My Unmarried Pregnant Secretary

4.9

When I reach home, I'm a flabbergasted mess. Heaving like I have no sense and walking to my front door like a Barbie doll. You know, how we would move their legs to walk and their torso would slowly lean backwards until her head was on the floor. Yeah, I look crazy.

I don't even bother to introduce myself when I get inside. I ditched the hoodie five blocks ago in a pool to try and fend off the evidence. You can't find prints or hair strands if it's drowned in chlorine right? I hope so, cuz if they can, I'm busted.

"Varnika? When did you go outside?" My mom came out of the living room with popcorn.

"What're you talking about? I was with Agastya, remember?" What's wrong with her?

Her face turns to confusion as she munches on another popcorn kernel. "No? Agastya brought you home about 10 minutes ago because of something that happened at the park. You went up to your room and said you would talk about the date later." She reached for my forehead. "Varnika, are you okay, sweetie? You feel warm."

This doesn't make any sense! I wasn't home! I was out there beating some dude's butt over and over again! I may be really going wacko.

She started to gently push me to the living room couch. "Okay, it's okay, honey. Just sit down and watch the news. You aren't crazy. You'll be fine. You're a normal girl. Have a seat."

What? I'm not crazy mom, stop trying to soothe me like I'm a nutcase.

"In other news, we've just been sent several videos of the Public Disturbance that has happened earlier at Great Neck Park. Some call it a remarkable discovery and others are calling it a fantasy freak show."

The video plays from a camera that's root must've been a bagel because it's the worst quality I've ever seen. But you can tell what's happening. I just hit the ground and the man reappears in front of me. You can't hear anything, but you can see all of the wonders happening. Crap. I am on tape. This is going on YouTube, I already know it.

"People of society are asking; Who is this young girl? Where did she come from? And can we depend on her to help our city in the future? The only thing we know is that there seems to be a mark on her left forearm of an exotic flower. There will be more information after this break."

"That girl almost looked like you for a sec. And if she needs an outfit, I could totally design her one. I can see it now. Cute shoes--" Enough. I need a breather. I didn't even realize I forgot to cover up my mark. Maybe nobody saw it.

"Mom, I'm not feeling so well. I'm gonna go take a nap." Not waiting for a response, I leave the room.

The Lesanie Possible theme goes off on my phone. Jannat texted me.

'Gurllll !!! Best . Feast . EVER !! text me back fat butt and spill about Agastya !'

Please, Jannat, go one somewhere. I barely even had a date.

My spoon dropped in my Frosted Flakes causing milk to splatter.

Hold It Girl. They're freakin' calling me Hold It Girl. What the crap kind of a name is that? Yeah, sure. I pick stuff up with my mind. I researched it on my own and it's called telekinesis. Not Hold It Syndrome.

"If crime comes again, we hope that Hold It Girl can come and help in any way she can. Hold It Girl, if you're listening to this, please know our city, thank you and hope to see you make a difference in Virginia Beach. Up next is the strange dog who got stuck to a tree. . . "

I turned the television off and went next to the back door to put on my army green Toms. They make me sound like a hooker or something. Hold It girl; She's a piece of trash. The name is lame and stupid. It's almost an insult. There has to be a better name for me somewhere.

Maybe I could be like, Imma-Beat-You-Up Girl.

Wait, that is not only corny; but it will get stuck in my throat by gang bangers.

How about Teleki-freak. Ugh, this is pathetic.

I might as well name myself The-Girl-Who-Can't-Do-Akshay.

Suddenly, footsteps are coming towards me. Mom's up? This is gonna be something to see. Normally she's hibernating for the morning.

I can see through cracks in the kitchen door frame, her going down the stairs looking suspicious. Her head was flowing left and right. If this was a silent movie, she'd look like she had no bones in her lanky neck.

She quietly comes into the kitchen with a newspaper, still in her white, silk and half lace nightgown. Her light brown hair looked like a bird's nest. I can practically form out the eggs hiding in it.

She still hasn't come to notice I'm staring at her from across the kitchen even though I'm kind of hidden behind our half wall and countertop.

She cautiously starts to look at the newspaper in her hand with anxiety written all over her body language. Mom, really? You still haven't seen me. Are you that paranoid? What are you even looking at? You're old baby pictures from where you cuddled and stroked staircase railings? That's probably where I picked up my weird eating habit of chairs when I was little. It's your fault.

"So, mom, how long are you gonna stare at that page?" It's been too long and I'm not very patient.

Her body stiffens and she snaps her head up to look at me so fast, I'm surprised it didn't go wandering down the hallway for a stroll.

She doesn't even speak. Her expression is still looking at me and glancing down at the paper in quick bursts. Then she makes a run for it. Her bare feet clamp against our white-tiled floor.

What the heck is she running for? I asked a simple question just to startle her! I drop my shoes I was about to put on and chase after her. Since, as I've said before, I am slower than the average person. And I picked up the slow trait from my mom so basically us chasing each other looks like you racing glue with syrup.

Just slower.

I chase her for about 30 seconds until I turn a corner and she has mysteriously disappeared. This is near the back of my crusty home and there's nothing but a laundry room, empty closet of death and a mouse trap.

Where'd she go? I saw her turn in here!

I hear sputters of bare feet on the hardwood floor passing me from behind and turn around soon enough to see my mom running back towards the kitchen. She's acting like a little child, slow motion running around the house. I'm raising myself.

I dart in the direction she's going and see the perfect chance;

There's a stack of shoe boxes from Zappo's on our bookshelf that she'll reach in any second. I raise my hand and direct them to the floor, blocking her path as they spread across the floor. She squirts back and instantly turns to me with the newspaper shaking with a mind of its own.

"Mom! What's your deal? I was just kidding about chasing you." I started to cross my arms over my chest.

"Uh, nothing, honey. Oh, look at the time, I think you should be heading to school now don't you think? I think so too. I'm quite tired. Why don't you lock the door behind you, yes? Great. Bye!" With that, she sprinted past me and back up the stairs tripping halfway up, causing her to slide, bump and smash her face in until she hit the bottom of the staircase sending the pieces of newspaper everywhere.

I started over to help her sorry butt up, but she flinched and screeched like I was going to go puma mode on her. What the heck is going on?

"Mom! I'm not going to hurt you! Did you have some lemonade before bed again? You know that stuff makes you giddy like you're drunk or something!"

"No, honey," she said, letting out a nervous chuckle that you'd do if you were being forced to chew a dog toy. "It's fine I got it. You go to school now! Bye!" She was gone so fast, it was almost like watching Jannat eating a McRib.

I picked up the pieces of the newspaper she left on the floor. What's she trying to hide?

Scam, Ad, Not-Even-Funny Comic, Subway Coupon, National News Headline.

There's not even anything in here except this nationwide story on some chick.

'Hold It, This Girl's Got It!'

Lame headline. The main photo is of a girl with a disproportionate body, bulging socket eyes and some bruises on her arm. Not to mention this photo was taken by a sippy cup because this is completely pathetic. Who does this chick think she is?

I sLesaniemed down the page.

'. . . In Virginia Beach, VA, the girl everybody wants to meet. Hold It Girl. Seeming to have viral videos on the Internet of a fanatic scene. Superheroes may not be a myth after all. . .'

Oh, crap. It's a freakin' photo of me?! Dude, I am not a photogenic person. I look like I was pulled out of a rat's butt, mopped the floor with my hair and then got my picture taken!

Wait.

Does this mean my mom recognized me? She couldn't have, right? This is a terrible photo! My arm isn't noticeable because I covered up the darned tattoo. She would've said something to me! Yeah, she would've.

She probably really did have lemonade last night. We were missing a can of Minute Maid.

Oh, Varnika. You're always being an i***t. Of course she wouldn't know. If she did, she'd be gathering the Huns from Mulan after you with pitchforks, stupid girl.

7:15.

Crap.

**::**::**::**::**::**

I have about 10 minutes until school starts and I need to calm down. The longer I sat in the car the more I wanted to head butt the window open. It's not like I couldn't do it anyways. I'm a living, breathing freak of nature and nobody knows it.

After walking into the school and smelling the usual collaboration of stink bombs and mayonnaise, I feel a hand grab my butt from the outside of my Bermuda's.

Hecky naw.

I don't care who you are, you don't touch my butt. I don't even like people touching the particles I breathe. Touching my butt is just you begging for an automatic Maury session from me. And I'll make it freakin' happen.

I whirl around to face a smirking guy and some tag-a-long fat-faced losers who think they're cool when really they look like they're walking with action figures stuffed up their back-end. Not just any guy. But that mysterious, new kid. What's his name? Akshay Cabbage? I don't know, it's something stupid and PBS worthy.

His hand went from my butt to my waist. Better; except the fact he's still touching my body.

"Hey, babe. Have you started the project yet?" He started to bite his lower lip. Um, what's gotten into his head where he thinks it's okay to call me a babe? I haven't been a "babe" since I turned two. So excuse you, you mushroom shaped bum. I bet you still haven't even had a girlfriend who didn't think Chicago was a state.

I politely but not so politely smile at him and start to remove his hand from my waist.

"I'm sorry. You have the wrong girl. If you're looking for the trash to roam your grimy hands all over, there's one right over there." I point a finger towards Decana twirling the purple streak in her hair being ignorant.

That muffin-figured scum of the Earth.

He barely glances back and starts to do a humorless chuckle raising his brown, caterpillar eyebrows at me. Keep those bushes above your eyes to yourself, Akshay. It's unappealing to even your own mother. I'm pretty sure she has thick eyebrows too.

"No, I think it's you I was looking for." His breath smells like watermelon gum. I hate watermelon gum. It's revolting and makes me want to stab a Teletubby.

"Okay. If you really want to be with a girl who burps and farts on you. Go ahead. I'm not going to stop you. I will gladly break the wind." I would never be that nasty, but I have to get rid of him. I do burp and fart, but it's not trifling and I'm not blunt about it. It smells like Varnikas and cotton candy.

Just kidding, it smells like pure sewage and diarrhea.

His face turns to complete disgust and his tag-a-longs start cracking up.

"By the way, you touched my butt, which is what I used this morning for 10 minutes. Have fun." As I walked away, the warning bell rang and I instantly regretted what I did. I sounded so grody. I'm not nasty I promise you! I just can't deal with him and his Adam's Apple that pokes out 90 centimeters. He's going to jab an eye out with that one day. I was about to turn and go up the stairs when I heard the delinquents chanting;

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" I turn around and see a bunch of people are crowded in the hallway with phones out and gawking ghetto children trying to film a tussle between people who probably look more like they're having a bromance moment than fighting each other.

A roaming 'Ooh's' goes over the crowd and I walk back rolling my eyes. I can at least see who it is.

Through the bodies I see two manly figures. The one on top has a dark red muscle shirt on beating every living organism out of the person on the bottom. A blow to the head, a blow to the head and a blow to the stomach.

Oh, dang. This is a good fight.

The muscle shirt guy started to be overpowered by the guy on the bottom, causing them to roll around throwing life threatening punches to each other. It's obvious the guy in the red is winning, but it's still challenging.

"Hey! Everybody get to class!" Mr. Hand, the gym teacher for the freshman, came around the corner pushing through the students determined to stand their ground for a good view of the fight..

Oh. My. Gosh.

The red shirt dude is freakin' Agastya. Who the heck is he trying to beat up?! I dodge my head to a Emeryeon's beat trying to see.

Oh, it's just Akshay. Adam's apple, jabbing vulture deserved it.

Man, Agastya looks like the flipping Hulk! Those muscles in his arms pulsing are sending me into full on girl mode. And his chest is rising and falling. I need to remember what it looked like under there! I've seen it before!

Stupid Varnika and your airhead thoughts! Half the things you think are stupid! And you can't remember what his chest looks like bare? Something that's important? Sometimes I'm ashamed that I'm your conscience.

The Oceania blue gaze of his eyes slightly meet mine when he's dragged off of Akshay, heaving heavily, his chest making me crazy like. . . no just crazy.

Agastya's gaze gets darker with fury and he looks back at Akshay.

"Don't touch her again." His arms yanks away, violently, from Mr. Hand's grasp and he storms off toward the school double doors, exiting the building. Was he fighting for me? I promise my dog that I don't have, he's the sweetest thing.

"Hey! Alvins! Get the- I-'' He lets out a loud and agonizing grunt. "I thought I told you all to get to class! Move it!" I'm not gonna say I'm scared of Mr. Hand, but he just made my lungs run home, get a glass of water and come back to me through my throat.

The crowd split faster than when Herrick lifted an arm. Particularly his right one, it tends to smell worse than the left. I grab out my phone as I jog away, checking to make sure no noisy teacher's are around and text Agastya.

'r u okay? I'm sorry if you got upset. we can talk about it if u wanna come over later :')'

Man, I just invited a boy over to my house. And it's the boy who I have a fifth grader crush on. I just set myself up for disaster. Swell.

**::**::**::**::**::**

This food is disgusting. The chicken nuggets look like mashed potatoes. The only thing I like to have for lunch is chocolate milk and a peanut butter jelly sandwich. I picked up my tray and decided to at least try to digest the nuggets, when someone bumps me from behind.

Hard.

It sends my lunch tray flying in the air and my eyes seem to move faster and process everything quicker. I feel rejuvenated as the items fall towards the ground, I catch them in aspiring order, not making a mess. It all happens within a short amount of time.

Awesomeness! I have some fast reflexes! But it's not so awesome that it happened in public. It's kind of hard to make a fast believable lie. I normally have time to think about a backup story for my lies before I tell them.

I look around and see about seven pairs of eyes on me. Peton, Rohan, Jannat and four girls behind me.

Oops. Play it off, Varnika. Play the klutz role.

I release my hold on the tray and let it hit the ground sending the items scrawling across the floor in separate, spontaneous directions.

"It's okay. I wasn't hurt." Awkward silence. "I'll pick them up later." Stares and protruding eyes. Okay, I don't need food. It's not like my stomach is going to burst out of my stomach or anything and go grabbing for it.

I squeeze my way out of the line causing mentally fat children to send me some 'Hey's!'. Calm down you hogs, I'm not going to snatch all the gunk from your deformed tray and go running off with it.

Sitting at our usual table, I begin to wait. And wait.

And wait.

Oh my goodness! How long have I been sitting here? Like 40 seconds? What's taking them so long?

A figure sits in front of me.

Finally, I started to feel misplaced on a shelf or something.

I look up to come face to face with booty boy, Akshay. He's smiling at me with a white band aid across his cheek and noticeable bruises in random areas I didn't even know bruises could go.

"Hey there." He starts to smile showing his teeth this time. I notice his fourth tooth on the top row has some green crap on it. Ew. You dirty little child.

I stare at him with a blank expression. Is he really trying to talk to me after he got pummeled by Agastya for talking to me in the first place? This Mr. Cabbage can't get any more thickly skulled.

He clears his throat. "So, uh, about earlier. I'm not saying sorry because I'm sorry. But because I'm being forced to say I'm sorry by the counselor who's watching me by the door. And if I didn't apologize, I'd be filed for s****l harassment."

Sure enough, over my shoulder by the entrance is Mrs. Gurney, the counselor. I wonder what would happen if I didn't forgive him in front of her.

It's worth a shot.

"How could you say that to me after you already got in trouble for smacking my butt earlier?!" I stood up from my seat, causing a scene. "No I will not go home with you today while your parents are out of town! And I will not lie to the counselor saying I forgave you! You pervert!"

Then I told him hello with my hand to his already bruised cheek. The counselor was by my side in an instant.

Akshay, you Sucka.

"My office! Now, Mr. Savage!" Oh, it was Savage, not Cabbage.

He ruefully got up with a clenched jaw from the cafeteria seat sending threatening, googly stares at me with his oddly, colorful eyeballs.

Backup Akshay, I'm a G in my head.

Once he was gone, I realized that Peton, Rohan and Jannat were all sitting in front of me with unchanging faces.

"What was that about?" Rohan was the first to speak. Her face never even changed. She still has looking devices the size of my foot.

"Nothing. I made it up. I don't even like the jerk. He's the reason why Agastya isn't here, so now I have nothing to secretly stare at during lunch." Did I just--ugh. Another thought out loud. Maybe it's a medical problem?

My cheeks are turning red. I can already feel them.

"Aw! She's blushing! See it guys? Blushing! She's hiding something. I can tell." Well, I'm not hiding it anymore now am I, Peton? Duh.

"I think Varnika lied to us about 'kind of' liking Agastya." Jannat is starting to get an evil smirk. "Last I checked, anytime when the majority of us agree that one of us was lying, that person has to do a round of 'On Command' by all of us."