We slowly walk towards a bench in the walkway of the shopping centre. Ava bends over before we reach it, pressing a hand on her lower back and releasing a strained sound like she’s in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I grab her arm to stabilise her.
“Nothing,” she heaves. “Just a sharp pain.”
“You sure?” I ask wearily.
Ava nods, but her eyes glass over with discomfort. “Yeah, I think—” She pauses briefly. “Oh, no.”
“What?” I cry out, feeling completely useless.
She pulls up her dress slightly, and my eyes move down to her legs, now dripping with fluid. I gulp at the sight, frozen in place. Her worried eyes look up at me as she shakes my arm.
“D-did your water just break?” I ask breathlessly.
“Yeah,” she whimpers.
Then she clamps down onto my arm again and releases a low groan.
“What is happening?” I murmur pathetically. “Ava, I don–”
Is she going into labour now?
What does broken water mean?
Does she need to start pushing?
Hell, I knownothingabout pregnancy.
“Oh my God,” I say, although I’m panicking.
“I need to go h-home,” she huffs.
“Oh my God,” I blubber again.
A group of people begin to crowd round and ask if everything is okay. We somehow move her to the bench as I stare between all of them with an open mouth.
“I got it,” a middle-aged woman tells me as she raises her phone to her ear. “Just be there for her.”
“No ambulance.” Ava waves a hand. “I-I need to go home.”
“You’re about to give birth. Of course you need an ambulance.”
“Oh my God,” I exhale for the third time.
“I’m the one having a baby, Kayleigh,” Ava says through gritted teeth. “Pull yourself together.”
I suck in a deep breath and nod. “Got it.”
Ava cries out again and squeezes my hand. “Ah, fuck,” she hisses.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I whisper. “The ambulance will be here soon.”
My voice is shaky despite trying my hardest to keep calm, which I am not even a fraction of. My best friend is about to have a baby. Holy shit. This is happening.
“Do you feel like you need to push?” the same woman asks.
Ava shakes her head. “It hurts so much,” she strains.