Oh Lord – the birthday party! It’s all coming back to me now. Even though I’d rather forget that evening. Not one of my better memories.

It was my cousin Refilwe who dragged me to this birthday party for some friend of hers, some chick called Abigail.

“She fancies you, Lexie,” Refilwe kept saying. “She’s seen you around and now she has a huge crush. I promised I’d bring you. So you have to, totally have to, come.”

Abigail.

With party music blaring behind her, Abigail met us at her front door, dressed in some bright red, sparkly thing. Not my dream-girl, believe me. OK, she was pretty and with a good figure. But looks aren’t everything. She was also loud, never shut up for a moment, kept laughing this hyena-type laugh. I swear she was like some radio talk-show on steroids.

And my cousin Refilwe abandoned me to this nightmare.

Abigail in her red dress was all over me from the moment I arrived. She kept dragging me onto the dance floor in the lounge, insisting I must dance with the birthday girl, like I was her private property or something. Then she dragged me off into the kitchen to share some private shots. Zambuka Gold, something like that.

Each time I tried to escape, she reeled me back, like some mad fisherwoman. I mean, I’m not used to girls like this. I like my chicks gentle, calm, peaceful.

“Be nice, Lexie,” this Abigail chick kept saying. “It’s my birthday and you’re my best present. So come on, just relax and enjoy. I promise I’ll unwrap you later.”

And let me tell you, the Zambuka shots weren’t helping. Nor was my cousin Refilwe. From the sidelines, Refilwe kept cheering Abigail on. “He really fancies you, I promise. He’s just shy. Shy and sensitive, you know?”

Like I say, not one of my favourite memories.

So what the hell does Abigail want with me now? Why is she phoning after all these weeks? I mean I never contacted her again after that awful night. In fact I did my best to forget the whole horrible experience. When Refilwe mentions her name, I change the subject. So why is she phoning me after all this time?

“Abigail … hi,” I say. Politely. “Hey, so whazzup?”

BK meanwhile is sitting on my bed, firing up my Xbox for our return match since I killed him so badly last time. But he stops at the sound of a girl’s name. Lifts his eyebrows like he’s asking: is this Abigail some hot new chick you’ve been hiding from me?

I shake my head at him. Pull a face to let him know, without doubt, this Abigail is no hot chick, definitely not! She’s not desirable on any level.

Abigail answers my question. “I’ll tell you whazzup, Lex. Whazzup is that I’m pregnant.”

There is a moment of silence that seems to go on forever while my mind feels like it is bungee-jumping through broken glass.

And then: “Pregnant?!” I scream out the word.

Luckily my mama isn’t home to hear and come rushing into my room. She’s at some PTA end-of-term function.

“Pregnant?” I scream a second time, my voice going high-pitched like I’m being strangled. Or like I’m still a thirteen-year-old boy.

Meanwhile BK has put down the Xbox paddle. He’s staring at me in amazement. And then he starts laughing. Misery loves company, isn’t that what they say?

“Dang! You poor, dumb idiot.” he says.

Meanwhile I am screeching into the phone. “That’s impossible! It can’t be. You’re frikken lying!” And the giant hand is tightening around my throat so I can barely breathe.

But Abigail has disconnected.

***

Tell us what you think: Why does Lex says it’s impossible that Abigail is pregnant?