sure nobody can unless you're wearing some embarrassing night-vision goggles. I don't even feel any different. I can just. . . see.

Someone crosses paths in front of me with their eyes as big as can be and arms outstretched in front of them. If only they knew how stupid they looked. Before I know it, he's directly in front of me and touching my stomach, feeling to see who I am. Victim number one. "Hey, man. I think I--mmph!"

Never really sucker punched anybody, but that wasn't supposed to happen. Blue powder filled the area around him and fell to the floor. He wasn't even a human! He was one of those crazy supers who are after me! A crowd of men all huddled together come into view and are coming to the edge of an aisle-way. Immediately, I direct my hand and guide the bakery items to fall on every single person leaving them in a large football-tackle pile up.

Clean up in aisle four and I'm not the one who's gonna do it. Please, I can barely clean my own room.

Staying in my place will only cause more men to fall at my feet so maybe this is the best time to leave the store. Without a second thought I started running towards the exit glass door and burst through it making the glass shatter and spread everywhere. It's like I'm some dirt bomb: anywhere I go there ends up being a giant mess that some innocent person has to clean.

Oh, well.

I hop into my car and pull off down the Lily faster than you can even pimp slap your cousin. I don't think Germany has this listed as a speed limit. Even they'd pull me over right now.

"So you think you can just run from me?" A loud masculine scream comes from me and PeepTom's face cringes. "What's up with the man screaming? Hiding another secret besides the fact you pick wedgies?" Why are you talking to me? You're a creep and one of my nemesis'. We're supposed to fight each other.

"How the hell'd you get in my car?! Get out!" Before I make you get out. He buckles his seat belt in the passenger side and lays a hand on my arm.

"Now, now, Varnika. Calm down. We don't have to fight 24/7. Let's get to know each other. What's your favorite color?" This isn't happening. This really isn't happening. The stalker boy is in my car trying to be civil. And if his hand doesn't magically remove itself from my arm; there will be no hand.

"Shut up and get out. Or I'll put you out myself." And I'm not kidding. I don't have time for his little mind games and then, bam! Snap on me like a flying, mental Cobra.

He begins making this noise with his mouth that makes me want to poke his eyes out. "No can do, Varnika. I need information. Either you tell me what I want to hear, or you can go home and see your father. You're gonna tell somebody the information anyways." Yeah, somebody I trust with information, but not you. You're just making up stuff. He's not in town.

"He's not here."

"Oh, but he is. Now, tell me your favorite color. We'll start off simple." I slam on the brakes of the car and yank it to the side of the Lily. This guy is wrong! My dad isn't in town! He's just not!

"You're lying!" I lean over the car and start pounding on his chest watching him heave in and out, trying to fend me off. "He's not here!" One more rampage of punches and I leaned over the seat breathing heavily, tears falling down my face.

He isn't here. He's not in Virginia. Or Virginia Beach. He's halfway across the country enjoying himself and laughing at me. He's still laughing. Laughing to this day and I can still hear it.

"Think I've found a weak spot. My job's done for now. You'll hear from me again, don't worry." My hand meets the seat once he scratches out of sight. That rude, inconsiderate demon! You don't tell someone to not worry after you've given them fifteen things to worry about!

He's probably tricking me. My dad probably isn't really here and--ugh. He's using this against me, I can already see it: Me hanging up on a flag pole by my day-of-the-week panties. Then be eternally embarrassed because Agastya saw me and grew up in an institution hiding in my white-walled corner rocking back and forth. Hopefully the radio will calm me down.

As soon as I turn it on, of course, it's the news station.

"And yet another Thalia saving has come again, today at the Krapploy Mart, downtown. Cameras show a young girl exiting her car and entering the store about ten minutes ago. A group of bulky biker-men enter after her, the lights go out and she runs out to her car after bursting through the glass panel doors. Investigators say this girl either knows Thalia or she is Thalia. If anyone sees a yellow Porsche you are to call our station immediat--"

Crap. I'm ditching this car. They can find it all they want to but not if I have anything to do with it. I unwrap my seat belt from around me and grab my bag from the back of the car. My mom said she'd make more than one outfit just in case, so it should be in here.

Bingo.

Going through the trouble of putting the outfit on in my small space of a car, hitting my head on the steering wheel, getting stuck upside down and my foot removed from the sunroof to get into the romper, just threw all of my energy down the drain. There has to be some easier way of changing because if it takes this much trouble every time, I quit. It's not like I have a motive to help people right now, it's just to give me something to do.

I jump out of my car and prop the bottom of it into my hands. Little children and parents are all making one big scene around me as if I'm supposed to acknowledge them. What do they want me to do, put the car down, shake their hands, go out for coffee and discuss the seven wonders of the world? No move, this is just too much attention. Go watch a pilgrim movie or something.

Lifting it up, it's way lighter than I thought it would be and it flies in the sky towards the ocean. Bye, bye, Porschetta. You'll always be in my heart. And missing in my bank account.

"Why'd you throw it?"

"Thalia, are you okay?" No, I'm completely and utterly malfunctioning. Of course I'm okay.

"Yeah I'm fine. It's just the, uh, news station was after my friend. . ." The crowd just stares at me. "Okay, bye!" I take off running in between two buildings that's barely enough to allow me to run faced forward. I'm kind of just running at an odd angle. Virginia Beach people must hate me. I don't ever actually talk to them. . . I just ran from them.

Someday I'll be a brave little girl and have a conversation with somebody while I'm Thalia and won't have the urge to pass out. I might have been scared. If that's a thing. If it's not, then it is now and anyone who objects to me can have a small conversation with my bat.

Ahead of me, a guy my age is coming from around a corner, texting on his phone. He looks familiar so I stop walking and stare at him like a creeper. If he were to see me right now, I'd be his worst nightmare. Imagine a girl watching you from a distance with a mask on.

It's scary.

Unluckily for me, he looks up and sees me staring. And what better person for it to be than Agastya? Why's he hanging out in alleys in the first place? He must be like me--no life.

His eyes light up in recognition. "Hey, you're Thalia!" When he's directly in front of me his teeth are shinier than ever. Don't show affection, Varnika. He doesn't know you're, you. And if you blow it by letting him find out, I'm done.

Right, act natural. "Oh, hey, Ry--eally awesome person. I sure am." Stupid.

"Why are you hanging out in a--" His smile drops and he takes a huge gulp that probably was forced down his throat. "A uh. Nothing. I just wanna say you're really cool. . . just. . . cool." Some random puberty moment must've hit him because he sounded just like a little fourteen year old boy. Aw, he's really nervous. So cute.

"Well, thank you. You seem cool too. I say it because I don't know you. Of course I wouldn't know you. Or I might know you because nobody knows which school I go to. And if you did you would recognize me and I'd know your name. But if you did know me, I hope you wouldn't because that'd be bad and you'd tell the news. So yeah, you seem cool." Blah, blah, blah. You're so dumb, Varnika. So dumb, go ahead and blow your identity by talking faster than the auction men. That's not suspicious at all.

The pearly smile-smirk returns to his mouth and he starts biting his lower lip, partially. Is he checking me out? He better not! I'm supposed to be a random girl! And he's taken! You're not single, Agastya, stop! "Okay, then. Don't worry, I wouldn't tell the news anyways. Bye." He sings the word 'bye' and starts sauntering off away from me. Don't ever flirt with the second me again or the first me is going to get upset and go off on you.

I just need to go home, relax, and think of what would happen if an immovable force meets an unstoppable force on glass.

He wasn't home. Not that I was complaining. In fact, I was rejoicing. For once I was absolutely happy somebody lied to me.

And that's the only time I'll be happy with it.

An arm snaked its way around my shoulders. "Hey, Clumsy. How was your day so far?" So far, average. Nobody did anything. Ms. Atharv still hasn't gone back to her old room so that's making her all fidgety and sweaty. Not something that's appealing to an older woman, if you know what I mean.

"Nothing, really. School only started, like, a few hours ago and I don't exactly wake up before six in the morning to do something fun." He laughs at my lame, sarcastic joke and squeezes my shoulder.

"And that's why I'm dating you. Well, what'd you do yesterday?" I stop in my tracks to the lunchroom and tense up. Does he know?

"Why all the sudden interest?!" He backs up from me holding up his hands showing off his Royal Purple graphic top.

"Whoa. Chill, Varnika. I was just starting a conversation." Oh, right--conversing. It's what normal human beings do. I almost forgot.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I'm just tired or something. What'd you do yesterday?" Maybe he won't notice the fact that I completely ignored his question.

"Um, went for a jog, worked out, skipped homework, and met Thalia. Nothing big." Darn. I have to react as if I was any other high schooler: shocked.

I give his arm a playful push and put a fake smile on my face as we walk into the Lakey-Breaky Cafeteria, as they call it. "Shut up! You met her? Was she nice?" Because if she isn't, issues will arise from the depths of my soul.

He takes a peek over at me and smirks. "Yeah, she was pretty cool. Just. . . cool." Those are the same words he used yesterday!

"Did you think she's cute?" At this, he turns to me and grabs my hand in his. Don't panic, Varnika.

"She was pretty, but you know you're better looking. Half her face is missing anyways." How dare he half-insult me! It's a play of words! He's calling me ugly in a pretty way isn't he? "And she was a little too short for my taste." Well, unless I went from 5'7" to 5'5" and back to 5'7" in one day--I doubt it.

"Huh. Okay." He gives my hand a quick squeeze and says he's going to go sit down. That's right, sit your butt down, Agastya because nobody is playing around with you and my inner feelings that anyone would laugh at me for, if they could hear.

When I get my lunch which consists of dusty mashed potatoes and a salty hot dog, I sit down at Agastya's table and see Mean-Butt Decana glaring daggers through me. Girl, back up before I back you into a wall.

"What're you looking at, Wedgie? Need to pick another? Or are you going to run around in a striped bodysuit?" Some soccer and volleyball players look up and stop their conversations just to look at us and what we're doing.

I slam my hands on either side of my tray, partially leaning up from my seat. "I'm looking at a person who shouldn't even be able to be classified as female and wondering why her uniform already has a stain. So shut your face, nobody was talking to you in the first place." A chorus of Ooh's and Burn's come from the table and Decana looks like she's not phased by it.

She looks down at her volleyball shirt and glares back up at me. "It's not a stain, it's an accident and you need to shut your face so you can live to visit Peton's crippled, stupid brother again. What's his name? Dumb-ian?" Right when she was finishing her sentence, Peton comes up behind her with her tray of gunk from just leaving the line and Jannat next to her eating a hound of food that shouldn't be able to be digested.

"What the crap'd you say about my brother?" It's about to go down. Peton may look like an average nerd girl who isn't a loser--but bring up her family, and you're dead for sure. In eighth grade, she jumped two girls for calling her mom fat. The scary thing is that she was the only one fighting them. Basically, they were beaten so badly that they were considered to have jumped. Every time she gets mad--bam; instant ghetto.

Decana's body freezes up and she tries to hide it by mean-mugging everybody as she turns around in her Forest Green, lily pad lunch seat to face Peton. Don't even try, Decana. You're going to get your face imprinted to the cafeteria floor. Just a heads up.

"You heard me, Bore-a. Is that your name? Bore-a?" That's it, you've crossed her.

Peton's jaw clenched and Jannat ran to my side of the table, laying down her lunch tray, munching on some monster sized fries, her eyes never leaving the dramatic soap opera scene in front of her. "Jannat, calm down, you know how Peton--"

"Shut up, Varnika! This is gettin' good!" Oh my goodness; teenagers.

"No, my name's Peton. Thanks for asking." And with her last words she slammed her green gunk-of-a-lunch onto Decana's head, smearing it everywhere and within seconds, all eyes were on those two. People's phones are withdrawing from their pockets, and in random spurts, people are standing up to get a better view from where they are.

Slowly rising, Decana puts her gap on full display for everyone to run away screaming from, and turns to face Peton, eye-to-eye. "You did not just do that."

Patron's lunch tray falls to the floor and she removes her, today, yellow, rectangle-framed glasses from her face and places them on the table behind Decana. "Sure didn't." Without hesitation, Decana shoved Peton into the wall beside our table next to the exit doors. She put hands on her first and now she's already lost the fight before it began. Peton had way more karate lessons than me and her biological parents were street fighters. It's kind of obvious who would've won anyways.

"Spongebob, you need to learn to keep your filthy hands to yourself!" The only thing worse I could think of right now is if Rohan was at school today. She would've been plotting some weird way to make Decana end up in a basement of a hospital with no cameras and no way to hear desperate cries for help.

Peton shoved Decana so hard I know for a fact that I saw her head give a deep face in the middle of it. Face squished, over-bite and all. Peton's blonde hair flew high behind her as she ran forward and started to punch Decana on her forehead, cheek, chin, eEmerylottis--wherever--repeatedly. Decana looked like she was struggling to get out of Person's grasp on her hair and started swinging her fist like she was dancing.

That's just the best way to put it without hurting her feelings.

They both fall to the floor with Decana on top but still getting her butt whooped. This is just sad, Not only is Decana getting beat up. . . but on her mom's birthday, too. Oh well, at least she'll have a "fond" memory of it later on.

Peton gets up from the floor and starts to kick Decana in the stomach, over and over. From afar, all you'd see is a tangle of blonde and brown hair with a random purple streak moving rapidly around a room. If anything, it could be taken as a screamo concert and two girls are just rocking out.