This is the best story i've ever read on nairaland but please are you the main author of this books?

Thanks for completing the story here on nairaland and i pray that God to grant you divine connection with nollywood so that you can write good and interesting script to them in jesus name Amen.

Nice story
following......
More update

Hmmmmmm! What a story! Pele.[/quote]
i wish i can write stories with good grammars like you....

Hmmmmmm! What a story! Pele.[/quote]
i wish can write stories with good grammars like you....

This story just remind me of my secondary school life.
Chapter ONE( TRUE LIFE STORY )
There is this girl by name blessing she and her friends hated me so much when we were in junior class just because i don't talk to people and em always puffing with my starch shirt and sagged short.
But i was surprise when she start having a crush on me that everybody in ma class knew about it but i was too dull to act fast though i started loving her because she was so caring.but one day a guy walk up to me and asked me if she's ma date but i said No and the guy went and said some magical words into her brain and she told me everything and even ask me if she should accept the guy proposal and i said Yes.
But i later regret it because they way she started treating me only God know's....but before she'd beg me on facebook to just ask her out but i was too BUHARIC to comply so the golden opportunity slipped through ma fingers and now when ever i see's her my heart would skip a beat and i will be happy I think i'm still in love and i'm a PRISONER OF LOVE....
THE END

Enjoying the story...

I thing the serial killer should be Avanna the guy that rescue you from the cat the fighter.

Nice story pls continue
lalasticlala,divenpen1 pls push it to the front page

Rosemary33

[quote author=honourable356 post=70628663] I have not been able to comment for a long time here because either I am itching to have an argument concerning the state of the nation and every pro and cons happening or I am many a times overwhelmed with laughter.

Now arguing intricately will derail this thread....

Laughing repeatedly would prevent me from analyzing this.

But...

I have one objection.
Having known who had sex with her,she then want more from that same person...Concerning this,i have this to say...either the nurse has been hypnotized or the ladies audience here would be in the best position to refute or acknowledge the above assertion.


Apart from that,i have few words for you...
Bravo bravo bravo Innocent.
In this style of writing that indirectly /directly discussing the state of the nation ranging from politics,religion,entertainment, soccer, domestic violence etc you are undoubtedly in a world of your own.

The teenagers would learn...
The youth would created opinions..
The adult would argue...
You will give every individual capable of reading something to talk about...
All in one,you got them lectured and entertained.

He nods...
Your work is outrageously commendable!!!


ONE THING THAT I HAVE BEEN NOTICING ABOUT YOU IS THAT YOU CRITIZE A LOT BUT YOUR CRITICS IS GOOD BUT PLEASE DON'T OVER DO IT AND I WOULD LOVE TO READ YOUR STORY SO THAT I WILL ALSO SEE HOW GOOD YOU ARE..

This is ma first time of commenting in literature section
this story issa goal centino issa goal BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT LETS PLAY A GAME


CENTINO VS CHIMMANDA ADECHIE

WHO IS THE BEST WRITER
LIKE LIKE LIKE LIKE LIKE FOR CENTINO
AND AND AND AND
SHARE SHARE SHARE SHARE SHARE FOR CHIMMANDA ADECHIE...
In mama Akunna's voice LET THE GAME BEGAN......
The highest like and share winssss...

www.nairaland.com/123450001/Sugar-Daddy/




make no body vex i wan learn how to create link on nairaland bt thd winner na YOUNGZUBI
[/quote]

www.nairaland.com/1001234/sugar-daddy/

make no body vex i wan learn how to create link on nairaland bt thd winner na YOUNGZUBI

#YOUNGZUBI_sex_na_food

Chapter 21 When Busi got home she was cold and exhausted. She felt ill. “Where have you been?” asked her granny. “You should be looking after yourself.” That’s what she was doing, thought Busi. She was looking after herself. She wouldn’t let Parks hurt her any more. “Did you see him? Were you with him?” asked her grandmother. “It’s okay, Gogo. It’s over,” she said. “This time for good.” Her granny hugged her close. “I’m proud of you.” “I’ve made such a mess of things,” Busi said. “Yes, you have. Things would have been very different if you hadn’t fallen pregnant. It is going to be very difficult. And you are going to have to be strong, and you are going to have to make a lot of sacrifices. You are lucky you have good friends, and you have me. Not every pregnant girl has family or friends she can count on. Sometimes it breaks them. You are going to have to grow up fast, my girl. Now go and sleep. You need it.” There were tears on Busi’s cheeks as she closed her eyes, but for the first time in days she slept deeply. * * * She woke to a chatter of familiar voices – her friends had come to visit. “We were waiting for you to wake up,” said Lettie. “Your granny told us everything.” They all hugged Busi. “Are you okay?” asked Lettie. Busi nodded. “It’s over with Parks,” she said. And she started to cry. Lettie hugged her. “We’ll be there for you,” she said. “Now that it’s over with Parks, maybe you can think more clearly about the baby,” said Asanda. It was true, thought Busi. But then her granny put her head around the blanket that hung between the bedroom and the kitchen. She sounded excited. “Your mother phoned while you were sleeping,” she said. “She’s bought a ticket, and she’s coming down to see you.” “Thank you, Gogo,” said Busi as her grandmother returned to the kitchen, leaving the girls to talk. But really Busi didn’t know how she felt about her mother coming. They would fight – she knew it. If she decided to keep the baby, she wanted to look after it. She wouldn’t let her mom take it. What kind of a mother would Ibe, thought Busi? Would I cope? Would I leave my baby with someone else and run away? “I don’t even know how I would raise a child on my own. I have no income. Besides, I have to go to school …” “Sizakunceda,” said Ntombi, “… whatever you decide.” Busi smiled. She had good friends. But it would be tough. Whatever she decided, it would be tough. She looked around the small room. There was someone missing. “Where’s Unathi?” she asked. “He’s coming,” said Asanda, “don’t worry.” “You have a real talent for reading people’s minds,” laughed Lettie. “And I have a real talent for falling pregnant,” said Busi. “You have lots of talents,” said Unathi. He had come in quietly. “You don’t know half of them yet.” * * * When the girls had left, Unathi stayed behind. Busi turned to him. What could she say? “I’m sorry, for everything.” “It’s okay,” he said, putting his arm around her. She felt his warmth against her. She felt safe. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, I’ll be there.” “Unathi?” “Yes?” “I heard what you said when you ran after the taxi. You said I was strong.” “It’s true, Busi,” he smiled. “Never forget it!” THE END.

do you love her?” She was shouting now. “Ndinithanda nobabini. Really I do. We can work something out.” He lit a cigarette. “Forget about me!” Busi said. “I’m never going to be a secret in anyone’s life, least of all yours!” She stood up. “This will be the end of me,” he said feebly. “This will be the end of my marriage. What are we going to do? What will I do if she throws me out?” “Can’t you live without her?” asked Busi. But Parks wasn’t listening to her. “Can’t you go to Jozi, give the child up? I can arrange everything for you.” Then when he saw that she wasn’t necessarily going to do as he wished any more, he stood up and crushed his cigarette in the sand. “I’m bleeped!” he screamed. He was striding back to the taxi. She followed him two steps behind. Suddenly she feared for herself … and the baby. “I’m nothing without my wife!” he said. “Don’t you understand that?” He punched his fist against the taxi. “She owns this bloody taxi. She owns everything!” Busi stared at him. Is that all he could think about? Did he feel nothing for the baby? For his own baby? “We should have used condoms, Parks. You should at least have done that, knowing you were married.” “Shut up!” he shouted at her. Busi was scared of him now, scared of his anger erupting at everything she said. She had to get away from him. “Okay, Parks,” she said, “I’ll meet you to talk about it later. But I have to go to school now. I have an appointment with Mr Khumalo.” He looked relieved, like he had won. “I’ll fetch you afterwards,” he said. “You’ll be there?” “Yes,” she lied and he believed her. But she knew that it wouldn’t be her waiting for him outside the school. It would be Mr Khumalo. Because now she was going to tell him everything about Parks. Yonke into.

Chapter 20 Busi had strange, disturbing dreams that night. She dreamed that she was standing at the school gate and Parks and his wife were sitting outside in that big black car. She couldn’t move. She just watched as they held up a baby. It was hers and she heard it crying, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t reach it. And then they were driving off. She woke up crying. It was light outside and her phone was ringing. She saw Parks’s name on the screen. She would tell him to get out of her life, to leave her alone. It would be the last time she spoke to him. But when he answered so softly, so concerned, she wasn’t so sure any more. And she wanted an explanation. She wanted to know why? “Why didn’t you tell me you were married, Parks?” “Me, married? Who told you that, baby?” So he didn’t know that his wife had called her in the middle of the night. And now he was lying to her again, pretending that everything was fine. “You are, Parks!” she said, “Your wife phoned me. Why didn’t you tell me?” There was silence on the other end. She could sense him struggling with what to say now that his secret was out. “You never asked me, baby!” He said it so casually, she couldn’t believe it. “I love you, baby – that’s all that matters. We’ll work something out.” He tried to sound reassuring. How could he talk of love? How could he switch so quickly to saying they’d work something out, when he had left her alone to have an abortion. There was only one thing he wanted to work out – how to get rid of her baby. Busi heard her grandmother shuffling about in the kitchen, she heard her pouring water from the tap. “Shall I fetch you, baby? Shall I come through now?” “No, Parks,” she whispered. When they had made love, he had been married. When they had taken that romantic stroll and he had given her a locket, he had been married. He had betrayed her, and his wife. She was aware of her heart slowly turning around, turning inside out, shedding every memory of the love she had had for him. She felt like a trespasser and a fraud. And it hurt so much. She had wanted to believe that their child was conceived in love. She had clung onto that. But now even that had been ripped away from her. “I need to see you,” he said. And then he said the words that found the chink in her armour: “You owe me that. Just once more, Busi, for the child. I am the father … You owe me that.” “Yeka, Parks.” “Please. For all we had together … I’ll meet you in ten minutes. I’ll be waiting at the end of your road. Say yes.” He wasthe father. He would always be the father. She did owe him that, she thought. “Busi! Yeka!” As she walked towards Parks’s taxi, she heard Unathi. She heard him shouting from the other end of the street. But she was five steps away from Parks’s taxi and she didn’t turn around. “Remember you are strong, Busi!” Unathi shouted, as he ran down the street towards her. “You are strong!” But he was too late. The taxi took off, leaving dust in his face. Had she heard him? * * * Parks took Busi to the sea. But there was no picnic this time, and the sky was overcast. She wanted to huddle next to him for warmth. But she would not let herself. She would not touch him, even though she was freezing. “Womelele!” That’s what Unathi had called after her. She had heard him. Parks sat up straight and looked out over the ocean. She followed his gaze, watching the squawking seagulls scavenging around a group of fishermen down on the rocks below. “The baby, Busi. You can’t have the baby – not now, not this one. It will hurt her too much.” “Hurt her? What about me, Parks?” She turned to him. “What about me?” “You can’t have this baby, Busi. It will kill her if I have a baby with someone else.” “You should have thought of that!” she spat. He tried to put his arm around her. He tried to use those old, sweet, flattering words. “You are strong, Busi!” She heard Unathi’s voice in her head. “Busi, my darling, if I could I would leave her and marry you. Please understand that. But we can still be together. We just have to be careful. I really love you, that’s for sure.” He pulled her towards him again. She pushed him away and looked him straight in the eye. “Uyamthanda yena?” she asked. He fumbled in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I said,

Busi’s mouth went dry. “That’s right,” the woman went on, when Busi didn’t speak. “You have seen me. I was the woman in the black car at the Formula One. I watched you and my husband go in and come out. I know everything. My husband told me … You see, he’s not good at hiding things.” The woman in the black car – it was the woman she had seen in her dreams. “You’re not the only girl Parks has had,” the woman said. Busi felt a pain in her stomach like someone had stabbed her with a knife. “But you’re the first to get pregnant. And we can’t have that. Uyayazi? I won’t have Parks’s bastard child running around. I won’t have it, do you hear? So do as Parks says – get rid of it. And leave him alone. Do you understand?” But before she could reply the phone went dead. He was married. And he hadn’t told her.

Chapter 19 Busi didn’t know how she’d got home. It was a blur. She just knew that she’d run away from the doctor’s surgery where Parks had abandoned her and nobody knew her, to somewhere safe where people cared about her. She had found her way home like those homing pigeons. However far away you let them go, they would always find their way back home to safety. The next day she returned to the clinic. Sitting in the sister’s room she felt pain for what Parks had done, but she also felt stronger. It felt good keeping her word and coming back to see the sister. It made her feel in control again. The sister was smiling at her. And when she reached across the desk and took her hand, all Busi’s held-in tears came pouring out. The sister handed her a tissue. “There, you let it all out,” she said. And when Busi had stopped crying and had taken a deep breath, the sister said, “Have you thought about it, Busi?” “Yes,” she answered. “But I haven’t decided yet. It’s so hard.” “You know, termination isn’t the only option. You could also have the baby adopted.” Busi had thought about it all night. She had thought about school, about her baby not having a dad. She had thought about what her family would say, and her friends, and how she would feel if she had a termination. She had thought about being stuck at home with a baby while her friends went out. She had thought so much it had felt like her brain was bursting. And she had felt so many different emotions it was like her heart was splitting open. “Well, whatever you decide, we must take good care of you,” said the sister, kindly. She gave her vitamins to take, then added, “The earlier you decide, the better. Come back in a few days when you’ve had some more time to think. But remember, the later you leave it the more difficult it will be to get a termination.” “Thank you,” Busi said as she left. She was still in a daze. She just wanted to be alone. But when she got home her granny couldn’t wait to tell her the news. “Your mother wants to raise the baby.” “My mother, Gogo?” “Yes! She wants to come down in December when you will be giving birth and she wants to take him with her, back to Johannesburg.” “Him?” “She’s sure it’s a boy,” said her granny. Busi was stunned. Her mother hadn’t raised her. Why should she want this baby?” She was angry. Her granny didn’t even know if she had decided to have the baby, and she was making decisions for her. “Gogo, what about what Iwant?” But it was like her granny hadn’t heard her. “It’s a good idea, Busi,” she was saying. “Where will we find money to support a little baby? Babies are expensive! You have to buy nappies, you need money when they get sick – and they get sick. And we’re not giving your baby to a stranger.” “Who says I am having the baby?” Busi shouted, and she ran through to her bed. She lay there, her hands over her stomach. Her mother wanted to take this baby away. She hadn’t even spoken to her about it. Did she mean so little to them? And Parks, he had just wanted to get rid of it. They had no right. “Busi?” “I need to be alone,” Busi shouted. It felt good, this small thing of saying what she needed. But they wouldn’t leave her alone. No sooner had she laid down on her bed than her phone rang. It was Parks. Perhaps he had phoned to say he was sorry for not coming with her to the doctor. Perhaps he had changed his mind. And she felt so alone. So she answered it. But all he said was, “So did you do it? Is it finished? I’ve been trying to call you.” “How could you leave me there alone?” She drew on all the courage she had. “Did you want me to stay with you? I had things to do …” And then, when she was silent, his tone changed. “Baby, I need you. It doesn’t matter … I just need to talk. We’ll get through this. I’ll call you later. I need to see you.” She switched the phone off. “We’ll get through this,” he had said. She was so confused and tired, she just needed to sleep. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow she would decide what to do. * * * In the dark another call came. Not from her friends, not from Parks. An unknown number shone on the screen. And when she said hello, a woman greeted her. Her voice sounded cold and far away. It wasn’t her mother, whom she had hoped would call her. This was a stranger. “Who is this?” Busi asked. “You must have the wrong number.” “Is this Busi?” the woman asked. “Yes,” Busi said, uncertainly. “Then I have the right number. What I want to know is what you want from my husband?” “There must be some mistake,” said Busi. There was silence. Busi’s heart started pounding. “No mistake,” the woman said. “I am married to Parks. Do you understand? I am his wife.”

She dialled Parks’s number, but then switched the phone off before he could answer. She had nothing to say to him. She had nothing but a terrible pain in her heart. But she knew one thing for certain. She would decide whether she had this baby or not – not Parks, not her granny, not her parents or her friends. It was her decision. It was her body.

Parks wasn’t at the bus stop at nine – it was more like half past. “We’re late!” he said as she climbed into the taxi, its engine still roaring. The gaadjie grinned at her as they swerved in and out of the traffic. He laughed out loud as she fell against Parks when he mounted a pavement, annoying the other frustrated road-users. “We’ve got to be in Mitchells Plain by ten,” Parks said when he saw the look on her face. “We’ve got to move it!” She thought that he wanted to see her again to talk about the baby. To work out how they would tell her granny that he was the father. But here he was saying they were going to Mitchells Plain – and with the gaadjie in the back. Busi couldn’t hold her tongue any more. She wanted to be sick and her head pounded. “Slow down, Parks. You’re going too fast. I’m feeling ill. Where are we going?” “I told you – Mitchells Plain. I’m taking you to a doctor who will take care of you.” “But I’ve already seen a sister at the clinic … You know that. I don’t understand.” “Shh! You talk too much,” Parks snapped. * * * They stopped in a parking lot outside a brick building. Medical Centre, it said on the sign. There were a lot of people going in and out. “Take this,” said Parks, pressing a wad of notes into her hands. “I’ll fetch you later. Just SMS me when you’re done. Then we can go and eat somewhere nice.” “Done with what? Parks, I don’t understand.” “Dr Bester is on the third floor. He’s expecting you. Go now, you can’t be late.” Busi got out and closed the passenger door. “Aren’t you coming with me?” she asked. “Who is this Dr Bester?” But Parks was already speeding away. * * * Busi stood in the parking lot outside the Medical Centre and watched Parks drive off in his taxi without a backward glance. She was all alone. She felt like dying, there and then. It seemed the only way she could escape the terrible things that were happening to her. “Are you lost?” a man asked her. “I’m looking for Dr Bester,” she said. She didn’t like the way the man was looking at her. “In there,” he said, pointing to the building. “Come with me – I’ll show you.” She could have turned and run, but she followed him inside and into the doctor’s waiting room. No one smiled. Not the receptionist, not one of the other patients sitting sullenly in the posh armchairs lining the wall. They shuffled up to make room for her and then went back to the glossy magazines they were reading. Others just stared at the wall. The receptionist had been expecting her. She ticked Busi’s name on the list and gave her a form to fill in. “Have you had counselling?” “Counselling?” “For the termination,” the receptionist went on. She looked at Busi like she was stupid and slow. “I’m going for counselling later,” Busi said. “At the clinic.” But the woman didn’t hear her clearly. She just pointed to where Busi needed to fill in her details on the form. “Okay,” she said. “Just write that down.” She pointed with her pen. “What is this?” asked Busi, looking at the form. “You have to fill it in for the termination,” the receptionist said coolly, as if she was talking about the weather. “Abortion,” she said. “Do you understand why you’re here?” “Abor–?” Is this what Parks wanted? Busi sat down amongst the other patients and stared at the form on the clipboard in front of her. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. And now she realised what he meant. He made the decision without her. She wanted to get up and run, but she couldn’t. Then the door of the doctor’s room opened and his assistant came out and called Busi by her full name. “Are you alone?” she asked, as Busi walked down the corridor towards her. “My boyfriend dropped me here,” said Busi. “You’re very young,” the woman said. “It must be a difficult time for you.” Busi nodded. “Please take your clothes off in the bathroom and put this gown on,” she continued, handing her a blue cotton gown. “Then come back to Dr Bester’s room. He’ll be with you in a few minutes.” Busi did as she was told, then sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair and waited for the doctor. She couldn’t help but notice the hospital bed in the corner, with its paper sheet and stainless- steel instruments in a dish next to it. When Dr Bester came in he didn’t greet her, or ask how she was, or even ask her name. And when he saw that she was still wearing her panties under the gown he reminded her that she needed to take everything off. When she returned from the bathroom, naked except for the cotton gown, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the strange steel instruments. They seemed so cold and frightening. The doctor turned his back for a moment to wash his hands and put his latex gloves on. Suddenly Busi knew that she had to escape. Without a word she rushed out of the door and back to the bathroom, where she pulled on her clothes. Then she ran – down the corridor and past Dr Bester’s room, through Reception, into the lift and out onto the street. It was only then that she realised she was still clutching the blue cotton gown. She stuffed it into a bin at the hospital entrance.

Chapter 18 Parks’s call woke her up in the morning. “Don’t you sleep?” she wanted to know. “Meet me at the bus stop after nine. We need to talk.” He spoke above the impatient noises in the taxi. When Busi got up, her grandmother was already busy in the kitchen. “I’m going to see Mr Khumalo,” the old lady said. “Maybe it would be better if I saw him on my own first. So you stay here until I return. Do you hear me, Busi?” “Gogo, please don’t tell him about Parks. Mr Khumalo will be angry with him. He might report him to the police.” “He should report this Parks. He is a danger to schoolgirls. But for now I will only tell him that you are pregnant. He needs to know why you have been missing so much school.” Busi didn’t like the idea of her grandmother talking to Mr Khumalo. But she also felt relieved: now that her granny was going out she had the gap she was looking for. Great! She helped her granny clear the kitchen. “Go on, Gogo, I’ll finish up here,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

She lay still on her bed and listened to his car pulling off into the night, tyres screeching.

Chapter 17 It was after ten that night when he tapped on her window. “Parks, what are you doing here?” she whispered sleepily. “We must talk,” he said. “Come, come with me.” Quickly she pulled her tracksuit on over her pyjamas and crept out past her sleeping granny into the cold night. He was standing hunched up, smoking a cigarette. “Quick, baby – get in my taxi.” It was warm inside the taxi. He gave her a quick hug, but he was distracted and on edge. “Parks, you said you’d see me later. But you never said when. I thought …” “And here I am. Would I forget about you? Never.” He started the engine and drove left, then right and right again. They were heading away from the township towards the freeway. She recognised his route – they had taken it many times. “I can’t believe I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “I know, baby, I know. Don’t worry, I’m here.” He took her hand and squeezed it. And suddenly she felt safe. It was going to be all right. In that moment she wanted the baby so badly. It would be hers and Parks’s. “What are we going to do?” she asked, staring out of the window into the dark. Lights flashed past. “I’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry. I promise.” “Will we get married? If my granny meets you and you tell her you want to marry me, she may feel better. She feels responsible, you know, like she’s let my mother down …” He laughed. “You’re too young to be married.” “But I’m not too young to be a mother …” “You are too young …” “But …” “I told you not to worry – I’ll take care of it …” They drove to Muizenberg, where he had to meet someone to talk about a business venture. While they waited in a pub outside the station, he downed a beer and she ordered a plate of hot chips and a Coke. The man he had arranged to meet arrived with a cigarette in a cigarette holder and a rasping voice. “Cash up front … cash up front …,” was all that Busi heard. Eventually the man left. Parks turned to her and smiled, “Are you still hungry?” She shook her head. “We should have used condoms,” he sighed. “It’s too late now,” Busi said. How could he be so casual? Now he was saying they should have used condoms. What about then, when it had been “Don’t worry – I know what I’m doing”. She felt her heart clench tightly inside her. “Never mind – I’ll take care of you,” he said crushing out his cigarette in his polystyrene coffee cup. It made a hissing sound. It was late and the manager approached them, saying he wanted to close the place. He would take care of her. It would be all right. At least they would be together. Parks held her hand as they drove back along the sea. “I love you, baby – please trust me. I want you to be happy and successful.” His voice was a little slurred and she realised that he had drunk too much while they were waiting in the café. “I’m taking you to the doctor in the morning,” he said. “I’ve been to the clinic already,” Busi told him. “My granny took me. You weren’t there. I tried to call when the test said I was pregnant. They took an HIV test too.” “And?” “It was negative.” “You see? I told you I was fine,” said Parks. “They told me I have to have another test after three months. They said sometimes the HIV doesn’t show so early, Parks. They said I must go back to talk about what to do with the baby.” “You don’t need to see a counsellor, baby. Parks knows best. I’ll give you the best advice.” Maybe he was right? He was the father after all. It wasn’t just her baby, she thought. The wind came up and blew white sea sand over the road, so the tar wasn’t visible any more. Fine sand stung at the windows. He changed gear, but still the car swerved across the road. Busi was scared. She was grateful to finally reach her house. “Can I come in?” he asked. He must be crazy, she thought, or drunk. “Shh!” Busi whispered. “No, no, you can’t. You’ll wake my granny.” “I thought she wanted to meet me.” “Not now! Now go, go!”

Busi told them about her visit to the clinic. “I had to wee in a little glass jar and give it to them. I was so nervous, I spilled the wee on the sister’s desk.” “Sies man!” Lettie laughed. “And I had to have blood taken. Look at my bruised arm.” She showed them the bluish mark where the sister had taken blood. “And?” “I’m negative.” “Well, that’s good,” said Lettie hopefully. “But I have to go back in three months, to make sure.” “I hope it’s a girl,” Zinzi said dreamily. “Yes, I love baby girls,” added Lettie. “Shh! Busi doesn’t even know if she’s going to go through with the pregnancy,” said Asanda. “Remember Prudence. And she’s fine now. She’s doing well.” “Unathi can be the daddy,” piped up Zinzi. She didn’t understand what they were talking about. “I can see him pushing a pram! Better still, Unathi changing nappies. Yuck!” She laughed. As they talked, Busi found she was holding her belly. There was a baby in there, growing. Ten fingers and ten toes. She was suddenly filled with such strong, tender emotions, it frightened her. It would be a very difficult decision.

They walked to the clinic in silence. What was there to say until they knew for sure? In the clinic her granny greeted one of the women in the queue who was there with her daughter. Soon they would all know about Busi. Only fifteen and pregnant – and with a taxi driver! * * * They had to wait for a long time in the queue. But when the clinic sister finally saw them, she was friendly. Busi was relieved – they weren’t always so sympathetic. She told Busi that there was only one thing to do right now and that was to take a pregnancy test. She sent her into the toilet with a small cup for her urine. Then she dipped the test stick in and they all waited. Those were the longest minutes of Busi’s life. There was one line and then, faintly at first, but getting stronger, a second line appeared in the window of the pregnancy stick. There it was. Two lines: pregnant. “Have you been tested for HIV?” the sister asked her. “No,” Busi said, shaking her head. This was a nightmare. “You will need to go to the counsellor for that. She will tell you what you need to know. Then she will do a test. You will have the result in ten minutes. It’s quick,” said the sister. “It’s not like it used to be, when you had to wait. That was terrible – the waiting.” “What if I am positive?” Busi asked, her voice trembling. “What then?” “Then we will take things one day at a time,” the sister said. “Many young women like you are HIV-positive and they give birth to babies who are just fine. If you are positive we will put you onto the right medicine to protect your baby.” She was calm as she said this and it made Busi feel better. Like it might be all right. Like this nightmare might end. “Do you know if your partner is HIV-positive?” “No, he isn’t,” said Busi quickly. “It is better that we test anyway.” “Yes,” her granny said quickly. “People will tell you all kinds of things.” “Does he know that you’re pregnant?” The sister looked at her. “Not yet,” Busi lied. “When did you have unprotected sex?” Busi thought back to the first time. It was six weeks ago. Six whole weeks since she had gone to the Formula One with Parks. But surely she couldn’t have fallen pregnant so quickly? “I want you to come back after the HIV test,” the sister said. “I want to talk to you about the options you have.” “Options?” asked Busi. What options were there? She was pregnant. To get rid of the baby would be unthinkable for her granny, for her family. They would say that she was killing the baby. That it would bring shame on all of them. And now the sister was talking about options? “I know what people say about terminating your pregnancy, Busi. I know what you will have heard. People say such things all the time,” said the sister gently. “But it is your choice. You are the one who is going to have to take care of a baby.” Busi thought of Prudence. She was in Matric at Harmony High. When she had fallen pregnant and had a termination her mother had said she would go to hell. But Prudence was strong. She had decided and she had gone to the hospital on her own. Busi had admired her. And now Prudence was doing fine. She had a boyfriend who loved her and one day she would have children. “Think about it carefully,” the sister said. But Busi’s granny was shaking her head. “There is nothing to think about. She will have the baby. And her mother will take care of it. And she will go back to school.” The sister kept looking at Busi. “Come back tomorrow,” she said. Then, taking her arm, she added, “After twelve weeks it is very difficult to get a termination, Busi. After that you can’t change your mind. Do you understand?” Busi nodded. At home she dissolved into floods of tears. Pregnant, and before hersixteenth birthday! Her life had ended. She lay on the bed unable to move. If Parks didn’t marry her now, nobody would. Who would want a sixteen-year-old girl with a baby? But if Parks wanted her and the baby? Thatwas the answer. That was the only way. She started to imagine them in a house together and Parks laughing and bouncing the baby on his knee. But what if Parks didn’t want it? What then? She would be trapped. She was too young to have a child. What about her dreams, her education, her bright future? Six weeks, the sister had said. Six weeks to decide whether she wanted this baby. After that it would be too late. That afternoon her friends came to see her. The news had spread fast. Unathi came too. “Have you come to gloat?” Busi hissed as they came into the house. “I’ve just come to tell you,” Unathi said gently with a slight, sad smile, “I’m here for you if you need me.” “So sweet, Unathi,” said Zinzi, who had come with the older girls. “Where is Parks now? Have you told him?” Lettie asked. “He’s coming later,” Busi said, hoping this was true. “He’s been very supportive.” “I don’t see him here,” said Lettie. “Did he come to the clinic with you?” Busi shook her head. “What will you do now?” Asanda wanted to know. “Will you have the baby?” “I don’t know,” Busi answered. “I don’t know yet.” “What does being pregnant feel like?” Zinzi wanted to know.

Chapter 16 In the cold morning light Busi shivered in bed. She had already had to run across the yard twice to throw up in the toilet, and it was freezing outside. She felt like she was going to die and still Parks hadn’t called. Chill, he had texted. How could she not panic? And when was he going to see her? She was on her own and she was going to the clinic with her granny. Everyone would know by now, if those church ladies had anything to do with it. There was still a chance she wasn’t pregnant, she told herself. It could be stomach trouble or stress. She had been under enough of that lately. But underneath that voice was the voice that said, of course you’re pregnant, you stupid, stupid girl. It was so unfair! It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to use a condom every time. She had always had one in her bag. But Parks had convinced her it would be okay. She had nothing to worry about. And now, a baby! Busi felt guilty and angry. She knew how bad her grandmother would feel. Her mom had trusted Busi to her care. But it wasn’t her granny’s fault Busi had lied to her. She wanted to curl up and disappear. What would they do when they found out she was pregnant? “It’s nearly time to go,” her granny said, handing her a cup of sweet black tea. “Drink this. If you are pregnant, Busi, your mother will have to look after the baby.”

Chapter 15 When Busi got home she was cold, tired and miserable, and she was dreading having to confront her granny. She just wanted to run away. But this was the only home she had. She was also nauseous from the taxi ride and she felt like throwing up. She must look terrible, she thought, as she opened the door of their shack. She was horrified to find that her grandmother was not alone. The ladies from church had come around for tea. Their noisy chatter died down as soon as she came in. They just stared at her. She had disgraced her family – she saw it on her granny’s face in that moment. “Come here, ntombi,” said her grandmother. “Gogo ...,” she stammered. “Look at you, Busi,” one of the other ladies said. “Where did you sleep last night?” asked her granny, sternly. “Why was your phone on voicemail? I phoned all your friends. I was so worried, and none of them knew where you were. What is going on, Busi?” “My battery died, Gogo,” she lied, avoiding the accusing eyes of all her grandmother’s friends. “Your granny has sacrificed her life for you …,” one of the other members of the church group said, “and look at the thanks she gets.” “Since when do you lie to the woman who raised you?” She couldn’t look at them. They were all staring. She was being shamed. “Go and wash yourself and change your clothes,” her granny said. As she walked out of the kitchen she heard one of the ladies say, “Today’s young people – they would never be able to live through what we had to live through. You must watch her. Does she still get her period regularly?” * * * Busi went to the lean-to in the yard where they washed. She stared at herself in the small mirror balanced on a piece of wood. When last did she get her period? She panicked. Parks had always said he knew what he was doing. Since that first time in the hotel, they’d had sex several times: in the back of his taxi, on a blanket in the forest, sometimes with a condom, sometimes without. She rubbed her hands over her stomach and felt ill. The Coke and chips she had eaten in the taxi came rushing up and splashed all over the floor. This couldn’t be happening to her. No, not to her, please no! Back in her room she looked in the box next to her bed. There was a packet of unused sanitary pads. Her granny always bought one for her each month. She could hear them talking. She felt that they were watching her. How had she not noticed that she missed a period? She didn’t think. She just typed the words and sent the message. Hlp me. I thnk I’m preg. He had left her alone in that strange house. Was this it, had he disappeared again? But then her screen lit up. Dnt panic bby, will c u l8er. No mention of why he had left her, or where he was. She looked in the mirror again. Did she know this person staring back at her? “What am I going to do with a baby?” she asked herself. She mouthed the word “baby”, afraid to say it out loud. She waited until she had heard her grandmother’s friends leave before she ventured out of her room. “What is going on, Busi?” her grandmother asked her again. She didn’t know what to say. “Are you going to have a baby, Busi?” This time her grandmother was direct. “I don’t know, Gogo,” said Busi, barely audible. “Uthandana nendoda?” Busi swallowed. How could she admit this to her grandmother? But her silence was all the answer her granny needed. “Tomorrow we are going to the clinic,” she said coldly. “I can’t believe you, Busi – you, of all people! What is going on in your head? Why are you playing with your life? And your mother and father trusted me! What am I going to tell them?”