“It’s a perfectly simple question,” she answered. “Are you pregnant?”
Carla looked at her friend, again for support. “Of course I’m not!” The outrage in her voice was palpable, but Georgia didn’t give her a chance to react.
“Good,” she said, grabbing Carla’s long hair. “It won’t kill your baby when I do this, then, will it?” She yanked her hair back with one hand, and punched her in the stomach with the other, forcing Carla backwards towards a cubicle. Then she drove her fist into Carla’s belly a second time, until she was sat on a toilet seat crying. “The next time you see me, either be polite, or walk on past, b***h, got it?”
She turned and saw Carla’s friend stood there, stunned. “And you are?”
“Demi,” replied the stunning mixed-race girl, frozen in shock.
“That goes for you, too,”
