Free Pregnant Pause by Han Nolan Page A

have food for comfort, I wouldn't have anything," he adds, and everybody agrees.
    They're supposed to talk about these weight issues during the morning "Health and Well-Being" sessions in the main cabin, but they prefer just talking outside on the porch while they're knitting, and where it's informal. Oh, and there are boys in these knitting classes, too. Just because they like to knit doesn't mean they're gay—another surprise.
    I love to watch some of the older boys who think they're too cool or too tough to knit hanging around the crafts hut pretending they're just talking to the guys, or flirting with the girls, but really they're watching the knitting with this kind of hungry longing in their eyes that cracks me up, because I can see it. I can step back and see right through these kids. For all my life I've been just another one of those kids, and I could see through nothing, but now all of a sudden, maybe because of this baby, or because I have to act like an authority of some kind, I'm allowed to take that step back and just observe, and it's a hoot; it really is. And somehow, because of this ability I've got of being able to read these kids, I like them. I feel like I understand them a little, and that's a blast. It makes me think that maybe, if we do keep the baby, I wouldn't be such a crappy mother after all.
    I'm supposed to help Haley the second week of camp, but after breakfast, Monday of that second week, the MIL and FIL ask to see me.
    I talk to them at their dining hall table after the campers have left.
    "We have a problem," the FIL begins.
    "Well, I didn't do it," I say automatically. I run through my mind all the things I've done lately, and I try to figure out what I may have done that has got the two ILs looking so miserable. Except for leaving the cabin in the middle of the night without my bathrobe on a few hundred times, and swearing on occasion, I've been pretty decent.
    The MIL waves her hand and gives me this irritated look. "Haley isn't feeling well. Her stomach is upset, and we have no one to teach the dance class except you. Do you feel up to teaching the class on your own?"
    "Well, I didn't poison her or anything, if that's what you're thinking. I didn't do anything." This is so wild because I sort of imagined a scenario like this, where for some reason I get to teach the dance class but I don't teach ballet; I teach the kids all of my wacky fun stuff, but now it's for real, and I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll get blamed for making Haley sick, and even more scared that I'll actually have to teach the class. Daydreaming about teaching the class is one thing, but actually teaching it is another.
    "No, of course not," the MIL says. "We wouldn't ask for your help, except there isn't anyone else. We're short a couple of counselors this summer as it is, and we can't afford to lose any of our waterfront counselors, so it's you or nobody."
    Gee, thanks for all the love.
    The FIL puts his hand on mine. "We need you for this, Eleanor."
    Well, that's a new one. They need me. I love it. It's straight out of some movie. The hated girl comes to the rescue in the end and saves the day, and everybody loves her and she lives happily ever after. Yeah, I could live with that.
    "Sure. Sure, I'll teach the class. Don't worry about it."
    Both of the ILs look relieved, and the MIL actually thanks me and almost, just almost, smiles at me.
    So my knees are a-knockin' when I get to the dance hut. The room is large and square, and there are those bar things attached to the walls, where you're supposed to hang on and do
plies,
and one wall is covered by a huge mirror. The first thing I notice in the mirror, besides my big belly and a zit on my chin, is that I've got Ashley Wilson and Banner Sorensen in my dance class, and then I see all the other kids, all those wide eyes staring at me, and all those legs in pink tights and ballet slippers. I can't teach ballet! My knees get to knocking even more. I turn away and think