“Can you …” began Gab under her breath. But then she stopped and waves of hot tingles flashed through her.

“Pardon?” asked Freya.

“Doesn’t matter,” mumbled Gab. They sat in a medical clinic waiting room in Burwood. This was the practice where Freya’s mum, Saanvi, worked. Freya had come with Gab for moral support—and partly so that Gab didn’t get lost or pike. Now Gab was waiting to go in for her appointment and fear took shape like bony fingers sitting ominously around her neck. What if something is really wrong? she thought. What if I’m anorexic? Or what if I’ve picked up some weird parasite from the foods I’ve eaten? What if I’ve got cancer? Life had been flat and colourless for weeks. She had been vomiting every day and couldn’t stand the sight of food. What if my stupid weirdo life is catching up with me? What if Mum was right and I should have stayed home? The thoughts were lead heavy, landing with a weight that shot her up high into the ether, disconnected from everything around her.

“Gabrielle Lander?”

A petite woman with black plaited hair streaked grey called Gab’s name with a smile. Gab recognised the smile at once. She stood up. Then she turned back to Freya and said breathlessly,

“Can-you-come-in-with-me-please?”

“Of course,” said Freya, not missing a beat. She had wanted to offer but didn’t want to intrude, especially when Gab was already so self-conscious.

Dr. Saanvi Ashwanti led the girls to a small room at the end of the passageway.

“Come in, girls,” she motioned, with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head. Something about her was dignified, Gab thought. Having Freya come in with a ragamuffin misfit didn’t seem to rattle her in the least; at least, Gab felt like a ragamuffin misfit.

“Sit down, please,” motioned Saanvi, as the girls entered the consultation room. “I’m Saanvi. What can I do for you, Gabrielle?”

Gab looked down at her fingers and played with the rip in her jeans. “I haven’t been feeling well,” she said after a moment, and she felt seven years old and completely stupid.

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear,” said Saanvi, and Gab had heard that tone of voice before too. “What are your symptoms? What is bothering you?”

“Um … I feel nauseous a lot. Mostly in the mornings, and I don’t want to get out of bed. And I … I can’t be bothered with anything. It’s been like this for about a month.” She feared the consequences of admitting this. Would they send her to hospital? “Do you think I have depression?” she burst out suddenly, and for the first time, she looked up to meet the doctor’s gaze. “My mum does,” Gab continued quickly, “she’s had it for years, I think. Maybe I’ve got it too.”

“There are genetic factors involved in depression, of course,” said Dr. Saanvi slowly, “but there’s generally a lot more to it than that. You said you have been feeling nauseous? Is that your main complaint?”

“Um, yes I think so,” said Gab. “But maybe it’s anxiety. I’ve read that anxiety can cause nausea. Can anxiety make you vomit?”

“Have you been vomiting, too?” asked Saanvi gently.

Gab nodded. “What about anorexia?” she whispered. “I’ve been losing weight.” She subconsciously pinched her belly between her fingers. Saanvi could see the profuse anxiety, but she wasn’t sure it was the whole story.

“Gabrielle, would it be alright if I gave you a check-up? I’d like to look at a few things, like your eyes and ears, and check your heartbeat.”

“Um, okay,” agreed Gab nervously. “What do I have to do?”

“You just relax, dear. First, let me check your eyes.” After checking Gab’s furtive eyes, more to distract Gab from her nervous train of thought than anything, Saanvi checked her throat, her lungs and heartbeat, and her blood pressure. Gab was still fidgety, nervy, but the initial dysphoria was wearing off. Saanvi sat down to her computer.

“When was your last checkup, Gabrielle?” she asked.

Gab shrugged. “Maybe when I was six?” she guessed. Freya’s eyes widened.

“That’s a while, dear,” said Saanvi stoically. “Have you been in good health?”

Gab shrugged again. “I guess so. I mean, I never think about it.” Then she added, “My mum goes to the doctor a lot. But I’m not like her.” Saanvi typed a few more notes and then turned to Gab.

“Gabrielle,” she said softly, “you said you’ve felt nauseous and you’ve been vomiting. You haven’t wanted to get out of bed. And you said you ‘can’t be bothered’. Do you mean, you’ve been feeling tired? Lacking energy?”

“Yes,” said Gab, “that’s right. So tired, Dr. Saanvi! I’ve been napping in the day and falling asleep in class.”

Saanvi nodded.

“Anything else? Have your periods been normal?”

Gab frowned and looked at Freya instinctively. Again, she shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t really keep track.” Something in her mind ticked over, even as she fought to stop it. And Freya knew then. She had thought of it earlier but had figured, and hoped, it was way too unlikely.

“Gabrielle, I’m going to ask you a very personal question, and I’m sorry if it feels intrusive. It will help me to help you as best I can, okay?”

Gab shrugged … again … and nodded. Saanvi proceeded.

“Gabrielle, do you think there’s any chance you might be pregnant? Have you engaged in unprotected sex lately?”

Suddenly, Gab didn’t feel anything. She was numb. She was watching the scene from outside her own body, as if the story wasn’t her own, and she heard Dr. Saanvi’s voice as if in echoes. She didn’t answer.

“I think the best thing,” said Saanvi carefully, after a moment, “is for me to send you for a blood test, Gabrielle. That will help us figure out what is going on.”

Gab nodded mechanically. Saanvi printed out the slip, and just like that, Gab tumbled around a bend in the road that she never, not in a million years, would have guessed was coming.