If Shame Had a Locker Number

11 Weeks LaterFebruary 28th; 2007Taylor Swift's Point of ViewI've been doing my absolute best to hide this pregnancy from everyone at school. Baggy sweatshirts. Strategic bathroom runs. Head down, keep walking. Not a single soul was supposed to know.

But of course, Travis had to be a dumbass. I know he didn't mean to screw it all up. He didn't think it would turn into a full-blown disaster. He told his friend — one friend — because he "just needed to tell someone." And Travis, in all his teenage wisdom, actually thought that guy would keep his mouth shut.

Spoiler: he didn't.

He told someone. Then that someone told someone else. And now? Now everyone knows.

"I bet her music career wasn't working, so she decided to baby trap the star football player," Tracy said last week loud enough for the whole damn cafeteria to hear.

Now everyone calls me Baby Trapper.

Like it's my name. Like it's funny. Like I planned for my life to derail before it even started.

I grab my English textbook from my locker and swing my backpack over my shoulder, already counting down the hours until I can crawl back into bed.

"We have an appointment with the OB after school, right?" Travis asks, appearing beside me like a very tall, very annoying shadow.

"Yeah," I sigh. "Heading there right after."

"You feeling okay today?" he continues. "I checked out one of the biology books about pregnancy from the library."

He flips open the book and proudly points to a dog-eared page like he's just discovered the secret to life. "It says the baby is the size of a banana now."

"Cool..." I mutter, already regretting all my life choices.

He's still going. "Also, are you feeling alright because apparently you can get all these wild symptoms at this stage. Like, nosebleeds, bloating, vaginal—"

"Can we not talk about this in the school hallways?" I snap, glancing around to make sure no one just heard the word "vaginal" come out of my boyfriend's mouth in public.

He looks genuinely confused. "But it's in the book."

"Yeah, and I'm in high school, not a gynecologist's office."

He closes the book and shrugs. "Okay, but if your nose randomly explodes or something, I'm just saying—I warned you."

"So now we know the real reason you skipped out on Homecoming." A voice cuts through the noise of the hallway. I look up from my locker just in time to see Amber—with her glossy lips and too-perfect ponytail—sauntering toward me like she owns the damn school.

I sigh. "I skipped because I had to deal with my album release."

She raises her eyebrows like I just told her aliens abducted me. "Mmm, sure. That's not what Kendall said."

Here we go.

"According to Kendall, it was so you could baby trap Travis under the school bleachers."

My stomach turns, but I clench my jaw and straighten up. "Can people stop making rumors that aren't true?"

Amber shrugs, casually leaning on the locker next to mine like she has all the time in the world to drag me. "I don't know, Tay. You're seventeen and pregnant by the star of the football team. People are gonna talk."

I slam my locker shut harder than I meant to. "And you're giving them something to talk about."

She smiles sweetly, that fake kind that makes your skin crawl. "I'm just repeating what everyone already thinks."

I clutch my bag tighter, resisting the urge to tell her exactly where to shove it. "Well, everyone can go to hell."

I start walking toward class, keeping my head low, trying to ignore the whispers that crawl down the hall behind me. Just make it to the door. Just get to class. That's all I have to do.

Then it happens. A shoulder slams into mine, jarring me off balance and knocking my bag halfway off.

"Watch it, slut," the girl mutters without even stopping. Her friends laugh, too loud, like they want everyone to hear.

I stagger a bit, my hand shooting out to catch myself on the lockers. I feel more shock than pain, but my face goes hot instantly. And my throat tightens. Before I can even recover, I hear the unmistakable voice behind me.

"What the hell did you just say?" Travis's footsteps are already closing the space between them.

The girl freezes and slowly turns around, clearly not expecting him to have seen. "Relax, I was just kidding—"

"You think that's funny?" His voice is sharp, louder than it needs to be. People stop. Heads turn. "You think harassing my girlfriend and our baby is some kind of joke?"

My heart lurches. God. The way he said that. "Our baby."

"Travis," I mumble, tugging at his arm. "It's not worth it."

But he's not backing down. "No. Actually, it is worth it. I'm sick of you all acting like she did something wrong. She's showing up, doing her work, minding her business, and you're all too damn bored with your lives to leave her alone!"

The girl scoffs. "Whatever. It's not my fault she couldn't keep her legs—"

"Say it again," he growls, voice low, shaking. "I dare you."

"She's a slut, Travis. You deserve better."

Before Travis can respond, a guy cuts in, sliding between them. He's shorter but broader than Travis, cocky, with one arm slung possessively around Amber's shoulders.

"Woah, woah. What's happening here?"

Travis's eyes narrow. "Your bitch of a girl can't keep her mouth shut."

The hallway goes deathly still.

Amber's boyfriend straightens up. "You need to chill, man. Maybe your girl should've kept her legs closed."

Something in Travis snaps. He lunges forward and shoves the guy hard—shoulder to chest—sending him stumbling back into the lockers. Students scream. Someone's phone clatters to the floor. Amber shrieks and ducks away.

"You want to talk about her? Say it to my face!" Travis yells.

The guy charges back, swinging wildly. Travis ducks the first hit, then tackles him, fists flying. They crash to the floor, punching, grappling, dragging each other across tile.

Teachers come running.

"HEY! HEY! BREAK IT UP!"

Hands grab at Travis. A whistle blows. The crowd closes in and someone yells, "They're fighting over the pregnant girl!"

~

Travis sits outside the principal's office, his knuckles raw and bleeding. One is already starting to swell. His chest rises and falls in uneven bursts, the adrenaline still pumping. A teacher stands near him, arms crossed, watching like he's about to bolt.

The office door opens. "Taylor Swift?" the secretary calls.

I step inside, hugging my backpack tight against my belly. The nurse gave me an ice pack after someone accidentally elbowed me in the crowd. My stomach still hurts—not badly, just enough to remind me how not in control I am of anything.

Travis's eyes meet mine briefly. His jaw clenches.

"Inside. Both of you," the principal says, sharp and tired. Mr. Abrams. He shuts the door behind us and gestures for us to sit.

Travis lowers himself into the chair, his leg bouncing. I sit beside him but lean away slightly, nerves buzzing under my skin.

Mr. Abrams sighs and sits behind his desk, folding his hands. "Do either of you want to explain what the hell just happened?"

"She called Taylor a slut," Travis mutters, eyes locked forward.

"And so you tackled someone in the hallway."

"I shoved him," Travis says. "After his girlfriend said some disgusting shit about my girlfriend and our kid."

Mr. Abrams exhales and turns to me. "Taylor?"

"I didn't do anything," I say quietly. "I was just trying to get to class. And then people started saying things and—"

"They've been saying things," Travis cuts in, bitter. "Since she started showing. Since someone told the whole school."

I don't say anything. Because it's true.

Mr. Abrams leans back in his chair. "Look. I get that you're under a lot of stress. But violence is not acceptable. Period. You're both high-profile students—Swift, you have a record deal. Travis, you're being scouted. This is not the kind of attention you want."

"What are we supposed to do?" Travis asks, finally looking up. "Let them harass her? Talk about our kid like they're a mistake?"

Silence.

"I don't want to suspend you," Mr. Abrams says finally. "But I have to. Three days. You'll both go home today—Taylor, for medical precaution. Travis, for fighting. After that, we'll have a meeting with your parents. All of them."

"What about Amber and Carter?" Travis asks, his voice low but tense.

Mr. Abrams doesn't look up immediately. When he does, his eyes are sharp. "I'm talking to them too."

Travis leans forward, fists clenched on his knees. "Are they getting suspended?"

The principal's gaze hardens. "That's not important right now."

"What do you mean it's not important? Are you saying they aren't?" Travis's voice edges toward disbelief.

"They're not, Travis. If they were, he would have told us yes," I mutter.

Travis's jaw tightens, eyes flashing with frustration and anger. He stares down at his hands, then back at Mr. Abrams. The unfairness of it all hangs heavy in the room.

"Go home. Rest. Cool off," Mr. Abrams says, motioning toward the door like the conversation is over.

Neither of us says anything right away. Travis runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight, and I let out a long breath through my nose. The weight of everything presses down—school, the stares, the rumors, the baby, and now this.

We both stand slowly, chairs scraping the floor. My backpack feels heavier than it did this morning.

"Come on," Travis says gently, stepping beside me. "I'll drive you home."

He offers his hand, and I take it without thinking. His fingers wrap around mine—warm, steady. The same hands that clenched into fists earlier, now holding me like I'm something breakable.

"You sure?" I ask quietly, eyes still on the ground.

"I'm sure," he says, his voice softer now. "Let's get out of here."

We leave the office in silence, our footsteps echoing down the hallway that just hours ago felt like a battlefield.

The car is quiet.

Travis has the radio on low, but it's mostly static between stations. I don't bother asking him to turn it off. I just stare out the window, counting the cracks in the sidewalk and trying not to cry for the third time today.

I know he's trying. I know he wants to be the good guy, the supportive boyfriend, the person who steps up when everyone else is tearing me down. But sometimes even when he's doing everything right it just makes it worse. Because I don't want any of this. Not really.

He clears his throat. "Do you want to find out the gender when we go to the doctor today?"

I shrug, my voice flat. "Uh...sure. Whatever you want."

"I mean, I want to," he says carefully, glancing at me, "but it should be your decision too. I want us both to agree."

"I don't care, Travis. Okay?!" My voice cracks as I whip my head toward him. "I don't care if it's a boy or a girl or an alien with seven legs. I. Don't. Care."

His hands tighten around the steering wheel. "I'm not trying to be that guy," he says, trying to keep his voice even, "but you're halfway through this. We're going to be parents in a few months. And you seem like you don't care about anything. Not the baby. Not me. Not yourself."

I stare at him, stunned for a second. Then I look back out the window, hot tears gathering in my eyes.

"Maybe I don't care! Maybe I can't care, because I didn't ask for any of this and if I let myself want it, if I let myself love it, and if something goes wrong what the hell am I supposed to do with that?!"

My breath hitches, my hands curling into fists on top of my backpack. "You still get to be the golden boy. You still get to have a future. I'm the one who's screwed. I'm the one who's gonna be the girl who threw her life away for a mistake."

Travis's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his jaw working, but he doesn't interrupt.

"I can't walk through the halls without hearing someone whisper about how I 'baby-trapped' you. I can't even go to my locker without someone calling me a slut or pushing me around like I'm nothing. And you know what? I started to believe them, Travis."

My voice breaks, quieter now, more bitter than angry. "Maybe they're right. Maybe I am the girl who ruined everything."

Travis pulls the car over and puts it in park, his voice firm but calm. "You didn't ruin anything, Tay." He looks at me, really looks at me. "This baby... it isn't a mistake. It's a good thing. And the people saying otherwise? They're just jealous."

I scoff and look away. "Jealous of what exactly?" My voice is brittle, worn down.

He doesn't hesitate. "A six-album record deal for one." His tone softens, a small smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "You're insanely talented, Taylor. Creative, smart, beautiful..." He nudges me gently with his elbow. "And, I mean, come on you've got a super handsome boyfriend."

Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, I think that's been established." He grins, and for a second, the weight in my chest doesn't feel quite so crushing.

Then, just as the tension starts to melt away, I freeze. A flutter. Not nerves. Not anxiety. Something softer. A gentle thump, low in my stomach like the wings of butterflies brushing against me from the inside.

I press a hand to my belly, eyes wide. "The baby..." I whisper, a small smile forming before I can stop it. "The baby is kicking."

Travis immediately leans in, eyes searching mine. "Really?"

I nod slowly, still in awe. "It's like... it knows we needed something good right now."

"Can I feel?" Travis asks, eyes soft with hope.

"Sure." I take his hand and guide it to where I felt the movement. We sit there in silence for a few moments, but his face starts to fall.

"I-uh... I don't feel anything."

My smile falters. "Oh."

"It's probably too early," he says quickly, trying to reassure me. "I read in the book that other people usually can't feel it until later. Like twenty-something weeks." He gently moves his hand back to his lap.

I glance over at him, warmth creeping into my chest despite everything. "You've been reading a lot. I don't think I've ever seen you finish a book in your life."

He shrugs, looking embarrassed. "I just... I want the baby to be safe and okay. I want to be good at this."

I reach for his hand and thread my fingers through his. "You're trying. That's already more than most people would do." I glance out the car window, then back at him. "You know, I bet we could just head to the OB from here. Maybe we can get in a little early."

Travis smiles and squeezes my hand. "Yeah. Let's go.

We had to wait a bit but Travis stayed close, keeping one hand over mine the whole time. He whispered things to calm me down—how everything was going to be alright, how he wasn't going anywhere, how we were going to get through this together. I didn't say much, but I leaned into his shoulder and let him do the talking.

When my name was finally called, we stood up together. The doctor greeted us and brought us into the room. She asked a few questions—about how I'd been feeling, if I'd been taking the prenatal vitamins, if I'd experienced any unusual symptoms. I answered quietly, letting Travis fill in some gaps.

She did the standard stuff: took my weight, checked my blood pressure, listened to my heart. Then she smiled and said, "You're gaining weight exactly how you should be. Everything looks great."

Now we're waiting for the tech to come in. The lights are dimmed slightly, and there's a low hum from the machine in the corner.

"I know you said you don't care," Travis says, tapping his foot, "but like... what about a gender reveal party?"

"No fancy gender reveal," I mutter. "I just want to do it here."

He shifts in the plastic chair. "Your mom said—"

"I know what my mom said." I cut him off, sharper than I mean to. "She wants a party if we find out the gender. But this isn't her baby."

Travis raises his hands in surrender. "Alright. I just thought maybe it could be fun. Or a distraction."

I sigh, my hand resting on the curve of my belly. "Everything about this is already so public. I just want one part of it to be... ours."

"Okay." He reaches for my hand, gentle again. "Ours it is."

"I can't believe you didn't know what the pull-out method is," I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hey!" Travis puts his hands up in mock defense. "They're making us retake health class! I'm very well informed now, thank you very much. I paid... very good attention."

I snort. "So did I! The first time!"

He smirks. "Well, I was a little distracted the first time. You were in the front row. That's not my fault."

I roll my eyes, trying not to smile. "It is your fault. And now I'm pregnant because you didn't know basic sex ed."

"Okay, okay," he says, laughing. "Let's blame the school system."

"Oh, I do...and Jason."

"You know what they said... sometimes it doesn't even work. It's like, not that effective anyway. So I totally could've gotten you pregnant anyway," Travis says, like he's trying to make a point but also backpedaling at the same time.

I blink at him. "Do you hear yourself right now?"

His mouth opens like he's about to double down, then he wisely closes it. "I'm gonna shut up," he mutters.

"Good call."

The door opens and a woman in scrubs walks in holding a clipboard.

"Taylor?"

"Hi." I lift my hand in a small wave, already nervous.

She smiles kindly. "I'm Jenny, the ultrasound tech. Looks like we haven't met before."

I shake my head. "No, last time it was someone else."

She glances at the chart, then back at me. "I see you're a minor. Will you be joined by a parent or guardian today?"

I shift a little on the table. "No... our parents had to work."

Her eyes flick to Travis, sitting beside me. She just nods, professional but soft. "Okay. We'll still go ahead. Let's take a look at baby. I see you're 20 weeks along so we'll be doing a full anatomy scan. That means I'll be checking your baby's organs, bones, and growth, so it might take a little while."

"Okay," I say, suddenly aware of the weight in my chest. Travis shifts beside me, resting his arm on the back of the chair.

Jenny glances between us. "Did you want to find out the baby's sex today, if we can see it?"

"Yeah. No party or anything," I mutter. "Just... here is fine."

Travis nods. "Definitely. We've been waiting for this."

Jenny rolls over the machine and pulls the monitor closer. "Alright, I'm going to lift your shirt and put some gel on. It's cold—sorry in advance."

She wasn't kidding. The second the gel hits my skin, I flinch. "Why is that stuff always freezing?"

Jenny laughs. "I wish I knew."

She places the wand against my stomach and the image starts to flicker on the screen. My breath catches a little when I see the blurry outline moving. I hadn't felt much before today. Not really. It didn't feel real until now.

"Okay," Jenny says, focused, "there's baby's head. We'll get the measurements of that first."

Travis leans forward. "Is that the face?"

"Sort of—you're seeing the top of the skull. I'll get a good profile in a minute."

I glance down at my stomach, already rounder than I want it to be. "It's so big already..."

"That's normal," Jenny reassures me. "You're measuring exactly on track."

Travis grabs my hand and gives it a small squeeze. "See? She said everything's good."

Jenny moves the wand again. "Spine looks great. And here's the heart—four chambers, beating at 145 beats per minute. Right where we want it."

I didn't realize how tightly I was holding my breath until I finally let it go. "Good..."

"Here are the kidneys, stomach, bladder... everything's where it should be. Fluid looks healthy. Placenta's in a good spot too—not too low."

Travis whistles under his breath. "You're checking all that just from this?"

Jenny nods. "Ultrasound is amazing. Okay—let's see if baby wants to cooperate with us."

She moves the wand lower and tilts her head. A moment passes before she says, "Looks like... you're having a little girl."

My chest pulls tight. I blink once. "A girl?"

Travis laughs—like, actually laughs. "A girl..."

Jenny keeps typing something into the machine. "She's perfect. I'll print you a few photos to take home."

I press my hand gently to the curve of my belly. "Thanks. For real."

Jenny smiles at me. "You're doing great, Taylor."

Jenny wipes off my stomach with a rag, the gel sticking cold and tacky to my skin even after. I tug my shirt down quickly, still not used to how snug everything fits now.

"I'll get these printed for you," she says, pressing a few buttons on the screen. "You'll have some 2D images, and I included a profile shot where she was sucking her thumb. Super cute."

"She was?" Travis asks, leaning closer to the monitor like he could still see it there.

Jenny smiles. "Yep. Active little thing. It's all a good sign."

She pulls the images from the machine and clips them together. "The doctor will go over the full report in a bit, but everything looks healthy. No concerns at all."

"Thank you," I say, my voice soft.

She nods. "Take care of yourself, okay? Get some rest today if you can."

When she leaves, Travis is already flipping through the pictures like it's the best thing he's ever held. "Look at this," he says, showing me the one with the thumb in her mouth. "She's already got a personality. She's probably dramatic like you."

"Excuse me?" I raise an eyebrow.

"You heard me."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the small smile tugging at my mouth. "You're so annoying."

"I'm gonna frame one of these. Put it in my locker." He holds the photo up, like he's imagining exactly where it'll go.

I tilt my head against the wall and exhale slowly. I didn't want to care. I really didn't. But now there's this tiny fluttering baby with a tiny face and a heartbeat I heard with my own ears.

"She's real," I whisper.

Travis looks at me. "Yeah. She is."

For a second, everything else fades. The names people call me in the halls, the way I keep tugging at my sweatshirt to hide how much my body's changed, the stuff my mom keeps texting me about doctor bills and 'responsibility.' None of it matters right now.

"Come on," he says gently. "Let's get you something to eat before we go home. Baby girl deserves a milkshake."

I snort. "You just want one."

"True. But it sounds better if I blame it on her."

—————Author's Note:

Next chapter is pretty funny hehe