How dare she. How dare that whore complelty fuck up my life with this….brat that she suddenly wants. And you know what, that child will probably end up just like her, getting pregnant at age 13. I mean, who ever gets pregnant their first time. Leave it to Lorraine Dakota to be the first person that that had happened with me. You know, I bet she probably lied about being a virgin. Yeah, and that’s why she’s pregnant.
So as she walked away completly unmaimed from this shitload I sit here in a crumpled heap wondering what they hell is going to happen to my life. I mean, if it ever gets out that I’m the father, I’m dead. No chance at a soccer scholarship, no big house, no fame. I’ll have to be a drug dealer just to help pay off the little brat that has 50% of my genes. The other half is tainted by the worst mother that baby could ever be brought to the world by.
So I glared at Lorraine’s reciding figure, knowing damn well she was going to get what she deserved for doing all of this to me.
Ok, I thought to myself, This isn’t as bad as it can be. I just need to keep quiet about me being the father. As long as that never gets out, I’m all good.
Like anything ever good happens with me.
I waited at my locker for my other soccer buddies to walk to the locker room to change for practice. They soon came up to me and the first thing they said was, “Did you hear about Lorraine getting knocked up?”
“Hell yes,” I tried sounding interested, “Do you guys know who the father is? I don’t know yet and I was wondering.” Lies, I know. But it wasn’t like Lorraine wasn’t lying on a bed of lies.
My two friends looked at each other then looked back at me with questioning expressions, “What the hell are you smoking Andy?”
“Uhm, we both did the math…which wasn’t hard, considering you’ve been her only sort of relationship…and you are the only father possibility.” I stared at them, slackjawed, at their betrayel. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell Coach.”
“Tell Coach what?”
“Well there’s obviously something you boys want to tell me.” Why did Coach Sanders had that annoying knack of appearing at the worst possible times for me? “Uhh,” Drew looked nervously towards John, unsure of what to do: betray Andrew or the Coach? Coach Sanders simply stood there, crossing his arms across his chest, telling us he was getting impatient, “If you boys don’t tell me what you want to tell me soon, I’m going to make you run laps,” He leaned into John’s face hissing, “Which I don’t think you want to do.” Oh shit! John and Drew hated running. I was doomed! They both glanced between me and Coach, and I knew who they were going to pick, “Coach we were talking about how John, Andy, and I were up late last night drinking soda,” Drew bravely answered. My jaw dropped. Drew lied for me. Coach Sanders leaned away from John and stated, “You’re still running laps to work off all the calories from the soda.”
I didn’t complain one bit. I was hoping I’d be able to run away from the mess that my life was.