Sky's POV
Got it!! Let's stretch it out so it has both Sky's classic sarcasm and that surprising undercurrent of drama. I'll make it flow like a mini "episode" of their school life—funny, shocking, and kind of heartbreaking at the same time.
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Sky's POV
Third period. The holy hour.
The time where peasants suffer through boring lessons while I, a genius of survival, sneak off to my secret snack stash like a squirrel guarding treasure.
My legs carried me to the old janitor's closet behind Class 3-B—aka my sacred temple of Chocopie, spicy chips, and soda cans that I smuggled past the metal detector last semester. (Don't ask how. Ninja skills.)
"Ah, my crunchy, salty babies…" I whispered to the plastic bag taped behind a broken mop bucket. "Mama has returned."
I pulled it free like Indiana Jones uncovering treasure. I was this close to ripping open the bag when—
I froze.
Because the closet wasn't empty.
Across the room, curled up in the corner like a horror-movie extra, was BB.
BB. The human megaphone. The girl whose voice could out-scream the fire alarm. The one who once threatened to fight the math teacher because he called her handwriting "chicken scratch."
And she was… crying.
Not fake-dramatic "boo-hoo-I-broke-a-nail" crying. Real crying. Mascara running, shoulders trembling, hands gripping her stomach like she'd been stabbed in a K-drama.
"Uh…" I blinked, chip bag halfway to my face. "BB?"
Nothing. She didn't even look up.
Okay. Weird. Usually the mere sound of my voice makes her hiss "Shut up, frog girl!" or threaten to sue me for existing.
I inched closer, cautiously. Like she was a wild animal I might spook.
"Hey," I tried again. "What happened? Did someone steal your lip gloss? Did the vending machine eat your coins? Did your army of fake eyelashes finally collapse under their own weight—?"
She shook her head so hard her hair slapped her cheeks. And then, with a choked sob, she whispered:
"Sky… I… I'm pregnant."
…
…
Excuse me??
My brain short-circuited. I swear I heard Windows error noises in my head.
"Wait, wait, wait," I stammered, blinking at her. "Pregnant… like… pregnant pregnant? As in baby-on-the-way pregnant? Or like… I-ate-three-bowls-of-ramen-and-now-look-nine-months pregnant? Because if it's the second one, join the club, girl. I once gave birth to a food baby I named Lasagna—"
"I'm serious!!" BB's voice cracked as she clutched her stomach tighter, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I don't know what to do…"
And just like that… my dumb joke died in my throat.
This wasn't the BB I knew—the loud, bossy, terrifying queen bee. This was a BB that looked… small. Weak. Like a balloon that finally deflated.
For a second, I just sat there, stunned. My hands tightened around the chip bag, suddenly useless.
"…BB," I said softly. My voice came out weird—less frog, more… I don't know. Human. "I—uh—I don't know how to deal with crying people. Or pregnant people. Or crying pregnant people. But—uh—you're not alone, okay?"
She sniffled, not looking up. Her whole body shook like she was holding the world on her shoulders.
Awkwardly, I reached out and patted her shoulder. Which felt… wrong, because I had chip crumbs all over my fingers. But hey, it was the best I could do.
And sitting there, in that dusty old closet, I felt it—the weight of the secret she just dumped on me. Like suddenly we were in some tragic drama instead of stupid snack heist hour.
For once… I didn't want to laugh.
Perfect—let's build that scene with the mix of Sky's sarcasm, shock, and awkward empathy.
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Sky's POV
I sat there in the closet, chips forgotten in my lap, watching BB cry like she was auditioning for the lead role in Tragic High School Secrets: The Drama.
Her hands never left her stomach. Her nails dug into the fabric of her uniform like she was afraid if she let go, everything inside her would spill out.
And the thought hit me like a slap—
If she's actually pregnant… then…
"Okay…" I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual, even though my voice cracked like a middle school boy. "Sooo… um… question."
Her tear-filled eyes flicked up to me, and for once she didn't glare. She just looked… lost.
I shifted uncomfortably. "Who's the dad?"
Silence.
The only sound was BB's shaky breathing, echoing in the dusty closet. She pressed her forehead against her knees and sobbed harder, like the question itself stabbed her.
I blinked. "Oh. Okay. So we're doing the 'cry instead of answer' thing. Cool, cool. Love that."
She didn't even snap at me for being sarcastic. Which was how I knew this was serious. BB never lets me get away with frog jokes.
Her shoulders shook so violently I thought she'd break apart right there.
And me? I just sat there like an idiot, clutching my uneaten chips, realizing I might be the only person on Earth who knew this.
I wanted to crack another joke, lighten it up—something like 'Don't worry, if you need baby name ideas, I have a list starting with Potato.'
But the words stuck in my throat.
Because the way she cried… it wasn't just sadness. It was fear.
So instead, I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Hey… whoever it is… you don't have to tell me now. But… if you ever want to… I'll listen, okay?"
Her only answer was another choked sob.
And for the first time in forever… I didn't feel like mocking her. I just felt… scared for her
The silence in the closet was so thick I swear I could hear the dust motes moving.
BB's sobs shook the walls. She wasn't even trying to hide them anymore, and that was terrifying in itself. The BB I knew—the BB who screamed at people for looking at her eyeliner wrong—was gone. In her place was just… this broken, trembling girl clutching her stomach like it was the only thing keeping her alive.
And then it happened.
She leaned forward and suddenly… her arms wrapped around me.
Like—hugging me.
Me.
The girl she's called frog-voice, ugly, annoying, snack-goblin.
My brain short-circuited. Wait. Wait. BB is hugging me? This isn't in the script of our eternal enemies sitcom. Where's the camera crew? Where's the laugh track?!
But she didn't let go. Her body was shaking against mine, her tears soaking my uniform. And for the first time in forever, BB—loud, untouchable BB—actually needed someone.
My first instinct was to squirm out of it, crack some joke like "Whoa, slow down, I don't do free hugs, I charge snacks for these"—
But I didn't.
I just froze, staring at the wall, and then—very awkwardly—lifted my hand and patted her back. Once. Twice. Like I was petting a stray cat that might bite me any second.
But she clung tighter.
Her voice was muffled against my shoulder. "I don't know what to do…"
I swallowed hard, my sarcasm shriveling in my throat. Because… what the heck do you say when your class enemy cries into your shirt about being pregnant?
So I didn't say anything. I just let her hold on.
And the weirdest part?
I didn't hate it.
For once, we weren't enemies. We were just two girls in a dusty closet, stuck in a secret bigger than either of us.