Archive of Our Own

There it was, again, in its pink fury. The dye spread like ink spilled on paper. It faded and then presented itself as bright and vibrant. Slowly, its' presence flared. and stood strong—like it wasn't going anywhere.

Tracy knew it wasn't going anywhere. Nothing like this can disappear just as it appeared. She swiped her roots back and away from her face as she sat looking down at it. 
 
Two lines and a plastic stick; who knew this would predict a life changer? 

She sat the stick on top of the toilet and slide it next to the first three. She exhaled through her nose and lifted her head. Her boyfriend, Si Martin, was balancing himself on the bathtub's rim. His head was buried in his knees, scared to know what this one said. They both stood in silence once the test clicked the toilet top.

Tracy wrapped her hands around her arms and stroked them. "It's positive." 

Si blew through the small entry of his mouth. "I thought you were on the pill."

"I am! I don't know what happened." 

Si reached past Tracy to pick up the last used test. He stared at it and back at the instructions on the box sitting near the sink. He viciously shook it and without re-looking, he threw it at the door. "Fuck!"

Tracy jumped. She glanced at him with a pout. Getting off the toilet, she went next to him and put her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. We can fig—"

Si got up, making Tracy nearly lose her balance, and walked out of the bathroom. She followed him as he picked up his leather jacket and took his keys. "Where are you going?" she asks.

*Slam* The door went and blew a heavy breeze on her face. She pinched the back of her hand and stared at the door. From the breeze, she felt the emptiness of the apartment. When Tracy and Si bought it together, to them, it was an accomplishment—one step closer to a loving future. It was small, and cramped with little collectibles (mainly set by Tracy). These same collectibles was what brought the color into the bland living area. The telly, standing on a tall speaker, looked about the size of a jukebox, and the busted couch that was found at a garage sale complimented it too. But it was where the two watched performances and music videos on MTV; cuddling up with each other's warmth. The kitchen was no better. They were short on a few plates and spoons and couldn't store enough groceries with the mini fridge they had. Si promised to get a 'real one' after the first broke. You'd wished to see the expression that Tracy had when he walked in the door with that "microwave" (as she calls it). But even with the memories of what the apartment held, Tracy was surrounded by cold sorrows. 

Suddenly her phone had rung from the coffee table by the couch. It took her a minute before she picked it up to see the caller id. "Mike," she said to herself. It wasn't the perfect time for him to be calling because she needed him right now for another disappointing reason. She imagined him being here as he was there in the Dumping Ground—the care home she grew up in. She answered and held it to her ear.

"Tracy? Tracy?"

"Hey Mike," she says with enthusiasm. She bite her lip, holding in the vent she'd give to him at this moment.

"Hey! I was calling to see if you're still working on the reservations for me and my lady at the bar?"

"Uh, yeah. I got it. I should have you in the system already for..."

"The twelfth! Thank you so much, Tracy. You know how I am about traveling from Ireland to there and wanting everything to be perfect. It is a good thing that you are an ow-"

"Wait, the bar?" She looks at the time on her phone. "The bar!" she cries. Furthermore, Tracy chases down the short hallway and charges into her room.

"He-Hello?" Mike said from the other side.

 "I'll call you back, Mike!" she said while barely holding her face to phone screen, hanging up, and throwing the phone onto her unmade bed. 

She put on whatever was suitable for the eye and headed out the door. Without a beat, she jolts back inside to get the muffins that Cam wanted her to sell for the morning. Making it an hour and forty-five minutes late, she was greeted by the unpleasant faces of her employees. "Sorry, sorry!" She slide the key into the door and pushed it open. With the flick of the light, the bar—"Tracy's" as they call it—was discernible. The chairs were stacked upside down on the tables and two employees began to take them down. Tracy laid the tray of muffins on the counter and tilted it a bit to face the door. She takes the plastic wrap off, picks up one with googly eyes, and gets a munch.

 Four regulars walked in and sat to get their usual. She'd have conversations with them and laugh over sport game details that she knew absolutely nothing about. They mentioned football legends like Henry Rowe, Sean Godfrey, and Matthew Glover but none of them rang a bell. She'd guess she spent too much time watching rock stars jam with her boyfriend to be interested in sports like she once did. Twenty minutes into the conversation and Tracy started to feel faint and weary.

 "Woah there, Tracy, you look a little hot, are you okay?" said one of the male customers.

"Yeah, I'm good. I think I just need to sit down. Thank you for coming again today." she tipped her hands off to them in appreciation and slowly walked into her office. She barely glanced at the papers, that were scrambled around her desk, to avoid the strong headache that was edging in. 

It didn't cause her to continue the shift easier than how she normally conducted. She took orders, chatted with customers, checked any faulty leaks, and had a few breaks in her office off her feet, then at 2 pm she was off to her second job—A front desk representative for a 56-year-old establishment. The building's age clearly showed but somehow it attracted many folks looking for a room. The guests mostly consumed of foreign travelers seeking a cheap place to stay to save a few bucks anyway. The boss was a high-egotist son of a bitch that was all about consumer profit than quality. The place was passed down to him by his grandfather since his father was "such a failure". He spent most of his shifts not even in his office, but flirting with young American women near the back entrance of the hotel. 

Tracy handed a guest their sixth room key after they locked themselves out again. After they left, she took the chair she got from the break room and sat down.

"Yo-hoo!" The boss whistled, "you know I don't like seeing the front desk sitting down."

"Sorry, Mr. Rojas" Tracy slide the chair back as she stood up straight. 

"It makes my place look unprofessional." He says before pulling out his phone.

Tracy unwrinkled her shirt and looked around in boredom. She did a little sigh and blinked a couple of times after thinking about what happened earlier in the day.

"Since you have nothing to do, why don't you stock up on the food area before the check-ins come?" Mr. Rojas remarked.

Tracy rolled her eyes. "It pays the bills," she thought, and proceeded to take boxes of chips and sodas, put them on a luggage cart, and stock up the sections and the refrigerator. She heard the sound of suitcases rolling across the floor, then the bell rang. She lifted herself and went to the desk, "checking in?" she asked. 

When she got home, her feet were madly sore. She dropped her bag beside her and fell onto the bed. She then got up, took off her heels, and unpacked her backpack. She set the dirty clothes in a nearly filled basket to take to the laundromat on the weekend and her non-slip shoes under the bed. After getting out of the shower, she brushes her teeth. While doing so, she looked at the pregnancy tests still lingering in the bath space for an unresisting amount of time. She collected them all, threw them in a drawer, and closed it like she was closing in a piece of her puzzled life. Before she went to bed, she turned off the tv left on by Si who was dozing on the couch and kissed his forehead. 

The night was windy and shallow. On the street, small groups of people walked around with cups, phones, or bags. Heels clacked on the pavement and the voices of drunk somber accompanied the atmosphere. It was the beginning of the weekend, a break for many. Tracy chunked the black trash bag into the garbage bin and flicked her hands together. When she turned around, a woman and man, arm in arm, were walking past her having a lovely conversation that made each other grin. The sight caused her to pause and think about her and Si first times together. Then, she rubbed her lips and sunk to the present.

Tracy entered the bar; her ears instantly filled with laughter, short babbles, and aggressive tones. She went to the bathroom and washed her hands. She looked in the mirror and noticed how dull she looked; the cramps she had in her lower abdomen weren't helping. She tweaked her mascara and pinched her cheeks to bring back their natural pink highlight. The door cracked open, and she was back on the scene. She cleaned up straw paper off the table to her right and threw it in the bin behind the counter.

"Hey, Tracy! You remember me?" said a man sitting at the bar with his beer. Patrick was his name. He had started visiting the bar two weeks ago. From what Patrick has spoken (without anyone asking as most the people do when they come to the bar), he's in his late 50s and is only visiting London for a week or more.

Tracy sat her back up straight and leaned against the bar to him, "Yeah! How you've been?"

"Okay. Kinda lonely. But I know you'll keep me some company."

She laughed, "Maybe. I'll be here and there."

"Yeah, Tracy is just doing her job." said the man sitting beside Patrick.

"You look very pretty, as always. Probably the most stunning bar owner in the world," Patrick says.

Tracy gave him a side eye as she pulled back the handle to the beer tap. "How's your wife?" she asked.

He giggled in embarrassment, "she's, well, she still has a little grudge."

The guy beside him turns his chair and puts his fist under his chin, "I wonder what you did to make her so angry?"

She picks up the hot, steaming chips lying in a plastic oval bowl, "It's probably because he flirts with girls at the pub." Tracy left from behind the bar, leaving the stranger laughing while Patrick jugged on his glass. She carried a tray to a table and felt her stomach growl at the sight of the meal. She glared at the clock; it was three more hours until closing. She blew out of her mouth, making her lips flap against each other. "I should've made two sandwiches," she thought.

The following day carried the effects of yesterday. Tracy felt she'd pass out if her body were straightened while standing. She held onto the bed like a sloth on a tree and let her feet hang off. Not what was expected for her day off, but needed.

*knock* *knock* 

Tracy groaned and hesitated to see who was there. The knocks continued and she kept imagining herself opening the door, yet, she hadn't moved an inch from the bed. The door opens itself, and the voice Cam echoes into the apartment, "Tracy! I came by to drop these off." Tracy's head felt like weights were being lifted off of her comforter. She rubbed her face and tilted back onto her feet. Her body moved in a slow circular motion as she tried to gain balance. She ventured past the shoes and clothes on the floor and headed to the kitchen. "Ah! Good morning, darling." Cam held Tracy's head and kissed her on the forehead. She pushed her curly hair away from her face and looked upon her figure, "well, looks like you didn't get a good nights rest." 

She yawned, "I worked till 12 am."

"I told you that's what you'll get owning a bar." Tracy aggressively grinned at Cam's statement. "It's still an attractive investment!" Cam pointed at the cupcakes, neatly placed in a container, "you wanted them; I made them! I got red velvet, lemon, and vanilla." 

"Thanks, Cam." 

"Of course." she playfully squeezed her cheeks. "Oh my goodness, you might need to slow down," she laughed and then slapped her hands over her mouth, "I hope that didn't come off rude." She walked over to Tracy with a playful smile "Look how cute and chubby you are!" She pried Tracy's belly, slightly poking out of her t-shirt. 

Tracy slapped her hand off, remembering the reason of her recent stomach growth. "I'll be heading to the gym soon."

"Don't! It's cute on you."

Tracy turned her head to the window and thought, "it won't be cute after a couple more months."

Cam's phone vibrated. She took it out of her pocket and sucked her teeth, "oh no."

"What's wrong?" Tracy asked and stretching her neck to look at the notifications.

"One of the girls was involved in a fight. I got to head to the school." She paced to the door and loudly said, "If you have any more cravings, call or text me!"

"Uh huh," Tracy said back. She zoned out while staring at the container. "Could just be having menstrual cravings, and it's not because of a pregnancy," she nodded at herself, approving her own theory. The theory didn't stick for long after recalling she was past her cycle's intended date. Cam would probably be disappointed about the news. She was living in a shitty apartment with the boyfriend her mum always questioned, not stable in a career even though she had many opportunities that she let down, wasn't married, and now, knocked up.

She looked at the cupcakes that were calling her name. While grubbing on them, in her focus, was one of Si's jackets lying on the corner of the couch. She reflected on the cold winters when he'd placed it on her shoulder while she watched his band practice tunes in a rented garage. It'd go on for hours, but in between breaks Si'd hand her some hot chocolate or kiss her around her face. They weren't married, but undoubtedly they were merry. At least, that was before the biggest problem. Sure, they had a couple of fights but this could set their flame to distinguish under pressure. She looked up the chance of a false positive and hoped she was a part of the 'less than 1%'. It won't be long before her and Si discover themselves but suspense kills Tracy. She could pay a visit to the doctor to simply squash the time limit, but the idea of knowing also felt suicidal.  

Tracy bites her lip, thinking about what she had to say to Si. She hadn't talked to him mutually since that day in the bathroom. It's always a "hi," "good morning," "goodbye," and "goodnight." On the nights that Si wasn't sleeping on the couch, Tracy would catch him sitting on the edge of the bed stressing. She felt bad—really bad. Like it was her fault. Yet, she knew they both were guilty.

 Tracy was giving herself a pep talk in the mirror, "It's okay for him to be upset," she looked to the side and stuttered, "...or mad. But what about how I'm feeling." She lightly banged her fist on the counter, "I'm the one who's carrying the problem every day while he gets to go out and play with his silly band!" The last statement made her ponder; ponder enough for her to grab her things and head out of the apartment complex. She paced on the pavement with her backpack jumping up and down her back. "I'm going to tell him how I feel and he better..." she continued marching trying to think of the right words, "he better hold me and says everything will be okay. He should be here for the both of us." She shook her head so the yelling she was going to give to Si wouldn't turn into somber cries.

 She kept straight towards his friend's house, knowing he was there on most afternoons. Until she made a right, went through the park, went straight, did a left turn onto a street, and was right at Cam's door.

Looking like a lost dog, Tracy rang the doorbell. This baby has had a toll on her. Where did her anger go? Tracy without an angry tantrum is like a house with no windows. Windows don't make a house but you're very familiar with houses coming with them. Cam opens the door and gasps. "Oh my god, Tracy what happened?"

 Between her heavy breaths, Tracy replied: "I need help."

Cam gladly brought her inside, arms wrapped around Tracy's limped shoulders, and sat her on the couch. "What's the matter, Tracy?"

After more than twelve years of knowing Cam, a little less than half living with her, and in the middle of those years keeping a dark secret from her, Tracy had no mental space to keep this away from Cam. She learned it's best to say it right then and there. She rubbed her eyelids and said in between her palms "Cam, I think I'm pregnant

Cam's eyes went big. "you...do? You took a test?"

 "Yes, about five in total and they were all positive—well one was half positive," Tracy said hurriedly leaving no room for Cam to speak inbetween. 

"Is it Si's?"

Tracy stared at her Cam with a mean glare. "I'm just asking!" Cam said with a guileless voice.

"Yes! It's Si's," Tracy replied. She let her lungs fill up and drop with a huff through her nose. Cam begins to laugh. "What-what's so funny about this, Cam?"

Cam laughed and shoo-fully slapped her hands in the air, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know. It's just, you haven't changed."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't mean to be that type of parent but I tell you time and time again about every precautions and you just run with it until you hit a bump." She busted out a harder laugh, "no pun intended."

"Cam! You should be upset with me! I'm still young, unmarried—well let me not give you reasons to be mad but this is not the time to laugh. I'm...I'm actually scared," Tracy said the last bit lowly with her eyes down and dim.

Cam wiped a tear and released the last chuckle, " I love you and know how hard your life has been. I don't need to be getting upset at you Tracy. I am shocked, but there's no purpose in getting red and yelling like a maniac. You're an adult, I don't want to trail behind you." Tracy tapped her shoes on the floor a little and held her hands together. "Have you been to the doctor yet, hun?"

"No..." she looked at Cam hopelessly "I'm too scared." 

"Just because you're scared doesn't mean it won't stop it from happening. You have to face it—head-on. Have you and Si call in for an appointment; I'll pay for the bus fee if I have to." She took her wallet out from her purse and began flipping through the notes.

"That's the thing. Si won't talk to me."

"What!" Cam jumped up. "That bastard!" She wasn't a fan of the 'boy' from the beginning as one can tell. "You and Si are going to the doctor to figure this out. If he doesn't want to talk to you, fine, but that baby will talk to him eventually." She grabbed Tracy's hand, releasing them from tight grip Tracy held them in, and looked at her in the eyes. "As the father, he has a part in this too. Don't do this alone. If he doesn't want to comply, give me a call. I'll get him straight." Tracy nodded her head and regained the energy she held in her apartment. This needed to be handled before it gets out of their control. 

Tracy held a heavy bag as she sprinted to the bus stop. It wasn't as heavy as the intense, anxious feeling for the day's plans. She was already going to be late if she didn't make it in time to the bus. Just as the bus driver was about to close his doors, Tracy stuck her foot in between; "ouch!" she exclaimed as it squished her toes in her shoes. "You could've just yelled or something," the bus driver said and slowly hit the door button. Tracy giggled in embarrassment, dropped in her money, and trailed past the few angry seaters waiting for the bus to go. She sloppily gripped the pole above her and was slightly pushed by the vehicle's sudden acceleration. She looked around to the windows left of her and then down to the ground. There was a dent on her converse from the door closing in on them. These shoes were three years old and a birthday gift from Cam; Tracy hasn't grown in shoe sizes for that long. Cam and Mike sometimes call her tiny toes, which pisses her off, but it's all fun and games. She then thought about the conversation she had had with Si this morning. She told him where she was going but didn't pressure him to come. When he heard of the appointment, he seemed out of focus. Tracy felt that maybe he wasn't upset with her, just avoiding it as he does with more straightforward problems.

The bus stopped with a harrowing screech, and the doors slowly opened. Tracy held onto her chest as she went down the small steps; her chest had been sore for the whole week. She walked in front of the glass windows that framed the clinic and looked at her phone. The last two text notifications were from Cam, wishing her luck, and a spam message from Facebook about a girl in a well. She clicked the power button and stuck her phone into her back pocket.
When she entered, the room had four other patients sitting in the seats. Tracy stood behind a woman signing the sign-in board—the room smelt like alcohol and cheery flavored medicine. She signed her name, Tracy Beaker, next to the "testing box' once the woman had left. "You are here for a pregnancy test?" said the front receptionist.

Tracy hesitatingly said "yesss" and quenched her lips.

"Okay, please take a seat in the area to the right, and a nurse will call your name when they are ready for you to go back "

Tracy nodded and softly mouthed, "thank you." She turned to find the right area and sat down. She looked at her phone again before deciding to study the room. There was a young girl, probably fifteen, reading a magazine from the rack, a couple who were already many months expecting looking at their phones, and a woman scratching the dry skin on her arm. She realized there wasn't a need to be embarrassed, but the anxiety still felt lie a great pull on her. After sitting for half an hour, her name was called, and she tucked her bag into her arm. It wasn't very formal; the nurse just gave her a plastic cup and told her to pee. Tracy jagged to herself, "I literally did this at home..." She sat patiently on the edge of the bed, her feet hitting the ground by an inch. She childishly kicked her feet and swung her legs as if she was on a swing. The paper lying on the bed crumbled as she moved. Soon the door opened, and it was none other than Si.

"Si? what are you doing here? How did you get here? The bus for the stop had already arrived.

"I took a ride. They told me which room you'll be in. It was a bit of a hassle because of the whole health policy stuff or whatever it's called."

She is about to tell him something, but the door opens, and the doctor walks in. "Tracy! oh! and who are you? Husband?"

"Boyfriend," said Si.

"Okay. How are you doing, Miss. Beaker?" he said so excitingly.

"Well," she replied. Even though she felt awful, she was so used to replying that way.

"Great!" he glanced at the clipboard in his hand and then smacked his mouth, "well, Miss. Beaker, looks like your suspicious is right, you are pregnant."
Her heart dropped as it did the day she predicted and then tested it on her own, and she nearly cussed under her breath.
"And if it is okay with you, we'd like to do some blood work. You didn't mark 'yes' or 'no' and I need consent first before drawing blood. We are just checking if your levels are good and if you aren't low on iron or anything of the sort."

"That's fine."

"Okay, Carole, one of our nurses, will come in and get your blood, and we can then start running those tests. Do you have a good guess on how many weeks you are?'

Tracy and Si looked at each other, then back at the doctor with a shake of their heads. Obviously, no. After passing fifth base, they were a very loving couple. So loving that they would go without protection for the moments' sake.

"Alright," the doctor wrote into the chart with his face basically calling them "dumb kids."  "I'll make sure to get you that information too." The doctor strolled out to the next room and left the two puzzled.

"You already told him...about what we were going to do with it?"

"I-" The nurse barges in with a tray. Tracy stared at the needle as the nurse was setting everything up. Tracy reached for Si's hand but pulled back as she felt it was too soon. She squeezed the bed instead when it came time to draw her blood. As soon as the nurse finished wrapping her arm that the needle was stuck in, Tracy said, "I have to go to the restroom," to Si. She left the room with haste and traveled to the woman's room. She stood in the stall and tried to stop herself from breaking down, heavily breathing as she scrambled to look for her phone in her bag. She slowed down a bit to recognize it was in her back pocket. A few weeks ago, she downloaded an app, with Cam insistance, that helps with attacks to avoid her tantrums. She opened it and followed the breathing pattern. When she calmed down, she slouched her shoulders and washed her hands in the sink with lukewarm water. She wiped the mascara spikes from under her eye with the tip of her fingers and left the restroom. She returned to her room, 103, just as the doctor entered.

"Miss. Beaker, your vitals, and blood seem to be good. You are missing out on a little vitamin B12; I can also tell from the cracking of your lips." Tracy touched her lips, kind of offended from his comment. "and you seem to be six and a half weeks pregnant--a little over a month. I can schedule an ultrasound for you with my great friend Dr. Hodgson."

"Actually, we'll be doing an abortion," Si inserted.

"It's still good to have an ultrasound before you make a decision. But..." the doctor turned around and grabbed something from a shelf, "here's our pamphlet that goes over the 'termination process'," he said, handing it to Tracy.

She looked at it, and her eyelids lowered into a grim look. "Thank you, and I'd still like to have that appointment schedule." Si's neck could've been nearly sprained by the way it turned.

"Okay, Nurse Carole will be discussing with you for scheduling. If you need anything else, try to go to him first before me again."

"Could you give me your availability?" the nurse said.

Tracy provided, "Any morning except Friday, Saturday, and Sunday this week."
"They won't have any openings this week, is next week okay?"

"Yes."

The walk to the bus stop, the bus ride, and the home were quiet for the two. Tracy felt the anger flowing around Si. It wasn't until thye got into their apartment Tracy placed her hands on his back and said softly, "Si, I'm not saying I want to keep it. I just want everything to work out and go through every step." He took a breath and released it. He turned to her, kissed her head, and then landed one on her lips.

He laughed, "that doctor was right. Your lips are dry."

"Stop!" Tracy pushed him back and walked into their bathroom. After a nice shower, she drifted to sleep with Si beside her for the first time in a week in half.
However, her dream wasn't as pleasant as her night. She was back at the flat she lived in when she was fifteen. She wore her school uniform, a red shirt, blue skirt, long white socks, and black buckled shoes. She was watching tv, an old cartoon. Then, she felt a tingly feeling forming on her stockings. She looked down to see a snake crawling menacingly up her leg. It was tan with black eyes. She couldn't do anything but stare as it kept going up and up. She felt air being blown onto her neck and a whisper began to form. "We can be friends, Tracy."

Instantly, she woke up and patted her sheets. Her panic lowered when she saw Si was sound asleep. She figured the stress of the day was getting to her and glanced over at the pamphlet on the side table. She rested her head on her pillow and decided to scroll through Facebook until she fell asleep again.

Day of the ultrasound and Si seemed more prepared than Tracy. He claims that it doesn't change things and hopes they are still going for the abortion. Tracy thinks his curiosity is getting to him. The bottle of lubricate was nearly empty as the technician squeezed the life out of it. The gel layering made Tracy tense up, and her hair stood. The technician began to rub it in with the stick used for the scan. "Alright, they might not be pretty right now, but I promise they will over time,' the woman said, then she gently moved the screen to face Si and Tracy. "Here's your little munchkin in their very early embryo stage." Tracy's eyes went big, and Si's head returned in weirdness. That is ugly as shit, they both thought. Tracy looked down at her stomach, remembering it was growing inside her. "Oop! Do you hear that? Sounds like a steady heartbeat." Tracy stopped breathing to hear the fading sounds of tiny trumpets waving from the machine. The technician hit a button on the keyboard, and it froze the screen. "I'll leave you to look while I make sure this prints. Congratulations." 

Si stared in silence, too, with his eyebrows frowned. He scratched the scuffled hair on his chin and said, "I'll be in the lobby once you're down getting that stuff off you." He walks out and closes the door behind him. Tracy completely dismisses him and keeps staring. She always wanted to know what every mother of a dumped child felt when they discovered their existence. This is the closest she'll ever get to the answer. She wondered what Carly, her real mum, felt. It made her remark that she could end up like her if this child somehow managed to be born. 

The technician comes in hurriedly, "I apologize; I relooked over your statements and saw you were planning to terminate the pregnancy. I can dispose of the scanning. Again, I'm so sorry if anything I said seemed like I was forcing you into any decision."

"Actually, may I have that picture?"

"Oh...Yes, I'll get it." the technician replied.

Tracy hid the picture in a slit in her purse and didn't plan to look back at it until she returned home. While on the bus, it felt like the air was thick. Suddenly, Si placed his hand on Tracy's and squeezed it. He gave a soft sigh and stared at the front of the bus. She looked at him with stars in her eyes. Finally, there was Si again. The way he was when she first met him and the remaining couple of years later before this all started.

When they got to the apartment, she went to the bathroom and locked the door before she reached her bag and rubbed her hands against the silky, plastic material. It wasn't the right time to look at it, so she got in the shower first. With her face and hair still wet, she glanced at her stomach. The thought that it could bloom into a baby and then be born as an offspring of Tracy felt so surreal. The costs for that offspring would be like an arm and a leg, plus the toddler stage isn't the best. She wouldn't be a great mum, as she believed. She has all the traits her mother had when she was born. Without noticing, she had exited the shower and instead of grabbing a towel, she had grabbed the scan. She glared it as if it was going to to start moving in real-time again.

*Knock* Tracy quickly dropped the picture.  "Tracy? I really have to take a crap."

"Uh, ok." She flagged her arms around trying to remember where she was. She grabbed a towel, picked the scan back up, and wrapped it around the towel with her. She unlocked the door, "come in." She held her hands in front of her.

"You trying to do something tonight? If so, I'm down." He said, coming in and then getting on the stool.

"Um, no. Was just-" She looked around, focused on the drawer, and opened it, "throwing away these." She pulled out the used pregnancy tests.

"Ah, that just got me out of the mood. Hopefully, we don't have to use those again." He said in a sort-of disappointing tone. Tracy nervously giggled before launching them in the trash.

When she retreated to the bedroom, she pulled the scan out and hastily tucked it under the bed frame—a known care kid hiding spot. She was getting ready for bed when something on the floor from the corner of her eye struck her. It was a picture of her and Cam on her wedding day. Guh, I must've had that in between the bed frame too. The left side was ripped to remove a certain person from the photo. It brought back such bad memories, but she couldn't get rid of it. It was probably one of the best pictures of her and Cam, but she hid it so it wouldn't be laying out to construct her mood. In the picture, they were squished together; Tracy was meant to be in the middle of the whole frame, with big smiles, and her and Cam holding arms around each other. She placed it back and put her hair in a bun. Si comes behind her, fresh out of the shower, and claws her like a toy in those machines. She pushes him off with the picture still in mind. 

"That thing has you so moody." He says and then crawls into bed. Tracy rolls her eyes and then settles in bed as well.

"You're actually pregnant," Cam said with her bottom lip nearly hanging. Tracy pointed at the clinic's paper to the word "Pregnant" checked off and slapped the ultrasound down. "Tracy...do you know how much a baby cost? Have you figured out a plan?"

"I know it's going to be a lot."

"What about that bum place you have right now? How will you rise a child in there?"

"You said it was nice when we first got it! I thought you wouldn't be mad."

"I thought it was just an silly assumption then. I've had heard enough false positives recently." "There was no way you'd get pregnant after all of the talks we had about protective sex! I know you as the type to hardly listen but this is your life on the line."

"Cam, I know! Okay! That's why we are getting an abortion."

"You are?"

"Yes." Tracy's cheeks went red, and her eyelids lowered slowly.

Cam tilted her head and looked her dead in the face, "You don't want to do it?"

She couldn't answer. Tracy didn't want to come to terms with the fact she wanted to ruin her life. She clawed her nails onto her lips and stared back at Cam, letting her scrunched eyebrows talk for her. Cam sighed and rubbed her forehead. "If you don't want to do it, then you don't have to. But you have to know how to take care of this child. You're still like a child yourself." Cam held her tongue as if the sentence she was about to speak led to the death penalty. "Otherwise, it might get put into adoption."

"No, that's not going to happen. If worse case scenario, they can stay with you for awhile."

"Who says that?"

There was a shock flashed over Tracy's face.

"I'm a foster parent, yes, but only for teen girls. I choose my path already because I put the other stuff to rest. A child, let alone your offspring, is very high maintenance. But you expect for me to take in a baby that requires special feeding, nursing, care, 24/7 watch, and more time consumption?" There was a slight pause to Cam's scolding. She caressed Tracy's shoulder, knowing she was taking the hope out of her. She didn't want to hurt her little girl, but there was only one way for her to learn, and that was on her own. Tracy had to understand, considering her own learning from the Dumping Ground. "With of all my heart, I want the best and beyond for you. The day I met you with your big smile and puffy hair (and horrible makeup), I wanted you to have the world. But I could only give you mine. Now that I've raised you to adulthood, I can't clean up after your messes. That wouldn't make me a good mum, to refuse your natural growth."

Quiet, Tracy was. There was no outburst or pull from what she heard. It made Cam anxious. Tracy nodded softly. "What should I do? I don't want this child to be alone, abandoned, and dumped. How can I avoid that? Do you think I should proceed with aborting?"

"It is up to you, your choice. But if you decide to keep it," she made sure Tracy was focused on her, "do what you can. Your desires can be strong, but real motivation is a must." Tracy embraced Cam. She realizes she has another chance, which is to be a mother like Cam.

Tracy had difficulty hearing on this specific day. At the bar, she walked passed a few customers calling her name. They considered her a rude waitress, but when they asked for the manager and got her, they just left. Not, of course, without threatening to leave a bad review. Her boss at the inn kept snapping at her to "do this and do that." Even with his bickering, he wasn't annoying her. All she could think about was the picture in her purse. She had to stop herself eight times to not look at it. She wondered why she had brought it along with her in the first place. It was a lot more on her mind, tracing all at once. But what Cam said struck her for the first few times in her life Cam or anyone has given her a talk-down. 

The room felt hot, and her face beamed like a rose. She held her heart as she felt a firm pull. When the pain slowly defused, she sat up, went to the back, and dug in her purse. She pulled out the picture and started bawling. She stopped it and wiggled her fingers, hearing it was the best way to stop breakdowns from forming. She smelt a familiar cologne when she passed her boss on the way out. Familiar to the one once owned by her ex adopted-stepdad. Her mind returned to the vision of the flat she once lived in. 37,  Gloucester ST. How old was I? Fifteen? Going on sixteen, I think, when we moved. Cam always had her leave her shoes at the door because the shoes she wore for school always clacked on the wood flooring. "You're messing up the writer's mind with those things," Cam would say while trying to finish a draft. Tracy would be tired of having to take them off everyday after school, so she decided to only wear them when Cam was out. That was how he, her adopted stepdad at the time, knew Tracy was home when Cam wasn't. She couldn't shake the memory off this time because she was already too deep. On the bus ride home, she jumped when a passenger's hand swiped against her leg. She glanced slightly at him, a man who probably was going back home to his wife and kids and had no intention of harming Tracy. Still, she felt endangered. As if everyone was out to get her.  She got off the bus two stops ahead and decided to walk. An even worse environment as it was getting dark. She cautiously walked the street and checked every ally for anyone to jump out at her. When she got home, she locked the door and sighed in relief before hanging her coat and bag. 

"Back so soon?" Si said from the room. Tracy realized that she had left without even consulting Rojas. She already had her purse in hand and jolted out the door. She cringed at the fact he probably was calling her every name out of the book once he fount out she was gone. She took off her shoes and pranced into the bathroom to shower. Si laid on the bed, reading something on his phone. Tracy wanted to get whatever she was revisiting out of her head so what better way to do that other than looking at the abortion pamphlet she got from the doctor's office? She took it out of the bedside drawer and began unfolding it. As she read about it, it was helping her get rid of the past but stressing her out of the present. Suddenly, Si spooned her and kissed her neck. She brushed him away and moved her head to give the sign to leave her alone. He smashed her with side smooches and reached for her chest. 

"Not tonight, Si." 

"Just for a few minutes; I promise we won't do it for the whole month after this." He said in between, smacking his lips against her.

"Another time, okay?" She smacked him back with her hand. He reached back in. "I said stop!"

Si was pushed back and leered at her. "your reading that but haven't even doing anything yet."

"I did. I made an appointment on the 16th."

"Good." He turned to his side, away from her. Under his breath, he says, "Because it's me or the baby."  It hit her in the heart as the pain from earlier in the day did. She sat the pamphlet down on the bedside, underneath the lamp. Biting the skin on her fingernails, she whimpered. She felt so low from his own words. The shadow of Carly, her real mum, combining with hers, having to choose between a baby or her boyfriend.

"Okay, now I'm confused." the woman said over the phone with her thick accent.

"What is there to be confused about? All I need you to do is tell the boss over the other boss how great I am at multitasking or completing deadlines or whatever sounds good, and I could get the job." Tracy said. She was picking up clothes as she held her phone on her shoulder. 

"You? multitasker and doing things before a deadline?" 

"I was a great co-worker, especially good with the kids." Tracy heard the suck of teeth over the phone. "Gina! Please, I want to leave this inn job."

"I don't know, Tracy; maybe you should call a professionally trained liar 'cause I'm not one of them." While Gina continued, Tracy sorted the colors away from the white and dark tones, something she's only done twice in her life (this is the second time). "Why not go to Mike? He is a more suitable recommendation." 

"He didn't answer his phone." 

"Maybe that's a sign."

"Oop!"

"I gotta go; Good luck on the new job."

"Wait-Hello? Hello?" Tracy threw her phone in the clothes bin but picked it up when she heard a ding. 

Tracy sighed. She wasn't sure what she was worried about. They paid the bill for the month and had a little to spare, but it felt wrong to be spending anything right now. After replying, the attention was back on doing laundry. The urge to come to terms with what she wanted was repulsive, but the image of Si yelling or turning his back on her made it faint. 

Tracy and Si said good morning to each other, shared a peck, and then went. It has been 28 hours since their recent alternation. Tracy got a missed call and several text messages from Rojas earlier, which she still needs to answer. However, she decided to go in early into the bar. To her surprise, the actual owner was in. 

"Hey! So glad you're here. He's been throwing complaints, especially about the plumbing situation." said Tracy's go-to teammate

"What plumbing situation?" She replied while setting her bag to the side.

"The drain is getting clogged again and causing leaks on the floor."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

She, teammate, squinted and then softly said, "maybe we have, and you forgot or wasn't listening at the time." 

"Guh!" Tracy screeched and adjusted her shirt and hair. The owner was a tall, pale man that operated the establishment for over 20+ years. Tracy understood why he would be upset that it wasn't in the best state. He and his wife had hired her after sensing a great spirit coming for her person. He entrusted her to watch over and maintain their bar so they could travel. Last she heard of him, they were in Dubai, drinking and smoking their cigars on a boat. He was sweet but could stand his ground. In contempt of the man's role, he became a shallow person in Tracy's story as the pen kept writing, adding page after page. For him to suddenly pop up again, especially at this time, seemed ill-fated. An adjective that would be best to describe Tracy's lifespan.

"Tracy!" he waved at her like a long-lost friend. She trailed over to him and prayed for the best. "Long time no see. How've you been?" 

"Kinda okay, sir. I'm really sorry about how it looks right now. It has been a rough month."

He puffed out his nose and held a disappointed father pose. "Yeah, Tracy, you got me. I never knew you'd get it this bad." Tracy shrunk from his level and nodded her head. "I'm happy you came in, though. If it's alright, I've called a plumber, which will come off your check, as it would with any manager." He looked around at the desperate employees trying to look proper and wanting a raise. "Would you like to talk in the office with me? I have so much to catch you up on. I would love to hear what you and Simon have been up to." He gestured for her to lead the way. She unlocked the door to the small room with her key. He set a chair for her to sit on and sat behind the office table. 

"Am I in trouble?" Tracy asked. 

"No, no, dear. I really would like to catch up with you. How's your mother doing?"

"Good, just wring and stuff." 

"My wife read her second to the latest book when we were in Ankara, Turkey. Perfect scenery for that one." 

She grinned, unsure what to get from that information. 

"Simon?"

"Good." Tracy instantly answered.

"Good, good... listen I'll say what I also came here for. Me and Yiven plans to close the bar." 

Her heart began to pound, and her eyes went big. This and the inn job was the only sort of income she had.

"We found something exciting for the both of us: Investing. It's best to restart this old thing and use the money towards that. However, the memories will be missed." 

"Mr. Davies, thank you for telling me. I am happy you found another fine hobby," she said plainly. His words began to turn into a mumble and fade. 

She thought to herself that this was all a test. To see how hard she could break. The ultrasound scan photo in hand, she whispered: "this is my opportunity, to make up for what my mum did to me. You may not have a dad, or we may not have the money for what we want, but I won't leave you." She wiped a tear, "even if you make an emotional rack." she giggled. "I won't send you to some dump and make you wish you weren't born. I won't even hint that you were unplanned. You'll be your own person, but for now, you're in my care." 

*ring* Tracy, alert and ready, stands up to see the customer. 

"Hi, I'm here for Ro- Tracy?"

"Justine?" Tracy hasn't seen Justine Littlewood in the flesh for a few years. Only a couple of MySpace and Facebook updates. She wore a black dress with circle sunglasses and red heels. Her lips were glossed, and her hooped earrings shined under the inn's light.  

"You work here?"

"Obviously," Tracy giggled. "How are things going for you? I heard you got a house for your dad."

"Yeah, the snagger loves it. I've been doing quite well." Justine looks at Tracy and slightly shows her teeth with her smirk. "How you've been?" 

"uh- good," she shook her head, thinking of the correct word, "great, actually." They both paused, pondering what to talk about next. 

"I'm here to see the owner, not to get a room.." She took her sunglasses off and slid them on the top of her head, "Trying to see for a partnership of some sort. Want a new estate to add to my list." 

"You're still in the real estate business; that makes sense."

"I graduated with a Business degree three years ago."

Mr. Rojas came from the back door with his arms held out, "Miss. Littlewood, it's great to see you."

"Rojas! You can call me Justine if it fits your tongue."

Mr. Rojas laughed, "I'm sure you'd fit right in."

Justine laughed and slapped her hand, "We have no time for dirty jokes. I want to make sure we get everything done today." They both walked into the back with their conversation.

Tracy sat down and slouched with her arm on the front desk. She got a glance at herself from the computer screen and began to gussy herself up. Moving strands of her hair and wiping her under-eye mascara with her finger. When Justine returned, she slid a card on the desk, making Tracy sit up.

"Call me if you need a new home or want to chat." She said and left out the glass doors. That night, Tracy checked her phone for any missed notifications. The phone was idle. Specifically, there was no sign that Si was even alive anymore—that is, if they weren't one room away from each other.

Tracy flicked her pen around as she stared at the paper on the table. She scratched her head before doting down her estimated income for JSA, JobSeeker Allowance. It was an early application knowing she would take off the last week in the bar and was tired of dealing with her annoying boos at the inn. The feeling of failure crossed her mind and followed her to her hands. The pen was placed on the paper and left as Tracy entered her room.

She let out a sigh, and her eyes swelled up—the sound of a phone bell ringing from the other room. Tracy wiped a tear with the back of her thumb knuckle. She turned the phone and read "Carly" as the caller ID. Carly, her real mum, left her in care years ago, but they somehow managed to form some acquaintance since Tracy's days as a care worker. Even though they have passed a few steps, Carly's presence is only sometimes welcome. After taking a breath in and out, Tracy answered.

"Hey my curly headed doll!"

"Please, don't call me that."

"Where are you?" Carly's heels could be heard clicking on the ground.

"Uh...home. why?"

Carly blew air into the phone, trying to catch her breath, "I'm on the way there."

"Uh, no-" Tracy started rushing to take the empty cups, bowl, and wrapper off the coffee table. The sound of clacking over the speaker increases in volume and pauses every few seconds: *click* *click* *click* pause *click* *click* *click* pause. Tracy told Carly that "you can't just show up! I'm busy." The noise settled with humbling steps.

"You aren't too busy to spend time with your mum," Carly said. *Knock* *knock* the door went. Tracy glances at the door slowly, wishing she had just pretended to be out.
"Hold on!" Tracy squeezed a glob of dish soap in the sink and turned it on. She whisked it around to make it look like she's been washing the dishes but was interrupted.

*Knock* *knock* "Trac, come on my ankle hurts."

Tracy glanced at the mirror and tweaked her hair a bit. "Hey!" She greeted Carly with a smile.

"Hello!" Carly wrapped her arms around her. "My, your waist isn't as thin as it used to be."

"Carly!"

"Nothing to be ashamed of." Tracy closed the door as Carly trailed to the couch. "Sooner or later, you'll be going through menopause," she sat, "and trust me, it shows how old you are." Tracy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "It leaves you with barely any curves, heat rash, and aroused but you can never get arousal with the body it leaves y-"

"Okay, stop. I'm passed the age for the talk."

"I can't believe I missed that. I remember Elaine telling me about you being an early bloomer like I was." She sighed, "I always wanted to do the daughter and mummy bra shopping."

Tracy wiped her eyelids, "What are you here for?" she tried masking her frustration.

"Here to see you." She signaled her hands at Tracy. "Wanted to know what you've been doing." Her eyes adventure around the little apartment, "I see you're still with...Simon."She smirked and lifted her arms to avoid touching the ripped leather couch cushions.

"Yes, and...we are doing well."

"Okay." Carly burst with energy, "Oh! I met this really handsome young man named Anthony. He's tall and always opens to door for me at this restaurant I like."

"Can you stop trying to set me up with someone?" Tracy walked into the kitchen and placed the kettle on the burner. "I already have Simon. That is well enough." Her back faced Carly as she glared through the small window

Carly followed. "Nothing wrong with keeping your options open." She relaxed on the bar stool, "boil some water for me, darling; those stairs have me quite thirsted." she said, feeling her throat. "You might not spend your life with him."

Out of instinct, Tracy touched her stomach and clinched her shirt, "....He will...he loves me."

"Love changes and goes from one guy to another. I should know with all the guys I 'loved.' They always ended up being huge jerks."

Tracy turned and looked at Carly. She squinched her lips and looked down a little. "I'm not like you. We may share blood, but I didn't grow up to inherit your habits."

Carly scuffed, "Don't keep reminding me. I made some horrible decisions, but that one was for the best. At least until you started living with Cam and her husband G-"

"I had enough of this topic. It's over now." They both looked away from each other.

The kettle began to squeak, and Tracy poured a cup for her and Carly. She softly placed a mug on the counter. Carly began to dip her bag around the mug, letting the water turn into a cool brown color. Carly cleared her throat, "I apologize for bringing that up," she said before taking a sip.

"It's okay." Tracy replied. She couldn't believe that many years later, she'd be talking to her real mum like she was a distant friend. They didn't share fair memories, so what was there to bond over? Something seemingly brought the two close to closure on their past. It made them think that the more time they spend together, the quicker they can release their issues.

It was Cam that set the beginning of a reunion. Tracy remembers when she was eighteen and discovered that Cam was talking to Carly behind her back.

"Did you tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

Tracy's eyebrows flexed downward, and she tensed up with a jerk.

"oh, I had to; she's your mum too!"

"My birth mum, the one that left me too many times."

"She has to know about something that serious in life."

"She never wanted to catch up on most of my life that she choose to miss, why would she be interested now?" She stamps on the couch.

"I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to keep this between us but I'm only doing what's best for you—for your recovery."

"I wish you lot would stop talking about "recovery; it is so infuriating."

"You need to be able to cope. You deserve to cope." She cuddled her and brushed her hair with her hands. Her hand would get stuck with a few tangles now and then.

"Please don't tell anyone else." Tracy slowly said.

"I won't." She planted a kiss on her forehead to reassure her.

Tracy wasn't prepared to see her real mum again at the time. After everything had happened, Cam walked on eggshells to avoid triggering Tracy. Tracy's decision to keep it a secret seemed bearable, so Cam stuck with it. But she could tell Tracy missed Mike in her life. It was the reason she couldn't face him for some years; she didn't have the strength to share her weakest moments. Later, she began working for him at Elmtree House, a care home for various age groups. The one that Tracy was formally glued to. Cam thought she'd let her guard down while working closely with him. But the girl wouldn't budge. She never about spoke it, even if Cam tried. As if it never happened. It didn't count. 37 Gloucester Street never existed, nor did the life between becoming Cam's official daughter.

"You're supposed to be a dad to him."

"Well, I don't even know him!"
"Yeah, well, what's your exc'use with me?!"

"You know what?! He's better off NOT knowing you, i WISH-I WISH I was him!"

Tracy picked up a handful of crisps and dropped a few while delivering them to her mouth. "Ay! Stop getting crumbs on my face!" Si said on Tracy's lap and wiped his salty face. Commercials began to roll as the show was getting good. She grabbed the two glasses on the coffee table and hurried Si off, "I'm going to go get some more pop; tell me what happens next!" She said and gave him an eerily look. She went into the fridge and poured the purple drink, almost letting the bubbles foam over. 

"Don't do any funny business with my drink!" He yelled from the other room. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the glasses. But before she could enter the room, her phone vibrated from her back pocket. She placed them back down and scrolled through her notifications. A reminder sent to her email for the next clinic check-up still stood from 32 hours, and her hopefully future employer just texted her to come in for another interview on Tuesday. She rubbed her hair back from her face and felt a sense of depression. "Tracy, come back. I think he's going to pull out his cock—again!"

She quickly slapped the phone on the counter and settled on the couch with the drinks. As Si kept laughing and reacting to everything, Tracy began to feel numb. She didn't have him on her lap anymore, so he wouldn't see how bothered she was. She began to cry and turned her eyes to the corner, away from him. Tracy tried to cover her sniffles and wrapped her hands around her. 

The water streamed down her neck as the pressure pierced Tracy's head. With the slow swoop of her hair, the vaporing steam blew on her face. She could hardly breathe in the tight shower, but it was what she needed. She wanted to feel a near-death experience to wake her up to love reality. Life had made a turn for the worse in a little over a month. Really, it already had been. Living as a dumped child with other forgotten children was the worst. You'd be a target for every lousy event just because you lost your first love, a parent. If that was the worst, what would you call the present? A loop? Or maybe the effects of a cause. Tracy was staring at the wall with her red steamed eyes. She slowly turned the knob to feel the cold water before getting out. The chilling made her jump and eventually reach for a towel—another night of sleeping with a shifted mindset. 

The following day, the smell of bacon and eggs lingered in the bedroom. Tracy's nose twitched until her eyes opened. Her stomach growled, and she rolled out of bed. "Good morning, sweetheart," Si said excitedly, kissing her face. "Go and take a seat." He smacked her on the behind and continued turning the meat over.  She replied, "That was uncalled for..." before sitting. 

"Did you get some good sleep?"

"Yeah. Why you ask?"

"You were kind of moving and talking in your sleep last night." He scrapped the bacon onto a plate and walked both plates of food over to her. He glared at her,  "Are you okay?"  

"Yeah, I'm fine.." Tracy set a piece of bacon on her plate and began digging for eggs.

"You aren't....Is the memories of your stepd-"

"No, I am over that," she said clearly. He began to pour her a glass of orange juice. "I just want to make sure it isn't bothering you again." Tracy dropped her fork, making it clack against the glass."Can you drop it, please? I am okay." They ate in silence, excluding the smacking coming from Si.

Tracy washed her hands around the soapy water, barely focusing on the dishes.  "Tracy," Si said from behind. Tracy continued to scrub around the sink. "Tracy," he said louder.  She scrubbed harder. "Tracy!" he said, now grabbing a hold of her. She dropped her arms and tilted her head, facing her back away from him. "I-I want to try." Her eyes widened slightly, and she turned to him. Her eyelids began to fluster, "really?" she softly said. He nodded and gulped as if something caught his throat to respond.

Tracy rubbed her left thumb until she could finally embrace Simon. She gripped him tighter as she began to tear up. For two months, four weeks, and a day, Tracy believed she would lose Simon forever by going with her wants. Her "one" as she saw him subtracted from her lousy life and left with no remainder.  He was telling her it wasn't true—that only additional love would occur. She wanted to feel good, happy, and enthused, but for some reason, she felt bad. Like really bad. It could've been the baby, but her gut swirled and distended. Tracy held onto him, hoping he wouldn't let go. Soap water dripped down Simon's shirt. 

Si didn't tell Tracy, but he initiated picking up shifts, such as Fridays, at the factory. He put his boots on at the door and waved Tracy a salute, making her laugh. "I will be back with the bacon!" Tracy slapped him to go with a massive grin on her face. When the door shut behind him, the corner of her lips collapsed. Her head ached with the ambiance of the still apartment. She slouched and stared until she saw dust particles floating in the air. She counted in her head to figure out something to do, "3..2....1." Tracy collected the partially empty cleaning sprays and some blue gloves. She scrubbed the crease between the sink and countertop. The tub had a little mold coming in, so she let the bleach sit to eat it away. She blew a puff out before retiring to her room. With a slip of her gloves, she checked her phone to see if anyone called by then. It was only a few text messages from Carly that she ignored.

She realized how much time she's been away from Cam for the past weeks. Could it be disappointment and shame? Her thumb led her to Cam's contact and hovered over the call button. She dropped her phone with her thumb an inch away from the screen. She glared at the even more cracked screen with the reflection of her. She began to sob and drop to her knees. Tracy couldn't recognize herself anymore. What happened to the girl who stood before all the carekids and called herself the ruler? She touched her neck, still weeping uncontrollably. Was this the same throat used to yell her thoughts, opinions, and wants? Some of the many other kids in the shared home came out fine. Justine, Lousie, Crash, and Jackie were great examples. She thought even the kids she cared for were probably stronger than her. Her mind lingers on what really went wrong. Was it because she was a problem child, a serious wreck since the beginning? It was why her real mother didn't want her. Did anyone ever want her as much as she wanted this baby? She wanted to feel the will and desire of someone else. Someone who didn't know who she really was and how she acted.

Someone who would never question if they should keep Tracy Beaker in their life. 

It warmed Tracy's heart waking up next to Si facing her. She'd been glaring at his bare back for weeks now and this was the official end strike. Still, an aching feeling flowed through her body daily, making her believe it's too good to be true. She settled in a hot bath after working a 5:25am-3pm shift serving and doing a 4-8 at the library across the block. Tracy can never tell when the baby grows but every time she looks down, her belly's grown significantly. "I'm not huge," she thought, "I just look like a dad that drinks too much."

Tracy pops the plug and the water slowly spins down the drain. One foot after the other, she gets out and wipes the excess water. A few drops soaked the thin white towel matt that Si convinced her to steal a while back from her former hotel job. Considering that she woke up later than usual this morning, she seemingly had less daytime to spare.

"I can tell they're going to have a big head just like their dad."

"Mum, really?"

Cam chuckles, "look at that size." She pointed at the glossy picture and circle what seems to be the fetal's head.

"How can you tell? I thought all babies looked like peanuts before they fully developed," Tracy pouted. Her shoulders sparked up, "oh! Justine Littlewood once showed me and Louise a picture of her half brother when he was about this size. He looked the same." 

"You don't see the difference because it's your first."

Tracy side eyed Cam, "You never had a first! How would you know?" Cam playfully smacked Tracy after the statement. "But I do have a child of my own and watched her develop into a mean," Cam began to roughfully rub Tracy's head, "ole curly headed mess." They both laughed. Cam sighed,  "Don't get me started on me birthing a child...I probably would've been miserable if me and Gar-" her mouth stopped before her words and then she jumped off the couch. "I need to go check on one of my foster girls, Ellie. She had to stay at home because she's sick," she slide her hands against her jeans and rushed out the room, trying not to make too much eye contact with Tracy. 

Tracy wished Cam hadn't left her alone...with her thoughts. Even his name causes a stir these days. "The past is the past. It's probably the hormones," she thought. She took a breath and grabbed her phone to text Si.