Inga had not stopped talking the whole ride home. The two of them had shared an Uber last night, which had dropped Ntokoza off at home first. Inga wouldn’t stop questioning Ntokoza the entire way home.

“What was that for? Did something happen?” she pressed on, earnestly. “Lwazi and I were cooking up a storm! There had better have been a good reason for this interruption, and the physics test does not count!”

Ntokoza guessed Inga was only half joking. Ntokoza had got such a shock seeing Thandiwe, she didn’t even know how to begin to tell Inga about their encounter. Every time she tried to begin answering one of Inga’s questions she felt her face get hot, and her stomach began to feel similar to last Christmas when she ate three massive slices of her mother’s infamous chocolate cake. By the time the Uber got to Ntokoza’s house, Inga must have asked at least 10 000 questions.

“I’ll tell you at school on Monday,” Ntokoza had mumbled hurriedly, before stumbling out of the car and wobbling up to her front door. Thankfully she had bought a jacket to the party. Just as she had finished doing up the final button, her father opened the front door.

“I thought I heard you,” he said, gruffly, “come inside, it’s cold out there.”

“Toko, is that you?” she heard her mom yelling from inside the house.

“Hi Mama, it’s me,” she replied, as she stepped inside, her father closing the door behind them.

As she took off her shoes and placed them neatly by the door, she watched her father walk past her into the kitchen off to the right of the hallway. Her father was not a man of many words, but her mother certainly said enough for the both of them. As Ntokoza walked into the kitchen herself, she spotted her mother sitting at the kitchen table with a book while her father washed the dishes for the day.

Ntokoza was always struck by how beautiful her mother was. Despite the fine lines beginning to appear on her forehead, and the calluses and scars on her mother’s hands, she always understood why her grandmother used to say that she could have gone to America and become a model. Her mother, however, had always dreamed of going to university to become an engineer. That was before she fell pregnant with Ntokoza. Her parents were 19 at the time and her mother had had to abandon her dreams of studying to prepare to become a mother. After a hasty marriage, her father had also had to drop out of studying for his law degree to start earning money to support the two of them as they prepared for Ntokoza’s birth. Today, her father worked as a plumber and her mother worked as a nursing assistant in a retirement home.

“How was the party?” her mother asked.

“It was alright,” replied Ntokoza,

“Are you on top of your studying?” her mother continued. “You know how important these marks are for your university application. Matric is an important year.”

“Yes, Mama, I know.”

Her mother stood up and walked over to Ntokoza. “Your father and I have big dreams for you,” she said, putting her hands on Ntokoza’s shoulders, “we have worked hard our whole lives to provide you with the opportunities we never had. Now is not the time to be distracted by parties and boyfriends.”

Ntokoza put her arms around her mother. “I’ve always been proud of you and Dad,” she replied, embracing her mother. “Not having a university degree does not mean a person is automatically not successful.”

Her mother gently squeezed her back. “I know,” she said, “but I want more for you.”

Her father grunted in agreement from the sink.

Her mother held Ntokoza at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “Why don’t you go get some sleep? You’ll need it for this weekend to prepare for all your assignments.”

The morning following Jeremy’s party, Ntokoza woke up wondering if everything had been a dream. Did I really see Thandiwe last night? she thought to herself, as she sat up in bed. As she stood up and reached for her phone charging on her bedside table, she saw a number of messages from Inga. Before she put her phone back down to go and shower, a new message popped up at the top of her screen.

“What does Inga not understand as about me saying I will tell her on Monday,” Ntokoza grumbled to herself.

When she looked at her phone again, her heart skipped a beat. It was a message from Thandiwe.

Tell us: What would you do if you knew someone who got pregnant as a teenager? How would you support them? What advice would you give?