Schoolgirl’s Secret
Chapter Six – Missed Days, Missed Periods
Brenda always tracked her days.
Debate meetings. Mock exams. School assemblies. Even her cycle.
That’s why, when her period didn’t come, she knew something was off.
At first, she convinced herself it was stress. The term had been overwhelming. Between preparing for nationals and hiding her relationship with Brian, she hadn’t been sleeping much. Maybe her body just needed rest.
But when another week passed, and still—nothing—panic set in like a slow, creeping shadow.
Mercy barely spoke to her anymore. She had stopped waiting for Brenda after school and had even skipped the last debate practice without saying why.
Brenda missed her—more than she would admit.
But even if Mercy had been talking to her, what would she say?
“I think I’m pregnant.”
The words burned in her throat like fire she couldn’t spit out.
At school, everything felt heavier. Her uniform was tighter around the waist. Her energy dipped. She excused herself from PE with made-up stomach cramps. Her Literature teacher scolded her for “drifting” during a class discussion. Even Brenda’s once-proud handwriting was starting to curl with anxiety.
One afternoon, after school, she stood for over twenty minutes at the counter of a small pharmacy near the taxi park. She held a folded note in her hand that read:
Pregnancy Test. One strip. Urgent.
She had scribbled it that morning, too afraid to speak the words aloud.
The pharmacist—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes—read the note, then looked at Brenda, her face softening.
“No judgment,” she said gently, handing the small box in a brown paper bag. “Take it with the first urine in the morning. It’s more accurate.”
Brenda nodded, blinking fast to stop tears.
That night, she hid the test under her mattress and barely slept.
At 5:30 AM, with the house still dark, she crept into the bathroom.
The strip changed color within seconds.
Two lines. Bold. Clear. Undeniable.
Brenda stared at it in silence.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.
She just stood there, holding the truth in her trembling hands, feeling her whole world tilt.
Later that morning, she sat through class like a statue. The teacher’s voice echoed faintly in the background. Her pen never moved. Her fingers fidgeted with her collar.
After school, she walked home slowly, unsure of what she’d say if her father noticed the numbness on her face.
But he didn’t.
He was rushing to a parents’ meeting at his workplace. He patted her shoulder on his way out.
“You’ll cook tonight, yeah? And don’t forget to revise. I believe in you, my girl.”
Brenda nodded weakly.
That night, she stood in front of the mirror again.
The same face stared back.
But her body had become a battlefield. Her future—a fog.
And her secret?
It had just grown louder than anything she’d ever said on a debate stage.