Pregnant girl

Tough Spots- Pregnant Girl 

A blue-haired young woman is walking on Picadilly Street, London, and stops in front of a big wooden door. Kaye, seventeen, wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans and pushes the door of a photography studio, after a last look at the street, pretty busy on this late afternoon. She walks in and is snatched into a room full of young women running around, some of them out of breath, some crying of exhaustion. Dresses and shoes are flying around, while a speaker is playing Rihanna’s latest tune. The volume is up, but not enough to cover the voice of Kaye’s mother, yelling orders around without taking her eyes off of her smartphone. A gorgeous young woman is standing on a pedestal in the middle of the room. She is wearing a Haute Couture dress, and trying out some modelling postures in front of a photographer. Kaye’s mother doesn’t pay any attention to the model, whereas Kaye herself looks up to her with eyes filled with wonder, but quickly looks away when she looks back, blushing. With automatic gestures, Kaye walks towards a table in a corner, and picks up her lunch- a tuna mayo sandwich in a pink Dora the Explorer lunch box. She scowls. ‘I don’t even like tuna, for crying out loud...’ She turns around with a fed up look on her face, and looks for her mother in the room. When she finally spots her, her attitude melts and she looks anxious again. A woman in her thirties, passing by, stops next to her.
‘Hey lovely, what have you done to your hair now? And is that a new piercing in your ear? Soon you’ll have more holes than skin!’
‘Hi Pat. Yeah well, I’ll stop piercing myself when she decides to notice...’ Kaye answers with a look towards her mother.
‘Mh... You know, it’s a tough job, running a magazi-’
‘Not an excuse’ Kaye interrupts her ‘She’s never been there for me, she’s never cared. And now look where it leaves me.’
‘What? Where does it leave you? What’s wrong, sweet heart?’
‘I- look Pat, I need to tell-’ she’s interrupted by her mother scolding Patrica to get back to work. The assistant scampers off, and the young woman is alone again. She gazes at the assistants sobbing because of their boss’ harsh words, apprehensively.
'How are we going to tell her?’ she whispers, looking down at her belly while gently stroking the slighlty bulging bottom of it. Her mother finally notices she’s here, and she quickly stops and puts her hands back in her pockets.
‘Ah! Sweety, there you are. You’re late! How was your day?’ her mother asks without even slowing down.
‘It was... Great. Look, mum, I-’
‘If you’re great, then I’m great sweet heart! Although, not so great.’ she points at the model standing on the pedestal with a digusted face. ‘Look at her, she’s way too fat to make this dress look good. You’ll have to photoshop that out!’
Kaye looks at the young woman with an expression of both apology and admiration on her face, as the model doesn’t seem to be touched by the nasty remark. Her mother doesn’t stop to apologize, and keeps complaining while running around. She is now fixing a model’s hair.
‘And I still have to send all the invitations for the wedding this summer, and sort out the flowers! And you know what? I was called this morning to hear that a giant sculpture of your father and I was a crazy idea for an outside wedding in summer! I mean, who do they think-’
‘Step-father, mum please.’
‘Oh sweet-heart, please.... Anyway, is your friend Dan coming? He seemed charming.’
‘It’s Ben, mum, Ben. And no, he won’t come, he’s moving back to America in four weeks. And speaking of him-’
But her mother is barely paying attention to her.
‘That’s a shame, huney, I know you really liked him. but you know what, plenty of other fish in the sea!  Oh, and my dress, my dress, how am I going to do...'
'Yes, I liked him, but it’s not really the problem right now... Mum, look, about Ben and I, I need to tell you some-’ but her mother is running away, looking for something in the middle of a scandalous amount of shoes. She gets back up after a minute, holding a pair of black Louboutin. She hasn’t stopped mumbling to herself. 'My dress... Main problem... Size...’ she eventually realizes her daughter’s presence.
'Oh, Kaye! You’re still here, good, good. Look sweetheart, we’ll speak tonight at home, all right? This stupid model just sprained her ankle, I need to sort that out. Oh and my dress, my dress...’
Kaye rolls her eyes, looking incensed.
'What? Mum, you keep repeating that, what is wrong with your dress? You’re going to wear a Thierry Mugler dress specially designed for you, how can there be a problem with that?’ She looks really angry with her mother’s attitude.
'Yes, yes, I know, the problem is that he designed it for a size ten!’
'So? You are  a size ten, and they can always touch it up!’
'Yes, yes they can, if I only gain a few pounds, but...’ she is now turning her head away, like a kid who knows she’s done something bad. She receives a text and starts tapping on her phone instead of finishing her sentence.
'But what, mum? Your diet in summer is only made of carrot sticks and tequila, how would you suddenly take three si-’ she stops, and looks at her mother, in shock. ‘Wait, are you...’
Her mother gives her a contrite smile.
'Surpriiise... You’re getting a new baby brother!’.