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“Who’s that cute little girl?” Carla asked her roommate, Monique, who was busy placing on the wall at her side of the room a huge black-and-white photo.

“That’s my goddaughter,” Monique answered with wide-eyed admiration as she finished arranging the picture.

“She’s some cutie!” Carla said, moving closer for a better look.

The two seventeen-year-olds had just moved into the dorm they would be sharing for the next eight weeks. They were attending a summer church camp at Jersey State College.

“You know,” Carla raised her voice to say, “your goddaughter looks something like you!”

“You think so?” Monique responded, moving away from the picture.

“Uh-huh. Especially around the eyes.”

“Maybe,” Monique mumbled, walking over to her trunk to finish unpacking. She was trying hard to follow her mother’s advice that she keep her business to herself, but she found it no easy task.

Already this girl can tell that the picture’s the spitting image of me, she mused. So how am I supposed to try to fool anybody here? The one person I ought to be able to level with is my roomie!

“Why you looking so serious?” Carla asked, noticing the strange expression that had come over Monique’s face.

“I was just thinking,” she replied.

“You’re not getting homesick for New York City already?” Carla asked, cuddling one of the stuffed animals on her bed.

“Anything but!” Monique was quick to say. “Church camp’s about the last place I cared to spend my summer. But since it meant getting out from under my mother’s thumb, I was down for it. My mother’s stricter than the pope.”

“Mine is strict, too,” Carla noted. “ ’Course, she says it’s for my own good—which I guess she’s right about, considering all the girls around my way who’ve gotten into trouble.”

“Listen!” Monique said, walking to her bed to sit now. “There’s something I think I should tell you before you go any further. Just promise me that you won’t go blabbing.”

“Blabbing what?”

“That little girl on the wall isn’t my goddaughter. She’s my baby.”

“Your baby?”

“Yes,” Monique confessed.

“So why didn’t you just say so from the git-go?”

“Like, it was my mother’s idea,” Monique explained. “You know how church people can be sometimes.”

“Do I?” Carla chanted, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

“My mother said that she didn’t want people here looking down their noses at me,” Monique continued.

“Oh, forget that!” Carla waved a hand of dismissal. “There’s nothing so special about anybody at this place. Just a bunch of boring people from between here and New York City. This your first time coming?” she asked.

Monique answered that it was.

“Well you’re lucky!” Carla intoned. “I’ve been coming here off and on since I was twelve and dying through every summer of it! ‘Course, it’s better here now than it used to be. At least they let us have dances. Not that you ever meet anybody worth writing home about. There are some okeydokey guys from this one church in Jersey City. They’re all right, except for one or two who dance like somebody on American Bandstand.”

“I didn’t come here with great expectations!” Monique informed her. “Not when our preacher was the one who recommended coming here in the first place! But as I said—even this beats being home locked in the house. I never get out!”

“Well, you must have gotten out at least one time!” Carla cracked, her eyes dead on the picture.

“Yeah, well …” Monique uttered, smiling along with her, then pausing before adding, “That’s not funny, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Carla responded, “but I couldn’t resist it! So who’s keeping your baby? First, what’s her name?”

“Maya. My grandmother, who lives with us, watches her most o’ the time. Between going from my mother’s arms to my father’s to my grandmother’s, Maya doesn’t know what it is to sit on her own li’l rump!”

“So how old were you when you had her?”

“Sixteen on the dot! She was born on my birthday!”

“Almost like something somebody planned!” suggested Carla.

“But for sure this wasn’t!” Monique declared. “I didn’t plan to have a baby, period. And I sure didn’t plan to have one on my birthday.”

“Maya’s a nice name,” Carla said warmly.

“I named her that after Maya Angelou, the poet. That’s my hobby—reading poetry, which I get a lot o’ time to do, cooped up in the house unable to go anywhere.”

“I see.” Carla nodded, her eyes switching back and forth from the picture to Monique. A baby? she was thinking to herself. A mother. Lord, I’m sure glad it’s not me. “So tell me more about it,” she implored, folding her legs beneath her body, to get more comfortable.

“It’s a long story,” Monique began, “and kind of sad.”

“What teenager having a baby isn’t?” Carla snapped, wishing almost immediately that she could take the words back. For no sooner had she spoken than it occurred to her that she really hadn’t known Monique long enough to be throwing her two cents’ worth out on something so personal. She studied her roommate’s expression for a moment, trying to see if indeed she’d rubbed the girl the wrong way. But Monique didn’t appear fazed as she rattled on.

“After two or three months I knew that I had to definitely be expecting. In spite of praying night after night that I wasn’t, I was crazy scared! And so was the guy I was going with. We’ve broken up now, and—”

“What happened?”

“My baby’s father and I still halfway talk. But we broke up before I even had Maya. We disagreed about what to do. See, he was for. And I was against.”

“I’m confused,” said Carla. “He wanted you to have it. And you did. So why aren’t you all together?”

“If you let me finish, I’ll get to everything!” Monique responded with a bit of irritation. “I knew that I needed money to do what I had to. At least two hundred dollars! That is, if I was going to one of the nicer places I’d checked out. A few places were cheaper—but I didn’t want to go to just any rinky-dink place! And I knew that the only time that I would be coming into that kind o’ money would be at my sweet sixteenth birthday party. I was confident of getting close to five hundred for my birthday. So I figured I’d just have to hold off until then.”

“Wait a minute! Weren’t you worried about getting pregnanter and pregnanter? If I can make up such a word!” Carla cracked.

“Yeah. It was stupid on my part,” Monique acknowledged. “But all I was thinking of at the time was that I didn’t have any two hundred dollars! And my birthday party was the only time I would be getting that much at once. So I just had to wait!”

“You said you expected five hundred dollars?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s a whooole lotta bread!” gasped Carla.

“Normally I wouldn’t get anywhere close to that for my birthday,” she clarified. “But see, it was my sweet sixteenth—something my family’s big on. We have these huge family celebrations. Everybody comes—cousins, aunts, and uncles. And the girl who’s turning sixteen wears a special dress and is announced to the family members.”

“Sounds sorta like a debutante thing,” Carla suggested.

“Yeah, it is. Not quite as prissy, though—but very similar—the major difference being that instead of greeting high society it’s only your lowly family,” Monique kidded along.

Turning serious again, she said, “My parents were anxious for my birthday to come. Because having had to lay out money for so many of my cousins, they were ready to recoup! I was anxious, too, but clearly for a different reason. All I wanted was to get my hands on the money so I could get everything over with! I was tired of trying to sneak by my mother, my father, plus my grandmother without them paying too much attention to me. When we went to pick out my party dress, I’m sure my grandmother was kind of thinking something was up from the way she kept staring at me. My mother—I don’t think she was ever suspicious. My father—definitely not! Come to think of it, he was probably glad that I was putting on weight, ’cause he never liked seeing me so skinny. And believe me, I had put it on! Trying like a dope—”

“To wait for your birthday!” Carla cut in, finishing Monique’s sentence. Chuckling, she asked, “Didn’t you ever stop to think that the longer you waited, the more dangerous it would be?”

“How was I to know?” she answered nonchalantly. “This never happened to me before!”

“Me, neither!” Carla was prompted to say. “Still, I know that the sooner the better, with what you were planning!”

“If I had been getting more allowance than a cheesy twenty-five dollars a week, maybe I could have done what I needed to earlier!” Monique complained.

“Twenty-five dollars a week?” exclaimed Carla. “Girl, that’s more than double what I get!”

“Well, I don’t know how you survive!” quipped Monique. “Then on the other hand, you aren’t in the Apple.”

“Oh, New York’s not that much different from Jersey,” Carla protested. “New York people are always acting like Jersey’s the country. But just as much goes on here.”

“Maybe,” Monique conceded. “Anyhow—the day of my party finally came. I’d chosen something nice and loose—a kind of tent dress. And everything was all set. My mother and grandmother had cooked some of everything you could think of: fried chicken, curried goat, peas and rice, greens, yams. You name it—we had it! My father had decorated the basement. And one of my cousins had hooked up the music and was deejaying.”

“So at what point did you change your mind about having the baby?”

“If you’d just wait and let me finish! Less than two hours after my party kicked off, I had more cash than I needed!”

“Lucky you!” chimed Carla.

“So I thought!” Monique countered. “But then midway through my party, I started feeling sick. I figured I was tired from all the excitement, and that if I could just sit at my throne for a while—”

“Throne?”

“Oh, yeah! I left out that part. The party person has this special chair, a crown, the whole works!”

“Oh, gross!” Carla squealed.

“I know,” Monique said between laughs, “it’s corny. But at least every girl in my family gets her chance to be royalty for a day. We don’t have to go through this stage of life never once being made to feel special! Like happens to a lot of girls.”

“You’ve got a point.”

“I thought I’d feel better as I sat there, but I kept getting worse. Smelling a thousand different scents from all the food wasn’t helping the situation. I was getting sicker and sicker. So I whispered to Verna that I had to go lie down for a few minutes.”

“Who is Verna?”

“My number-one homegirl. Other than my baby’s father, she’s the only person who knew everything that was up with me at the time. She had come to my party prepared to spend the night. And the two of us planned to skip school the next day for me to do what I had to.

“So anyhow—after I started feeling so bad, I told Verna to go in the kitchen and tell my mother that I had a stomachache and had gone upstairs for a while. My plan was to come back to the festivities, but I never made it. I’m not sure just when the crowd thinned out, because I’m way up on the third floor of my house, just beneath the attic. It’s a brownstone like the one on Cosby.”

“Mmmmph, I’m impressed,” Carla signified.

“Believe me. We’re way from having Cosby money, honey,” Monique sang out. “We just live in a similar house.”

“I’m still impressed. Sharing a room with one person at summer camp is the most privacy I get all year. I’m stuck in a room with my two younger sisters!”

“I always had the peace of my own room,” Monique stated. “Up until Maya came. Her crib’s in there now. ’Course, she’s in the room with my grandmother more than with me.”

“You’re jumping from the story again,” said Carla.

“Oh, yeah—well, to get back. After I was upstairs in my room awhile, my mother came to check on me. I told her I didn’t feel any better. She said I should try to go to sleep. When I asked if Verna could still stay, she frowned. Thinking quickly, I moaned how company would make me concentrate less on how bad I was feeling. My mother went along and told Verna to come on up. I had the hardest time getting her out my room, though!”

“Verna?”

“No! My mother. She finally left when I told her that I’d have Verna get her if I got worse. I had no such intentions, however. Soon as my mother split, I began tossing and turning all over the place! Verna was holding tightly on to one of my sweaty hands, while I clutched a pillow with the other, trying to muffle my groans. Oh, it hurt so bad!”

“Like bad cramps?” Carla interjected. “I know how that is because I get bad cramps.”

“But nothing like what I went through,” she declared. “Girrrl, I hate to scare you …”

“No. Tell me,” Carla insisted.

“I can’t even describe how awful it was! It was like—like—maybe lightning would feel ripping through your stomach! Then suddenly I feel this dampness—”

“Your water broke?”

“You do know all about it, don’t you?” Monique registered surprise.

“What happens before a baby comes?” Carla hissed in reply. “Sure I know! Didn’t you?”

“Not that part! But Verna did, thank goodness.”

“Looord!” Carla groaned. “You obviously hadn’t counted up your time right either, had you?”

“They said Maya was early. She had to be put in an incubator—”

“Slow down!” Carla ordered, determined to get every detail. “There has to be more before you get to that part.”

“I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for Verna,” Monique continued.

“You mean your friend sat there and didn’t call your mother?”

“She tried to, but I kept begging her not to and holding her back.”

“Whaaat?”

“Yeah. And then the baby started coming.”

“Oh, I would have died!” cried Carla.

“I believe I would have too if I had been in Verna’s place. But she hung tough. Cut the cord—”

“Cleaned the baby up and everything?” Carla asked, her eyes stretching wider and wider.

“Yeah. Did it all!” Monique recalled. “Then she had the nerve to go downstairs and ask my mother if she could have a little warm milk and water.”

“What? She did what?” Carla leaned forward to make sure she was hearing correctly.

“Verna said we couldn’t just let the baby starve all night. We’d decided we would take her to the hospital the next morning and say that we found her.”

“That was real dumb!” Carla said without hesitation. “How wack can you get?” she fired boldly. “What a stupid idea!”

“I know,” Monique accepted with embarrassment. “At least now I do. But I was desperate and couldn’t think of anything better. And neither could Verna.”

“For starters, you should have sent for your mother!” Carla said pointedly.

“Yeah, well—”

“How did you feed a baby without a bottle?”

“Verna just gave her little drops at a time. And we wrapped her in some towels.”

“And then?”

“Verna told me to try to sleep a few minutes. I was so tired.”

“I’m glad you didn’t try anything like leaving the child somewhere mysteriously!” Carla said authoritatively.

“Girl, what kind of person do you think I am?” Monique shot back. “I was raised better than to do something that low.”

“Yeah, well, having the baby in your room wasn’t exactly highbrow,” chided Carla. “You risked her life!”

“I don’t need you reminding me,” Monique said sadly. “I simply didn’t know any better at the time. And Verna? She went along for my sake. I do have a conscience, though, and I could never have done anything crazy like you hear about on the news. Never! My plan was to get up early the next morning and take Maya to St. Luke’s for adoption.”

“Maaaaan!” Carla uttered, still shaking her head in disbelief over all she was hearing. The blood. The gore! How could they have gone through with it? “Weren’t you and your friend worried about the baby crying out in the night?” she asked.

“I told you, I’m way upstairs. Still, Verna said she slept with one eye open.”

“All I can say is that’s one lucky little girl to have survived such an ordeal!” Carla surmised.

“It’s like my grandmother said later,” Monique shared. “Somebody upstairs was watching over.”

“Wooord,” Carla said in agreement, looking as pitifully at the photo as if it were alive.

“Thanks goodness everything turned out all right,” Monique sighed wearily.

“Sure is. Because the two of you could have ended up in big trouble!” Carla mentioned.

“True. My mother explained that there’s a law—”

“Endangering a baby at birth!” Carla blurted out.

“Another thing I wasn’t aware of at the time!” Monique admitted. Then lowering her voice, she chanted, “My poor little baby. What I put her through! She almost didn’t make it. I hate to even think about what I did,” she ended tearfully, making Carla regret having come down on her so harshly.

“Don’t cry,” Carla said, leaping up to comfort her.

“I’m okay,” Monique managed to get out between tears. “It’s just hard when I think back,” she said, still weeping softly as Carla stroked her shoulder. “I’ve talked to our minister about everything. And he tells me I’m forgiven. But I still feel so—so guilty sometimes!”

“Try to let it go,” Carla suggested.

“I do,” she said, “but it keeps haunting me. Letting Maya suffer like I did. We took her out of the house in a big shopping bag.”

“A shopping bag?” gasped Carla.

“Yeah. At first I thought of my backpack, but I had to make sure she could breathe.”

“And all the while she never cried out?”

“She whimpered a little—bless her heart.” Monique shook her head as she remembered. “Poor thing was probably too weak.”

“And what about you?” Carla questioned. “Weren’t you about to drop?”

“I was. But I knew what I had to do. So the two of us eased on out the door with Maya and headed over to St. Luke’s. It’s close to where I live. When we got there, we walked up to the receptionist desk and said that we found the baby on our way to school.”

“Thinking it was gonna be over just like that, huh?” said Carla.

“Yes! But they began to ask question after question. I got all confused and nervous, and before long, I passed out right there on the floor!”

“It’s no wonder!” cried Carla.

“When I awoke, I was in a hospital bed. And it didn’t take long for them to put two and two together. I have to give Verna credit though. Homegirl stuck with my story. They didn’t get a thing out of her. I was the one who had to tell them the truth!”

“Then what?”

“They called my folks. My father didn’t go too crazy. But my mother? Maaaan!”

“I can just imagine,” said Carla.

“She was going to let me go ahead and give Maya up for adoption like I wanted to, even though my father had some reservations. But then my friend Verna gets to school and tells Robert everything.”

“Who?”

“Rob. My baby’s father. And this was all he needed. His wish had come true: I had given birth to his baby! Which he goes flying around the whole neighborhood spreading! There was no way to go through with the adoption then. My mother said that people would have talked badly, not only about me but about her and my father if we gave the baby away after that.”

“Sounds like your mother worries a lot about what other people think.”

“She does,” Monique concurred. “Too much! But beyond her concern about what the neighbors would say, Rob had come to the hospital acting like the baby was his already!”

“Well, she was, wasn’t she?” Carla chuckled.

“Yeah. But I mean his-his! Like, his to take home! He was all worked up, claiming he would take care of her on his own if necessary.”

“So because of this, and your mother’s pride, you changed your mind about keeping her?”

“Well, actually, I had started getting attached to her myself. She was such a pretty baby.”

“Still is,” whispered Carla.

“I know,” Monique said shamelessly, beaming now at her child’s photo.

“Seems like you and the father ought to be able to work it all out now that she’s here and everything,” Carla suggested.

“Maybe someday,” she responded. “But not right now. I just need to concentrate on getting myself out of high school. And I hope Robbie continues to do the same. I don’t know about him, but I really haven’t got much choice, the way my mother stays on my case. I can hardly breathe.”

“You make her sound so cold,” Carla commented.

“I guess I do exaggerate a little,” Monique half-heartedly admitted. “I suppose my mother’s no worse than anybody’s mother whose daughter has a baby. She worries that it can happen to me twice. But there’s no way!”

“So a lot of girls say!” Carla chimed. “Still, it be’s that way sometimes.”

“Well it won’t beeeez happenin’ here!” Monique declared.

“I guess not, since you claim you’re such a prisoner!”

“Yeah. I do whine a lot,” Monique fully confessed now. “But deep down I realize that I’m blessed to have the family I’ve got—one willing to take over raising my baby while I finish growing up.”

“Because it’s not that way for the average girl in your situation,” Carla wasted no time saying.

“Wooord,” Monique agreed. “There’re few happy endings for a girl in trouble.”

“I still can’t get over it happening on your birthday!”

“Yeah,” Monique ended, her head dropped slightly. “My sweet sixteenth.”