Somebody Else's Pregnancy Test

I was always the type of child who felt compelled to rigidly follow the rules. I did not lie. I did not cheat. I became incredibly stressed out if I looked over my mom’s shoulder while she drove and saw that she was going a few miles above the speed limit. I had exceedingly strict parents, and was given extreme punishments, even for suspected infractions which never occurred anywhere outside of my mother’s mind.

My mother was mentally ill. She had a knack for making things more difficult for me than they needed to be, because I had a different father than my siblings, and she hated him. She held me to unattainable standards and there were very few things I would not do to avoid the consequences that came with failing to meet them.

When I reached thirteen years of age, I had earned the position of vice president in a volunteer program called G.A.R.D.E.N.S. We grew thousands of pounds of produce every summer and donated all of it to homeless shelters and poverty-stricken families. Our success earned myself and two other volunteers a trip to a conference in San Francisco to meet with other leaders of programs like ours from all over the United States.

My mother was not pleased with the idea of having me out of her sight for so long, but my stepfather convinced her to let me go because of how impressive it would be on college applications. She provided me with twenty dollars for the three-week trip and insisted that I return with a souvenir for her, my stepfather, and both of my younger siblings. I was so excited for the trip that I did not consider the financial logistics until three days in, when all the missed meals started to catch up with me.

I used some of the money I was provided to buy myself something to eat before all the volunteers went on a thirty-mile bike ride to go sightseeing.

We stopped at a gift shop near Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary. Walking into that gift shop was terrifying. Not because of the nature of Alcatraz, but because of how expensive everything was! I knew I would not be able to buy my family the souvenirs I had to bring home, and I began to genuinely panic thinking of the consequences of returning empty handed.

Out of fear of my mother, I used the rest of the money I had to buy a small cloth bag and started looking for things I could easily hide inside of it. There were cameras everywhere and multiple security guards posted inside the store, as well as at the entrance. I took four items for my family and walked out of the store without any trouble. It was not until I returned to the dorms that I realized what I had done. However, I had gotten away with it and it was so easy!

For the duration of the trip, I stole the food I needed but could not pay for and nothing more. I didn’t steal any toys or trinkets for myself. I decided that I would only take from chain stores like Wal Mart because I didn’t think I could hurt them by taking a single five dollar sandwich at a time. I figured it might be a real problem for a ‘mom and pop’ establishment to lose anything at all to theft, and that it was not fair of me to do that to a potentially struggling business. When the trip was over I had fulfilled my mother’s wishes and did not starve.

When school started after the summer, I told a few of my close friends about my newfound skill, but I decided to leave my criminal past behind me. It was exciting to be good at something that was so obviously against the rules of society, while still being able to justify it in my mind.

Kids tend to gossip so, a rumor was spread throughout the school that I was a master shoplifter. Eventually, a girl who was in the grade below me asked to speak in the privacy of the girls’ bathroom, and burst into tears as soon as we were alone.

“I think I’m pregnant and nobody will sell me a pregnancy test.” She said between sobs.

I was admittedly scandalized by what she was asking of me between the lines. I was older than her and couldn’t even imagine kissing a boy. My immature mind couldn’t help but judge her for being sexually active at twelve years old.

“Can’t you get an older friend to buy one for you? Do you have older siblings?” I asked.

“I don’t know anybody who is old enough and won’t tell my parents. My dad will kick me out and disown me if he finds out. I know we aren’t friends, but please help me. I don’t know what else to do.” She begged.

I couldn’t help but empathize with the fear she had of her parents. I attempted to imagine what would happen to me if I was in her situation and it felt like the world would end.

“I’ll do it, but don’t tell anybody.”

“Thank you so much!” She threw her arms around me and smiled through her tears.

“I will do it after school and bring the test to you tomorrow.”

I was not nervous when I walked from the cold, slushy, downtown sidewalk into the Walgreens halfway between the bus stop and my house. I had been there many times to pick milk up for my family, and I had come to fancy myself a professional shoplifter.

There was not a single security guard, the way there had been in San Francisco and only a single camera, which was up front by the register. I had never sought out a pregnancy test before but I had seen them in the pharmacy. They were next to the condoms that everybody I knew pretended not to see while walking by.

I made eye contact with a tall, intimidating woman with short blonde hair and got a less-than-friendly look from her. In hindsight, it should have made me nervous.

I stood in front of the pregnancy tests, overwhelmed by how many choices there were and how expensive they were. The boxes were rather large, too large to slip into my coat pocket.

I checked to see if anybody was looking at me and nonchalantly picked up the smallest box. I walked down an empty aisle and opened it as quietly as I could. The actual contents were very small. Probably half as wide as a deck of cards and much thinner. I tossed the box behind some cans on the shelf to my left and slipped the test into my pocket.

The very moment I did that, I heard a stern voice from about five feet behind me, “Miss, give me that pregnancy test and never come back to this store again.”

I turned around, startled, to see the unfriendly blonde woman glaring down at me. My cheeks flushed and my heart pounded deafeningly. My hand was still on the test in my pocket. I pulled it back out, placed it on the shelf by the cans and walked briskly out of the store without a word.

I took a roundabout way home. I was afraid somebody would follow to have me arrested and I didn’t want it to happen by my building where my mother might see. I was more embarrassed than I had ever been, or have been since. The idea that the woman, even though she was a stranger, thought I needed a pregnancy test was making my insides turn. It was well below freezing out but I felt overheated.

A few thoughts broke through my panic in quick succession. First, pregnancy tests should be available for purchase to anybody. Secondly, getting caught shoplifting was something I was never going to risk again. Lastly, I should have considered the fact that a teenage girl who was anywhere near the pregnancy tests at a store would stand out like blood on snow.