The boy who called me “my love” on WhatsApp and “classmate” in the hallways.
The first time I told him I was pregnant, he turned pale.
He didn’t hug me.
He didn’t ask if I was scared.
He just looked around and pulled me behind the school cafeteria.
— Delete everything, he whispered.
— Everything what?
— The messages. The photos. The notes. Everything.
I felt my throat tighten.
— Mateo, it’s your baby.
His face changed.
He was no longer the boy who bought me snacks after school.
He was someone else.
Cold.
Calculating.
— Don’t say that out loud.
That afternoon, his mother came to my house.
Mrs. Rebeca Rivas.
Expensive heels.
Designer bag.
Strong perfume.
My mom welcomed her, thinking she came to talk like an adult.
She was wrong.
Mrs. Rebeca placed a yellow envelope on the table.
— Fifty thousand pesos, she said, for your daughter to change schools and stop making things up.
My mom didn’t touch the envelope.
My dad did.
Not to take it.
To throw it on the floor.
— My daughter is not for sale.
I wanted to cry with relief.
But Mrs. Rebeca smiled.
— Then get ready. Because my son is not going to take responsibility for a girl with no future.
No future.
That’s what she called me.
As if my baby were already a stain.
As if my belly were a public shame and not a life.
The next morning, my dad didn’t speak at breakfast.
My mom brushed my hair harder than usual.
When we arrived at school, I understood why.
There was a meeting.
The principal.
The counselor.
Mateo’s mother.
My parents.
And Mateo sitting in the back, uniform perfect, eyes dry.
I walked in trembling.
— Sit down, Valeria, the principal said.
I didn’t sit.
I couldn’t.
Mrs. Rebeca spoke first.
— My son is being falsely accused. This girl wants to ruin his reputation because he didn’t want to be her boyfriend.
My mom squeezed my hand.
— That’s not true.
Mateo lifted his head.
And destroyed me without touching me.
— I was never with her.
The room went silent.
I felt the ground split beneath me.
— Mateo…
— Don’t talk to me like that, he said, pretending disgust. We’re barely classmates.
My dad stood up.
— Look my daughter in the eyes and say that again.
Mateo did.
He looked at me.
And repeated:
— It’s not mine.
Something inside me broke.
It wasn’t my heart.
It was the last part of me that still believed bad people had limits.
The principal lowered her gaze to a red folder.
I didn’t know what was inside.
I GOT PREGNANT IN TENTH GRADE, BUT THE REAL SHOCK CAME AFTER THE SCHOOL CALLED MY PARENTS
