Hyperventilating my *** off

My hands fall to my sides, and I feel my legs give out from below me. I don’t know how I’ve landed on the ground, until I look up at her; my fingers are shaking. Everything is blurry.

She looks at me with tears in her eyes. I open my arms, and she enters, choking on her own tears as she stumbles over her words. 

“I-I thought my period was just late... and I—

My shoulders go around her and rub her back, desperately trying to comfort her. 

My mouth struggles to make words, my mind imagining how different a child might make my life. Would I have to leave school? What the hell was I thinking? 

The future looks bleak all of a sudden.

“What do you want to do, Jazz?” I raise up a million silent prayers to God and any heavenly being above, years of going to church suddenly crashing down on me. 

“I’ll support you whatever you choose,” I say, but the words feel flat. Am I even able to support her? 

She sniffs, shaking her head frantically. Chokes out, “I don't know… I-I can't decide this, William.” 

And I think about how she only ever calls me William when she's sad. She shrugs from my grasp, taking my hand. My throat feels too tight, like a bone is stuck in it. 

“When did you find out?”

She gains her voice back with every word, “I took a pregnancy test last weekend.” 

I imagine her, alone in her bathroom after seeing the result, scared and devastated. Two pink lines glaring at her accusingly. 

I raise her chin until she looks into my eyes directly. “Darling,” I say, then I am unable, for a second, to speak. 

“What if I’m expelled?” 

I shake my head before answering, “No. They don't expel people for that anymore. Not since the 90s.” 

She looks sceptical for a second, breaking eye contact. 

I kiss her cheek and repeat myself, “I promise I will always be here for you, no matter what.” 

I mean every word I say, my chest twisting further at the thought that I need to let go of Timothy. 

The future I have been imagining with him where we could live together openly, drifts farther away as reality dawns on me. 

We could never have worked out. My fingers tighten around Jasmine for a second as I'm lost in thought. 

I don't think she even notices. I let go of her and her head falls deeper into my arms. 

I wait a beat before saying what's just occurred to me, scared how she'd react. “Should we meet with the school counsellor?” 

The next thing I hear is a shuffle outside and I freeze, the door swinging open suddenly. Year Nines start trickling in, looking at us with shock registering in their faces as they notice the two of us. 

It occurs to me how odd we must look, two seniors hugging on the floor, one of them crying no less. 

“That's the head boy, isn't it?” One of them whispers to another, her voice so high her whisper travels across the room to us, annoying and contemptuous. 

I stand quickly, shielding Jasmine as she can't stop crying. Somehow we make it through the door, shouldering our bags as they stare at us, most open-mouthed. 

“Wipe your tears,” I whisper to her as we enter the hallway, taking her bag and trying to move her along. 

I half-carry half-walk her to our Head Boy and Head Girl’s office at the far end of the corridor from the class we just left. 

I whisper, “Sorry, love,” and the words stick at the back of my throat. They feel insufficient. My brain is running through a million options. 

When we get to the office she collapses beside her desk, and I just sit at my table, lost for words. 

I want to hold her but I can't move; my heart starts beating so loud I can hear it in my ears.

My chest tightens so much that air can barely pass through. I feel lightheaded, and the next thing I see is black. 

~ 

I wake up to light so bright I shut my eyes again. Slip back into the darkness. 

The smell of antibiotics and disinfectant wakes me up the second time, and I rouse so suddenly my eyelids roll back, Jasmine's name on my mind. I am about to call out her name when I see her. Shes standing at the window, looking out of the room. 

She turns as I rise, and the door opens at the same instant. Miss Ann, Aton College’s resident nurse, walks in. Timothy trails in behind her, hands twisting in front of him. I've never seen him look so anxious. 

He breaks into a hesitant smile when he sees me, hugging the door for a second before coming in. 

He doesn't notice Jasmine standing by the window, and that must be it. That must be why. 

“My love,”he says, and I freeze, my eyes widening as he comes closer. 

Does he really love me? We can't be together. 

He starts as Jasmine speaks, a laugh in her voice, “That sounded proper gay, boo.”