Shauna's Great Expectations Read online

  There’s a loud knock at the door.

  ‘Piss off!’ snaps Lou-Anne.

  ‘There’s absolutely no call to use language like that,’ comes Miss Maroney’s voice. ‘This door should never be locked. Now, is everything all right in there?’

  ‘Fine,’ says Lou-Anne tetchily. ‘We’ll be out in a minute.’

  ‘You’re getting two Red Marks, Lou-Anne, which makes three for you altogether,’ says Miss Maroney. ‘You’ll be on Wednesday afternoon detention.’

  Lou-Anne opens the door slightly

  ‘Bloody cow!’ she whispers. ‘I should tell Mrs Green about her little pool parties.’

  I walk to the sink, with Lou-Anne still clamped to my back, and look in the mirror at my puffy, tear-streaked face. I start to shake my head.

  ‘I have no choice,’ I say. ‘No choice. I have to leave the school. Or have an abortion.’

  ‘No, you don’t, Shauna.’ Lou-Anne lets go of me and turns to stand beside me, so that I can see her in profile in the mirror. ‘What goes on under your uniform is no one’s business but yours. No one will even know you’re pregnant for a few more months.’

  ‘And when they do?’

  ‘Still none of their business.’

  ‘But everyone will talk. I’ll lose the scholarship. I’ll probably get expelled. And my parents . . .’

  ‘Let’s just keep it quiet for now. Take it one step at a time.’

  Lou-Anne takes my hand. I can’t believe how level-headed she’s being, but I sure do appreciate it. It makes me feel calmer.

  ‘I’ll get a test and make sure I’m really pregnant. I mean, maybe I’m not. Maybe I am just having an allergic reaction to Olivia Pike.’

  We meet each other’s eyes in the mirror and smile sadly. Lou-Anne really is the best of best friends. I know I don’t have to tell her to keep the secret. She would never betray me, not in a million years. Not even to Bindi or Indu.

  There is no easy way of going out and buying a pregnancy test during the week. No easy way of paying for one either, not unless I can bum ten bucks off someone under false pretences. I won’t steal, though, and I won’t let Lou-Anne steal for me, though she does offer. I know what stealing does to you.

  By Saturday afternoon we’ve managed to scrape together a few bucks by emptying our backpacks of coins and selling Lou-Anne’s amethyst pendant for a steal at Cash Converters in Bondi.

  ‘But Isaac gave that to you, Lou-Anne!’ I plead miserably as she lays it on the counter.

  ‘I don’t care about Isaac.’

  ‘But I’ve heard you tell him you love him on the phone.’

  She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. ‘That’s just to keep him sweet.’

  We go to a nearby chemist, blush ferociously when we make the humiliating transaction, and then rush to the nearest McDonald’s toilet. Lou-Anne stands just outside the stall door with the instructions.

  ‘Do you need a cup of water?’

  ‘No, it’s . . . I’m fine . . .’

  In spite of my best efforts, I soak the whole testing stick in wee.

  ‘Now, it could take a few minutes,’ says Lou-Anne, ‘but are there two bars or just one in the plastic window?’

  The two bars light up at the same time.

  ‘There are two, Lou-Anne.’

  ‘That means you’re pregnant.’

  The bottom falls out of my stomach. I feel black. Quivering and immobile at the same time. Shit.

  ‘Shauna?’

  I flush the toilet and come out of the stall. Lou-Anne follows me to the sinks and watches me silently as I wash my hands.

  ‘Well, congratulations,’ she says eventually. I meet her eyes in the mirror and raise my eyebrows.

  ‘Over-the-counter tests can be wrong,’ I say shakily. ‘I should really have a blood test. That’s what Dr Google said.’

  Lou-Anne and I have already done some frantic googling on the prep. hall computers. I’ve got all the information. I just want someone to tell me that I’m not pregnant. Pregnancy, however, is a fact that’s difficult to rebut.

  Getting to see the doctor as an Oakholme girl with an embarrassing little condition can be a tricky business. The school’s obliged to tell the student’s parents when she’s seeing the doctor. We are allowed off school grounds in the afternoons to go to appointments with parental permission, as long as we’re back by a given time. I have to make up a story about ‘girly problems’, which covers a lot of territory but kind of sounds like thrush. I get Miss Maroney to make an appointment for me at Dr Baker’s surgery in Double Bay the next week.

  Miss Maroney hands me my Medicare card and on Wednesday after school I walk to Dr Baker’s surgery on my own (Lou-Anne being on detention).

  Dr Baker’s a lady doctor who treats most of the boarders at Oakholme College. Being an old hippy, she’s very kind and approachable and I’ve never felt particularly awkward telling her about my medical problems. I feel nervous now, though.

  ‘What can I do for you today, Shauna?’

  ‘I think I’m pregnant.’

  Dr Baker’s face doesn’t even change. She must have had this conversation a hundred times before.

  ‘When did your last period start?’

  ‘The day before Christmas.’

  ‘That’s over three months ago. Did you have sex?’

  I nod. ‘The condom broke. I took the morning-after pill, but I don’t think it worked.’

  ‘Have you done a urine test?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Dr Baker waits a few beats. ‘And?’

  ‘Well, it seemed to be positive.’

  ‘False positives are possible, but very rare.’

  ‘I think I need a blood test.’

  ‘If you’re still in doubt, let’s do another urine test.’

  She rummages through one of the drawers in her desk and pulls out a plastic jar.

  ‘Go to the bathroom and get me a wee sample. That’ll give us a result in a few minutes.’

  I go to the bathroom and pee into the jar, clutching it to my chest as I walk back through the waiting room to Dr Baker’s office.

  She unscrews the lid from the jar like it’s nothing more disgusting than a cup of coffee and dips a plastic stick into it. She leaves the stick on her desk and smiles at me.

  ‘If you’re sexually active, we should really talk about contraception.’

  ‘I’m not that active, you know. It was my first time.’

  ‘But your contraceptive method didn’t work. You might want to consider a hormonal method like an implant as well as using condoms. You need to keep using condoms because they’re still the best protection against sexually transmitted diseases.’

  ‘Is an implant expensive?’

  ‘No. It costs about thirty dollars.’

  And that’s not expensive . . .

  ‘I probably won’t have sex again for a while,’ I say lamely.

  In the time that it’s taken to have this short conversation, the pregnancy test has come up positive. Dr Baker picks up the stick and holds it across the table. There’s a big red plus sign in the little window.

  ‘It seems that you’re pregnant,’ she says. ‘What would you like to do?’

  I get that black, bottomless feeling again. My face heats up and I feel my eyes fill with tears.

  ‘I just wish I wasn’t pregnant. I mean . . . how unlucky can I be, getting pregnant the first time.’

  Dr Baker reaches for my hand. ‘You’ve got options. A pregnancy doesn’t mean the end of the world.’

  ‘I can’t have a baby. I just can’t.’

  ‘It’s not a big deal, Shauna,’ she says in a gentle, matter-of-fact way. ‘It’s probably too late to take the abortion pill, but you’re still well within the time for a surgical abortion. It’s a simple procedure and very safe. I can make an appointment for you at The Choice Foundation.’

  ‘The Choice Foundation? Is that an abortion clinic?’

  ‘It’s a women’s health clinic, yes
. It’s on Macquarie Street.’

  ‘You won’t tell the school about it, will you?’

  ‘Of course not. You’re almost eighteen years old. I have to respect patient-doctor confidentiality. You’re old enough to have sexual privacy.’

  This comes as a huge relief. I know if I want to, I can make this all go away and the only person who’d ever know is Lou-Anne. Even she wouldn’t have to know if I didn’t want her to. I could tell her that I wasn’t pregnant after all and then quietly have the abortion.

  ‘How much does it cost?’ I ask, my heart full of shame.

  ‘It costs about five hundred dollars.’

  I start to cry. ‘I don’t have five hundred dollars.’

  ‘I think it would be better if you talked to your parents about this, Shauna.’

  I just shake my head, keep shaking it. I don’t want to tell them. I don’t want to admit to them that I’ve failed like this. But where to get the five hundred dollars? The only person who has it and will give it to me with a minimum number of questions is my cousin, Andrew. I’ll tell him it’s a loan for the ticket to Paris.

  ‘Do you want me to give you the clinic’s details?’ Dr Baker asks kindly.

  I nod, desolate.

  12

  I’M IN THE withdrawing room with Olivia Pike. Reverend Ferguson had to deliver her here personally again. She’s putting a fierce effort into staring me down, but I only glance up at her intermittently. I haven’t said a single word to her since Self-Raising Flour left the room.

  Let’s face it, I’ve got problems bigger than Olivia.

  For one thing, I’m lying to my best friend. When I got back from my appointment with Dr Baker yesterday, I told Lou-Anne that my pregnancy test results were ‘inconclusive’, and that I have to go back for a blood test in a few days. In fact my appointment at The Choice Foundation is in a few days. After that, I’m planning to tell her that I’m not pregnant, which by then will probably be the truth.

  I didn’t make a clear-cut decision to lie to Lou-Anne. It just happened. She confronted me as soon as I walked into the dorm.

  ‘So?’

  Her dark eyes were on me, burning with compassion. I couldn’t tell her that I was booked in for an abortion. I just couldn’t, not when her own sister delivered twins at fifteen. So I lied my arse off. I didn’t feel very good about it and I still don’t.

  Now I’m opposite Olivia, not really caring about what happened in her past or whether she says anything. I examine my fingernails, and then the knots in the smooth surface of the mahogany boardroom table. We’ve been here for about ten minutes.

  At the other end of the table, Olivia has begun to fidget. Her legs are swinging under the table. She’s tapping her fingernails, one hand after another, like she’s playing a scale on a piano. Eventually, her mouth opens.

  ‘Is this some kind of reverse psychology?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This silence. Are you trying to trick me into talking?’

  ‘No,’ I say simply. ‘I don’t care whether you talk or not. Actually, I don’t care what you do.’

  ‘I know it’s a trick.’

  ‘It’s not a trick.’

  ‘It’s a trick.’

  ‘Okay, it’s a trick. How’s your ponytail? Has it lost weight? It seems thinner than the last time I saw it.’

  Olivia looks bowled over. The sneer leaves her face for a good two seconds while she considers her next move.

  ‘You’re supposed to be my mentor,’ she observes. ‘You’re not doing a very good job. You’re a bully.’

  ‘You’re the bully and you got what you deserved.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll tell Self-Raising Flour that you’re not doing a good job. Maybe I’ll tell her a few other things, too.’

  I don’t respond and it drives Olivia crazy.

  I shrug. I look at my watch. There’s another long pause.

  ‘How’s your boyfriend?’ she asks.

  The question makes me physically lurch. I’ve hardly thought about Nathan since I found out I was pregnant. Now I don’t know how to think about him. I’m not even sure I want to see him again.

  For Olivia’s benefit, I sit up straight and fix my face.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘When’s your next date?’

  I lurch again. I straighten up again.

  ‘Um . . . Easter show.’

  ‘Which day?’

  ‘That’s really none of your business.’

  I look at my watch. Only twelve minutes to go. Another minute or so passes in silence.

  ‘Are you going home for Easter?’ she asks me.

  I nod. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m going to a Sport & Rec. camp and the rest of the time I’ll stay at school.’ Olivia looks vulnerable for a moment before asking, ‘Do you live with your parents or foster parents?’

  ‘My parents.’

  ‘Both of them?’

  ‘Yeah. You?’ This is the most pleasant she’s ever been towards me, and even though I don’t feel like talking to her, I should take advantage.

  ‘I’ve been in foster care my whole life,’ she says in a quavering voice.

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘Depends on who your parents are, I suppose.’

  I press her. ‘What happened to your parents?’

  Her eyes glisten with tears. I can see them watering from the other end of the table. Her face twists suddenly and savagely.

  ‘I knew this was a trick.’

  ‘Fine. Have it your way. I don’t want to talk to you, either. You’re a poisonous little serpent.’

  We both cross our arms and turn side-on.

  When the thirty minutes is up, I let her leave first and wait a few minutes before walking out.

  Reverend Ferguson intercepts me in the hallway.

  ‘Shauna! Can I keep you for a moment?’

  ‘Look, I’m trying, Reverend Ferguson, but she’s craz—’

  ‘She’s making progress,’ Reverend Ferguson says firmly. ‘She’s teamed up with Keli Street-Hughes and some of the other girls in that room to raise money for charity during the holidays. You’ve heard of Wish Upon A Star? It’s a foundation that grants the wishes of kids with cancer.’

  ‘Okay. Good.’

  ‘Did she tell you about it?’

  ‘She mentioned she was hanging around over Easter.’

  ‘I think it’s so wonderful that she’s participating in the community life of the school. Don’t you?’

  ‘It’s great.’

  Reverend Ferguson grabs my upper arm enthusiastically.

  ‘You’re doing fantastic work with this young lady, Shauna.’

  I have to force my face into a serious expression.

  ‘Well, thanks, Reverend Ferguson.’

  Somehow I know that Olivia’s fundraising efforts will be doomed to failure, but I keep my thoughts to myself. I’m supposed to be her mentor after all, albeit not a very good one.

  It’s lunchtime and I’ve promised to meet Jenny in the common room. She’s already sitting at a table looking at her laptop when I arrive, deeply absorbed by whatever she’s reading. I sit next to her. There are flight details on the screen.

  ‘We’ve got to move quickly on these plane tickets to Paris,’ she says in panicky excitement. ‘If we leave it much longer it might cost a thousand more per ticket return.’

  ‘Can we wait for a few more weeks?’ I ask, wondering how I’m going to ask my cousin for even more dough. He’s already sent me five crisp hundred dollars. He was more than happy to front it, but how can I ask for more money for the same thing?

  Jenny figures out that the root of all evil is on my mind.

  ‘If you haven’t got the cash, I can buy your ticket now and you can pay me back later.’

  In my woozy, lethargic, guilt-ridden state, I find it hard to summon any eagerness, even in support of Jenny’s.

  ‘Just give me a few more weeks’ is all I can think to say.

  ‘I’m going
to buy my tickets tomorrow night, after we get back from the revision course at St Augustine’s.’ She turns to me and grins, so single-minded that my lack of enthusiasm doesn’t seem to make an impact on her. ‘Let’s hope Stephen hasn’t got rowing practice tomorrow!’

  The HSC University Pathways and St Augustine’s and Stephen Agliozzo’s back muscles seem a million miles away now. I realise that I can’t even go to the course tomorrow afternoon because I have an abortion to attend. I hadn’t even thought about the extra schoolwork when Dr Baker and I were organising the appointment.

  ‘I won’t be there tomorrow,’ I tell Jenny. ‘I’ve got a doctor’s appointment.’

  ‘What for?’

  The lie should come out easily. It came out easily enough with Lou-Anne. But there is something in the frankness and intelligence of Jenny’s eyes that makes my lying tongue seize up. I start stammering.

  ‘Well . . . I’ve been sick lately and . . .’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And I think . . . I’m pretty sure . . . it’s morning sickness.’

  ‘You’re pregnant?’ whispers Jenny, her eyes calculating but never leaving mine.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That night with Nathan O’Brien?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Oh, Shauna.’ She sounds so disappointed for me. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Where do you think I’m going tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘I’ll go with you.’

  ‘No, you should go to the class at St Augustine’s. Take notes for me.’

  ‘You’re not planning to go by yourself, are you?’

  I nod.

  ‘I think I should come with you. How can you afford an abortion anyway? Don’t they cost a bomb?’

  ‘I’ve borrowed some money from my cousin.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask me?’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to tell you. I just wanted to get it over and done with without anyone knowing.’

  Jenny looks cheated, almost outraged, that I’ve kept this from her.

  ‘You have to let me come with you, Shauna.’

  ‘I’d rather just do it on my own. Please don’t tell anyone.’

  Jenny sighs deeply. ‘I wouldn’t do that.’ She turns back to the computer. ‘Should we check out accommodation?’

  ‘Accommodation?’

  ‘In Paris, Shauna.’