Read Online Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum by Vi Grim - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vi Grim
Tags: Coming of Age, Pregnancy, pregnancy and childbirth, emily taylor, vi grim, age 14 to adult, the teenage mum, young mum
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chocolate-coated almonds and
Caramello. When there's no one around, I lie out in the sun naked
and read. My body turns beautiful and brown and my little bump
grows a little every day. Being pregnant suits me. I like being
pregnant. Best of all, I have to eat for him too. I open a packet
of Maltesers and have one for me, then one for him, one for me, one
for him, and in no time they're all gone!
I have big long siestas that
last from lunchtime to late afternoon. By the time I get up, it's
almost bedtime. One afternoon in late June I wake up with ringing
in my ears. It must be one of those funny side effects of being
pregnant. I go outside and it gets louder, a lot louder. Cicadas,
the cicadas have finally arrived! I call out to Zeus but he doesn't
answer. He hasn't talked to me since I got pregnant. He's probably
sitting on Isora, stoned out of his tree.
After reading
all seven Harry
Potters and all three Hunger Games , I'm as brown as a button and the cherries are ripe.
I climb up the old twisted tree and pick a basket full then walk up
to the bluff and sit with my feet dangling over the edge eating
cherries. After about a hundred I feel a funny sensation like
popcorn in my tummy. Maybe I'm going to be sick. There it is again,
and again, a little stronger. It's him, he's kicking. His dad needs
to feel that!
That night I set up the worm
and look out for Zula. He's still in the desert. He can't have seen
his boy yet. He's thinking of me too. Good! Let's really give him
something to think about!
I click my fingers and he's
there beside me. I hold him tight. It's so nice to have him there.
He gets all frisky but I don't want that just now. I do what's
needed to keep him happy then curl up in his arms pushing my tummy
against his. He reaches down and gently strokes the lump. I feel a
little butterfly wing of a kick. I hope Zula can feel it too.
'What-' Zula starts
asking.
I click my fingers before
something happens to break the spell.
It would be so nice if he could
be here the whole time. I'm sure he would like Camillo. If he
wanted a bit of action we could go out in the fighters together and
blast slimeballs. I could click my fingers and steal him away from
Ijju. I'd love to but I can't. You can't do things like that to
people you love.
Jesus said we'd have a rock
concert. I liked the idea at the time but now I just want to laze
through the summer. I don't want all those superstars hanging out
on Camillo. I'd probably get seduced again. It would be nice but it
would end in tears, my tears. They'd just want my body, like the
thousands of groupies they've had before. I need something a little
more, which they wouldn't understand or care about.
I discuss the concert with
Jesus because I think he'd like to do something. He suggests
inviting Bob Marley and his reggae band and Janice. We all like
Janice. Jesus and Azziz will invite their friends who normally hang
out at the cafe. They're really laid back and cool.
Janice arrives a few days early
and comes to stay with me. We sing, we paint wonderful abstract
paintings and hang them on the walls, then paint ourselves bright
yellow and chill out and chat.
We do the grisly job of killing
a sheep, and on the day of the reggae concert we catch fresh fish
and prepare the food. It's really simple; spit roasted lamb with
potatoes and corn and fish wrapped in tin foil cooked in the
embers. No messing around with salads, or puddings. The afternoon
passes in a flash; well it does for me anyway. Having been up since
dawn helping set things up, I have a sudden unexpected weary, and
curl up on a sofa in the shade of a coconut palm, surfacing
occasionally to listen to the reggae beat but not opening my eyes
until the sun has slipped behind the hills and our guests have
departed.
Negrita has started buzzing.
She struts around the house buzzing, then opens her mouth and out
flies a cicada. She toys with them until they buzz no more, then
lightly roasts them and swallows them whole.
Caramello. When there's no one around, I lie out in the sun naked
and read. My body turns beautiful and brown and my little bump
grows a little every day. Being pregnant suits me. I like being
pregnant. Best of all, I have to eat for him too. I open a packet
of Maltesers and have one for me, then one for him, one for me, one
for him, and in no time they're all gone!
I have big long siestas that
last from lunchtime to late afternoon. By the time I get up, it's
almost bedtime. One afternoon in late June I wake up with ringing
in my ears. It must be one of those funny side effects of being
pregnant. I go outside and it gets louder, a lot louder. Cicadas,
the cicadas have finally arrived! I call out to Zeus but he doesn't
answer. He hasn't talked to me since I got pregnant. He's probably
sitting on Isora, stoned out of his tree.
After reading
all seven Harry
Potters and all three Hunger Games , I'm as brown as a button and the cherries are ripe.
I climb up the old twisted tree and pick a basket full then walk up
to the bluff and sit with my feet dangling over the edge eating
cherries. After about a hundred I feel a funny sensation like
popcorn in my tummy. Maybe I'm going to be sick. There it is again,
and again, a little stronger. It's him, he's kicking. His dad needs
to feel that!
That night I set up the worm
and look out for Zula. He's still in the desert. He can't have seen
his boy yet. He's thinking of me too. Good! Let's really give him
something to think about!
I click my fingers and he's
there beside me. I hold him tight. It's so nice to have him there.
He gets all frisky but I don't want that just now. I do what's
needed to keep him happy then curl up in his arms pushing my tummy
against his. He reaches down and gently strokes the lump. I feel a
little butterfly wing of a kick. I hope Zula can feel it too.
'What-' Zula starts
asking.
I click my fingers before
something happens to break the spell.
It would be so nice if he could
be here the whole time. I'm sure he would like Camillo. If he
wanted a bit of action we could go out in the fighters together and
blast slimeballs. I could click my fingers and steal him away from
Ijju. I'd love to but I can't. You can't do things like that to
people you love.
Jesus said we'd have a rock
concert. I liked the idea at the time but now I just want to laze
through the summer. I don't want all those superstars hanging out
on Camillo. I'd probably get seduced again. It would be nice but it
would end in tears, my tears. They'd just want my body, like the
thousands of groupies they've had before. I need something a little
more, which they wouldn't understand or care about.
I discuss the concert with
Jesus because I think he'd like to do something. He suggests
inviting Bob Marley and his reggae band and Janice. We all like
Janice. Jesus and Azziz will invite their friends who normally hang
out at the cafe. They're really laid back and cool.
Janice arrives a few days early
and comes to stay with me. We sing, we paint wonderful abstract
paintings and hang them on the walls, then paint ourselves bright
yellow and chill out and chat.
We do the grisly job of killing
a sheep, and on the day of the reggae concert we catch fresh fish
and prepare the food. It's really simple; spit roasted lamb with
potatoes and corn and fish wrapped in tin foil cooked in the
embers. No messing around with salads, or puddings. The afternoon
passes in a flash; well it does for me anyway. Having been up since
dawn helping set things up, I have a sudden unexpected weary, and
curl up on a sofa in the shade of a coconut palm, surfacing
occasionally to listen to the reggae beat but not opening my eyes
until the sun has slipped behind the hills and our guests have
departed.
Negrita has started buzzing.
She struts around the house buzzing, then opens her mouth and out
flies a cicada. She toys with them until they buzz no more, then
lightly roasts them and swallows them whole.
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