Tuesday

I woke up Tuesday feeling wrecked. I dragged my ass out of bed and took a shower hoping that I'd feel better when I got out. I didn't. Everyone at school knew about the little bastard and I made a complete ass of myself to the only people who tried to help.

"Tish-shy-la?" Mrs. Redmond called from downstairs. She always said it wrong which was funny because Mr. Redmond always said it right. "Tish, honey? Are you dressed yet?"

Like it matters — what ever I put on is just going to come off again. I only had one skirt that still fit so that was a given; I put on the first shirt my hand hit and went to the top of the stairs. "What?" Then I saw Brian standing behind Mrs. Redmond.

"Hi." He waved a bit hesitantly.

Oh god, he's gorgeous.

Oh god, I did not just think that. Please don't let me think that. Not again, not again, not again...

I backed away from the staircase and leaned against the wall. Terrance had looked innocent at first. He had been sweet and nice. And then, the night after he did it, he stopped calling. Literally, the next day, acted like he didn't know me. That was bad enough. But then, two months later, to find out why I'd skipped a period and why I was so sick all of a sudden. Now here's Brian. So Loving. I'm not falling for it. I'm not being fooled again. I heard Mrs. Redmond coming up the stairs and I slipped down the hall. She called my name again just before I closed the door.

Then she knocked on the door. "Tish? Come on, now. Open up. You're going to have to come out some time. Tish? Tish! Open this door! Now come on, Sweetie, it can't be that bad!" She whispered. "He's already seen you naked! He likes you anyway."

I rolled my eyes and opened the door. "He's not my boyfriend! God! I don't like him like that!"

"Oh." She said. "Well. He's here to give you a ride to school and I think he does like you like that."

"No he doesn't." Actually, thinking about it, I didn't know what he wanted. It couldn't be sex, not now. And I didn't have anything. I wasn't popular. "I don't know what he wants."

"Well why don't you let him give you a ride to school and ask him." I looked at her for a minute. "The trick about men," she went on, "is that if you know what they want, you can get what you want." She caught the surprise in my expression and pursed her lips. "How do you think I got Mr. Redmond? Come on, Sweetie. Get your books. You don't want to keep him waiting too long."

She didn't really give me time to react. June Cleaver, the gold-digger? Mrs. Redmond didn't seem the type. I grabbed my book bag and went downstairs. Mr. Redmond was also on his way out the door. He stopped, greeted Brian and kissed the Mrs goodbye.

He paused before closing the door. "Has she eaten anything this morning?" He asked no one in particular.

"Not yet." I said.

"Well, eat. I can't reschedule my meeting today." He left.

"Tish, you told me you'd take care of yourself and the baby." Mrs. Redmond looked worried.

"I will. It's all good."

"Tish, please." She put her hand on my stomach and rubbed gently. The little bastard rolled over — it always seemed to know when she was touching it. "You don't know what she means to me. I know this is hard for you but I promise you, things will be ok for all of us. OK?" She smiled at me hopefully.

I was her latest charity. If she wanted the little bastard so much, she could carry it. "Yeah. Sure. It's all good."

"OK, Sweetie." She kissed my forehead. I waited until she turned around to wipe the wet spot. "You haven't taken you vitamins yet. I think I still have some fruit in here. You can eat that on the way. Tomorrow, I'll make breakfast for you. Brian? Do you think tomorrow you can be here early enough for breakfast?"

He looked at me, open mouthed. "Uh, yeah, sure. I guess."

She watched me take the vitamins with a whole glass of milk. She gave Brian and me each a banana to take with us and gave me a twenty for breakfast when I got to school. "Just to be sure you have enough."

"I'm in the Program. I won't have any pockets." But I put the money in my book bag anyway.

"Well, keep it. Just in case. Alright, now go, shoo! Get to school on time. Oh, and I called that Ms. Scott and gave her my cell phone in case she needs to reach me again. Promise me you'll take care of our little one, ok?"

I rolled my eyes and promised.

It was actually a relief to get into the car. Until I looked at Brian again. He blushed and got very involved with getting the car started. We got about three blocks from the house when words just spilled from my mouth. "I don't date White boys." I didn't look at him.

"Ok." He said.

"I mean, it's not like I'm dating anyone right now."

"I know."

"Then why you being so nice to me?"

He hesitated. "I don't know." After a minute he added, "I like you."

I did look at him then. He didn't know me and I'd been mean as a snake for the last day. No one sane would like me now. "Why?"

"I don't know." He glanced at me. "Don't look at me like that. I don't. You just seem, I don't know. Nice. Well, usually. You read a lot. Good stuff too." He blushed faintly. "And you're pretty. I mean, I'm not saying that I wouldn't like you if you weren't pretty, just, well, you are."

Oh Ty, you're pretty. Oh, Ty, you're so nice. Oh, Ty, you're special. I like you, Ty.

"Well, you can stop liking me. You got a case of jungle fever, you better find yourself a cure."

"I know." He hesitated again. "But look, we're partners this week, ok? And — ok, this is going to sound really stupid — I don't want a girlfriend right now."

How could he not already have one? "Why not?"

"Just because."

"Because why?"

"Because I had a really bad break up and I don't want to see anybody, ok?"

Oh, he's good. "Yeah. So what's that got to do with me?"

"If people thought we were going out, I could, you know, have an excuse. Not to go out with anybody."

"So why you need me? Tell 'em you got a girlfriend."

"I, uh, kinda did." I glanced at me. "I didn't think you'd mind too much. Well, really, yours was the first name I thought of." He glanced again. "Sorry." We were pulling up to the student parking lot. The school had a student parking lot. My old school didn't have a student with a car, this one needed a separate lot. "Look," he said turning off the car, "it's only for a couple days and you don't have to do anything any way. I'm not trying to date anyone not even you I just really needed to say something to get Alyssa to back off."

"Alyssa?" I knew her; she was one of those girls who made you wonder why you got out of bed in the morning. Together, they'd be the best-looking couple in the school. "Why you turn her down?"

"Because she's a bitch."

There wasn't much to say to that. He walked me around to the west entrance where the Program lockers were waiting outside. Apparently, we were the first to arrive; only a few perverts were hanging around. "Ms. Chapel said you use your date of birth as the combination." Each locker was labeled with a set of initials. I found mine and put in my date of birth. Nothing happened. I tried again. Nothing. Brian, meanwhile, opened his locker and found his clothes from yesterday. "I guess yours are in there too." He watched for a minute while I tried again. And again. "Are you sure you have the right date?"

I almost smacked him. "I know my birthday."

"Well, yeah. But I mean, do you — I mean — do they know your right date? Could the school records be wrong?"

"How could the school records be wrong? The got the date from..." I stopped. They got it from the Redmonds, who got it from DC Social Services who probably have their own personal records messed up. "Fuck!"

"Here. You can put your stuff in my locker for now and then we can go find Nurse Chapel and see what date she put in."

It wasn't like I had much choice. And as an added bonus, the time it took to fight with my locker, allowed some of the other Program kids to arrive. The stuck up blonde had the locker next to mine. She muttered something of a greeting and popped her locker right open.

There was some cheering and cat calling for her — Brittney — and when she started undressing, the crowd started 'singing' that old stripper song: wah-wah-wah, ba-dum, wah-wah-wah-wah, ba-dum, wah-wah-wah, wah-wah-wah-wah-wah, wah-boom-wah-boom-wah-boom-wah-boom. She was a great success. She was slim, with tiny pert tits and a flat butt and the boys cheered wildly when threw her panties in the air. She gave me a smug look, grabbed her books and scooted into the arms of a waiting Reasonable Request.

One of the guys went next — Rod, I think. He was a senior and played on the basketball team. I love basketball. I love watching the guys who play basketball too. His face was, well, not my taste. But his body — wow. The little bastard began twisting. I rubbed my stomach to settle it down, wishing I could rub something a little lower. Then I felt myself blush. I know the program was supposed to help us get comfortable with thoughts like that but nobody wants to see a fat girl all hot and bothered. Certainly not now.

I watched the juniors undress next. They did it at the same time. They didn't do any thing fancy, just took off their clothes and stuffed them in their lockers.

Brian pulled my arm. "Our turn."

"Oh. I wanted to wait til everybody left."

"But we're kind of next. Seniors, juniors, sophomores."

Tsk! I rolled my eyes and moved to the spot were everybody was stripping. There were some cat calls like "hey momma!" and someone tried to start a chant of "Slut! Slut! Slut!" but it didn't catch. Brian stopped my hand before I could pull off my shirt. "Hey, how about I do you, you do me?"

I sneered. "You not my boyfriend."

"I know. Reasonable Request."

"Whatever." I let him undress me. I let him slowly lift up my shirt and caress my sides and stomach then gently tug it over my arms and head. He hung it in his locker before coming back to step behind me and unhook my bra. Than he moved around front to slid the straps down my shoulders and pull the oversized cups off my bloated, tender breasts. He hung that too. It was the cold morning air that had my nipples harder than bullets. It must have been the cold air that was making me shiver like that too. And made my heart pound like it was going to jump out of my chest. It couldn't be that Brian was stripping me. His hair brushed my nipple and stomach gently as he bent to find the hook on my skirt and I gasped involuntarily. I'm sure that would have happened with anybody. It wasn't Brian's soft hair like silk thread running across me that was making it hard to breathe. He stood behind me again and pulled the zipper of my skirt down slowly. It must have been an accident that made his hand stroke over my butt and all the way down my leg. He hung my skirt and I stood in just my panties wishing like all hell none of it was happening.

He came back and stood in front of me. He looked almost as unnerved as I felt. "I, uh..." He blushed, deeply this time and moved behind me again.

Right. The little bastard. He probably can't even find my panties from the front. That didn't stop him from reaching around and pulling the waist band down from there. Could he tell they were wet? Maybe not. Maybe I can claim my water's leaking or something. He hung the panties and stood in front of me again.

I now have to peel the clothing off Mr. Loving. I couldn't keep my hands from shaking as I unbuttoned his shirt. Why did he wear a button down shirt anyway? He watched my hands as they moved down. Everyone watched me. If anyone was saying anything, I couldn't hear them over my own heartbeat. I was really careful not to touch him. Until I had to stretch over the little bastard to pull the shirt off his shoulders. Then my chest touched his and we both reacted. His nipples were hard too. Two brown points on a smooth coco butter field, soft but firm, smelling faintly of ... something ... I stepped back when I realized he was wearing cologne. He planned this. Damn cracker! Knowing that made it easier to take his shirt the rest of the way off. I hung it in his locker the way he hung my stuff. I could hear the crowd around us then; there were more people than I would have thought yelling out things like 'take it off, baby' and 'shake it, daddy' but I tried to ignore them.

It must have been funny in a sick, perverted way, to watch me have to get down on my knees to take off his pants. I simply couldn't bend over like that. There were a few calls for me to suck it when I did finally pull down his shorts but I closed my eyes as I pulled them down just so I wasn't even tempted to do that. I wished I could close my nose too. He wasn't wearing cologne down there but he didn't need it. I got a lump in my throat from the weird, musky manly scent. I tried not to touch his skin at all, although I could feel his warmth no matter what. His scent lingered in his shorts as I put them in his locker. I silently cursed the cold air that was still making me shiver. It had to be the cold air. Damn little bastard. All this is its fault.

"You ready?" Brian was behind me, close. Why won't these damn White boys leave me alone? "I, uh, I gotta get my books."

And I was blocking his locker. I stepped aside and grabbed my own book bag. "I'm going to go get that nurse to fix my locker." I said just to get away from him.

"Ok." He closed his locker and went with me. We only got to the front door before someone asked him for a Reasonable Request. "Oh, uh, I, uh..."

"Damn!" I snapped. "You don't have to be my babysitter!" I stalked off happy to be able to get away from him. The nurse wasn't in her office but the counselor was. "Ms. Scott, can I have a new partner?" I asked without preamble.

"Tyshala! Are things not working out with you and Brian?"

I shrugged. "I just don't want to be his partner. Can't I just not have a partner?"

She looked thoughtful. "Close the door. Sit a minute. Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing. I just don't like being his partner."

"Did he do or say something wrong?"

Not technically. Actually, so far he was doing everything right, damn him. "Does it matter? Can't I just not have a partner?"

"Well, I suppose. We've found that people go through the Program more successfully with a partner — even if the partners don't get along. Evidence shows that even if the partners are downright hostile to each other, they are more likely to discuss issues that come up with peers than with teachers. There are a great number of case files. I could let you read a few if you'd like."

Tsk! "I don't need all that. Never mind." I started to get up.

"No, now wait. I still want to know why you've asked for a new partner. Is it a diversity issue?"

It sounded like a good excuse. "Yeah."

"So Brian's being insensitive? He's making offensive remarks?"

"Well, no."

"Then are you the one being insensitive?"

"What?" To a White boy? Can you be insensitive to a White boy? "No!"

"You're sure? You don't have any issues with him being Hispanic?"

"Hispanic? He's Latin?"

She looked as smug as a teacher can look. "Why Ms. Brown, I thought you were fully versed in all diversity issues. Perhaps today's group meeting won't waste your time after all." The bell rang. "You'd better get a move on to class. I'm sure your partner is waiting."

I paused at the door. "Oh, yeah. Can I have that note for Ms. Shadowgard?"

"I've spoken to Brooke. She'll wait until tomorrow to mark your attendance for yesterday."

Great. I opened the door and sure enough, there was Brian. A couple freshmen girls were taking a close look at his nuts and taking notes. When the door opened, he jumped and startled the girl holding him.

"Ouch!" He cried out and they giggled and apologized. Again, his cream-colored skin was tinted pink with embarrassment. "Sorry. They have a class assignment. Is Ms. Scott going to fix your locker?"

"No." Ms Scott said over my shoulder. "What's wrong with your locker?"

I opened my mouth but he answered for me. "The combination's wrong. It's not her birthday."

"Oh. Well, I'll look into that. Come by at lunch time and we'll see what's wrong."

"OK." He took my book bag again. "You ready?"

Why won't he go away?

I stalked off down the hall to homeroom. It was really just to take attendance anyway. No one disturbed me while I read another fifteen pages about someone who's life actually mattered. Then, I trudged to first period. Mr. McKenna asked about relief then directed us to sit in front of the class again.

"Ok, people! Let's get started. Chapter 6: Miscegenation and Multiraciality in the World. First impressions. Anyone? First, who did the reading?" He counted hands and then selected someone.

There were a lot of technical terms about biology and statistics about how some people who pass as White are really 'legally' Black — like Carol Channing — and who some people who look Black are 'legally' White because of how the laws were written. And there was a lot of stuff about DNA. Still, as messed up as the US system was, some other countries had it way worse.

Mr. McKenna asked Brian a question and he jumped next to me. "Huh? Uh, I, er ... sorry. What?"

"Are we keeping you awake, Mr. Loving?" Brian blushed. The boy blushed a lot. "You raised your hand yesterday when I asked about interracial relations. What was your experience?"

"Oh." He glanced at me then back at Mr. McKenna. "I used to go out with a Moorish girl, when I lived in Spain. But my Dad's White and my Mom's Spanish. She's from Ceuta originally."

"Ah so you are the very product we've been discussing! How's that been for you?"

He shrugged and looked thoughtful, like no one had ever asked that. "I don't know. I mean, I'm not really Spanish. Half, I guess. I mean, I don't ever think about it that way. I'm just, you know, white."

"Pale white." Someone remarked in the back row. It got a laugh.

Brian laughed too. "Yeah. I spent a year in Ceuta with my Grandmother and I was the only white guy on the island practically!"

"What was that like?"

"Well, people did treat me kind of differently. It was mostly 'cause I was American, though. I mean, they had to show me stuff everyone else already knew and stuff like that but, I don't know. I guess I never thought about it."

"OK. Someone else. Haddin — you are Jewish as I recall, yes? Is that race, culture or religion for you?" We discussed how your mom has to be Jewish for you to be Jewish and they used the little bastard as an example and figured out on the black board what race or religion or caste it would be if I had had it with the various boys in class. But at least the little bastard stayed still the whole time.

It didn't get active until I was in the hallway on my way to Trig. I was waiting for yet another Brian Reasonable Request and wondering if I'd get any at all when the little bastard started turning and kicking. The foot was fully outlined on my stomach and people actually stopped watching Brian getting felt up to watch the movement in my belly. Someone did ask if they could feel it. He put his hand on me for only a few seconds then pulled it away. "Dude, that is creepy!" The second bell rang before anyone else got up the nerve to try it.

Hurrah. My first Reasonable Request.

We got to math class and both skipped Relief again. I looked at Brian as we sat down. The last girl in the hallway didn't finish him off leaving him really stiff and if the color of his johnson was anything to go by, he was suffering pretty bad. He hadn't taken Relief in any of the classes we had together except once. It was odd. Weird White boy. Latin boy. Weird Latin boy.

For once, class was just class. I wasn't in the front of the room, I wasn't the example of anything, nobody talked about the little bastard. Just math which was ok. I don't like for people to know it but I'm actually pretty good at math. But it doesn't pay for people to know you're smart. It's sad; math was created on the African continent — well that's what I heard, anyway — but the number of Black people that can't add two and two is scary. Back at my old school, you'd rather be anything other that smart. Smart kids get beat up at best. That's what you get for thinkin' you White. I always tried to stay away from the top of the class. Here, I had to struggle just to stay at the bottom. Sometimes I wondered if it was worth it. Even without the little bastard, it wasn't like I was going to college or something.

Third period — the one I missed having a mental break down yesterday — was Ms. Shadowgard's Music Appreciation class. It was almost the only class I had without Brian. The first month was all vocabulary and terms and crap no one cares about except maybe music teachers. After that, we listen to stuff in class, take notes and then write a paper about what kind of music it was and whatever. Ms. Shadowgard was pretty cool over all and she brought in a lot of different music. We'd already done some classical, some rock, some country and some Motown. She had promised that we'd do something for everybody. I doubted very seriously we'd hear any Roberta Flack or Angela Bofill but I'd suggested them when she asked anyway.

"There you are!" Ms. Shadowgard actually hugged me. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Did you want Relief today?"

"Uh, no. That hasn't really been an issue."

"Oh well, don't worry about it. Things will return to normal when you pop that little one out. Is it a boy or a girl, do you know?" she laughed to herself. "Do we ever know?"

"I haven't checked."

"You'll have to bring me the pictures as soon as you find out." She started class. Brahms. "Classical is especially good for prenatal mommies, you know. You all who plan to one day be parents should develop an appreciation for the music we cover for the next few weeks. Oh, and TyShala, I am reserving the last five minutes of class for you from now on. I'd like you to give a verbal presentation on how the baby responds to the music. If our little one's going to attend class," she gave the little bastard a gentle pat, "then he or she should participate too."

For the record, the little bastard seems to like Brahms.

The closer I got to Biology, the less comfortable I got. Ms. Wagner was already planning to use me again which I wasn't looking forward to. I got to the classroom and she sprinted to the door.

"Hello, Tishshilla! Hello, precious!" She gave my belly a stroke and a quick peck. "Oh, I just love babies! How are you today? Feeling better?" She walked me over to a table in the front of the room. It was elevated just a bit — no doubt to give my class mates a better view.

Brian arrived in time to help me get settled on the table — not that I needed help, mind you. I think he did it as part of his plan to get me.

"Ok. Let's get started. First, do either of you need Relief?" I glared at Ms. Wagner. "No? Really? You know, I think you two are the only ones who turn down relief in my class. Biology seems to be one of those clichés, I suppose. Alright then. Let's start with questions about pregnancy and the birth process. Artie?"

There were a few questions, mostly about how babies grow and develop. Finally, she couldn't ignore the jocks snickering in the back row any longer. "Mr. Who, you have a question?"

"No." He snickered.

"Please! Out with it."

"OK." He looked directly at me. "How do you do it with a pregnant chick?"

There were a few giggles and a few groans and someone commented that you can't have sex while pregnant.

"Not so." Ms. Wagner replied quickly. "In fact, many women find that their hormones increase their libidos. Sex during pregnancy is very common."

"Yeah." Bill — 'Dr. Bill' they called him but I had no idea why — sat next to Who and had been snickering with him. "Common among freaks."

"Or," Artie was in the row in front of them, "among guys who love their wives." A few of the girls in class seemed pleased by that comment.

"But how?" Who went on being a complete irritant. "I mean, you'd have to be like two feet long to get around her now and she ain't even that big!"

"Ah! Positions, Mr. Who — Shouldn't that be Mr. Bill and Dr. Who? You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Must be showing my age again. Never mind. Yes it's true; you can no longer use the standard missionary position after the abdomen has distended. However, so long as both partners are comfortable, there are a great number of positions available. Let's see. Mr. Loving, if you would assist please?"

"Uh, ok." Not only was he blushing but Mr. Happy woke up in a hurry.

"Assist in what?" I asked.

"In demonstrating appropriate positions for the class."

"Oh hell no!" I hadn't meant to say that but it popped out.

"Not like she hasn't done it before!" a girl said — one of Claire McBride's friends.

"Ms. Brown," Ms. Wagner cut in before I could reply. "I'm afraid I'm not asking you. Brian, you will not insert anything into Ms. Brown. I do, however, need both of my Program participants to assist in this classroom exercise. Now Ms. Brown, please lay down lengthwise. Oh! I nearly forgot, I brought this for you —" she pulled a small pillow out from under her desk and put it under my back "-by my sixth month my back ached constantly. Now. Class, notice the overall outline of TyShala's body. Her breasts appear to be in a near constant state of arousal but for most women, they are very sensitive so you must be very careful about when and how you touch them. Ms. Brown, as we saw yesterday is lactating and many men find that a turn on. In fact, there is much pornography dedicated to pregnancy and lactation. Brian, how do you feel about the subject?"

He swallowed hard. "Uh — I — uh — good. It's ok. I mean, she's ok. I mean..."

"You mean, Ms. Brown's pregnancy has not made her any less attractive in your eyes." Ms. Wagner seemed to be enjoying this.

"Uh, yeah."

"Good. Tishshilla, would you like Brian to touch your breasts or are they too sensitive for that?"

The idea made my whole body quiver. It took me right back to this morning and the feeling of my nipples rubbing against his chest for that one brief moment. "Oh no." I could barely breathe the words.

"Ok. Brian, then let's start with the obvious. How close can you get to the missionary position?"

He looked at me, our eyes locking for an instant. I knew. I knew in my heart, I knew in every cell of my body. I wanted him. I wanted him more than I ever wanted Terrance. More than I'd ever wanted anything. I knew he would use me — play me and walk away just like Terrance had but I also knew that I didn't care. I was so desperate, so stupid that I was going to let this White boy do what he wanted to me. Just like the last one did.

Then he was over me. His legs were between mine, with his goods pressed against my cooch. Which nearly did it for me! Most of his weight he settled on his arms and hands as he placed them carefully by my sides.

"How's that?" Ms. Wagner asked. "Are you both comfortable?"

"Yes." I answered then looked away from the class.

"Oh, yeah." Brian practically sighed.

Ms. Wagner talked for a minute then had Brian change positions so that he was standing with my legs over the end of the table. To open my legs wide enough, he put one of them on his shoulder. His goods still rested against me and he could not have missed how wet I was. I wanted to cry again.

Then the little bastard decided to get into the act. Brian rubbed my stomach gently and it settled down again. I looked up to see Brian smiling. Smug SOB!

Ms. Wagner had me get on my knees for a couple positions. Then she had Brian lie down and we showed some positions where I was on top. Fat as I am, even without being prego, I'll never be on top! Every time the little bastard got active, Brian rubbed my stomach until it settled down. I've never been so mad and so turned on at the same time on my life! Having him rub against me like this was driving me crazy. And the whole time, he had this smug, know-it-all, expression like everything was falling into place for him.

Finally, class was nearly over and Ms. Wagner suggested one last position. "Of course, it should go without saying — spooning."

"What's that?" Bill asked.

"Just like it sounds. You both lie on your sides like spoons in a drawer. He lies behind her..." As she described it, Brian lay behind me and pulled close in. His whole body pressed around mine and his arm wrapped gently around my stomach. I'd never felt so warm — so loved — in my entire life. I know a few tears fell; I couldn't stop them. Why couldn't Terrance be the one doing this? If it has to be some White boy, why couldn't it be the right one? The one that did this to me?

"My aunt said that you shouldn't swallow if you're knocked up." A girl asked. It was the same one who sucked Brian yesterday.

"I don't see why not." Ms. Wagner replied. "Although, sometimes a woman's tastes can change during pregnancy so you may want to be careful if you find semen makes you unusually queasy."