Ghosted: The Little Prankster (Part II)

Ghosted: The Little Prankster (Part II)
 “Alright, alright, settle down,” Molly said. “Yes, there’s a baby in there. I know it’s a bit of a shock.”

“Did the FedEx man deliver it?”

“The FedEx man?”

“Yeah, I overheard my dad telling my Uncle Ray that he and Mom were getting a divorce because the FedEx man delivered a baby to the no good, philandering, whor–”

“No, it wasn’t the FedEx man!” she yelled. She placed her hand on her chest. “And don’t tell anyone else that story, okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Covington.”

“Good. Also, remind me to have a little chat with your father. Now, how about we get the lesson started?”

After a few minutes of ogling her and whispering, Molly’s students were finally able to pay attention. Dismissing them for the day, she exhaled.

That wasn’t too bad, at least I didn’t bomb with them the way I bombed with Tiffany.

She couldn’t blame her best friend; she would have thought she was insane if the roles were reversed. “I guess I’m going to my ultrasound alone,” she murmured.

“Oh, no I’m definitely going with you,” Tiffany said as she stood in the doorway. “No matter how nutty you are, you’re still the bestie and I want to support you anyway I can.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Plus, if Robert is the father, you’re going to need all the help you can get. From the way you described him, the man can hardly put one foot in front of the other without tripping. I definitely can’t wait to see how he is during your pregnancy.”

“Hey,” Molly said, half-laughing, half-crying. “That’s not funny.”

Tiffany grinned as she flopped into a desk chair. “It’s hilarious. You, of all people, accidentally knocked up by Mr. Trip-and-Fall himself? This is karma.”

“It’s not karma. It’s a disaster.”

“Well, disasters make the best stories.” Tiffany leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Someday your kid will ask how they came into the world, and you’ll get to tell them about how their father's face-planted on the sidewalk right after he kissed you.”

Molly groaned. “You’re not helping.”

“Sure I am. You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

“Barely.”

The end-of-day quiet pressed in around them. Molly picked up an eraser and spun it between her fingers. Tiffany noticed a lump forming in her throat.

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Molly whispered. “I didn’t plan this. I don’t even know what Robert wants, or if he even…” She trailed off.

“If he even what?”

“If he even likes me. Like, the real me.”

“Ohhh,” Tiffany said, dragging it out. “So, it’s not just the baby.”

Molly scowled. “Can you not?”

“What? It’s my job to point out that you’re swooning over a man who probably once got his tie stuck in a revolving door.”

“He did not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—”Molly paused—“shut up.”

Laughing. Tiffany gathered her things. “Knowing you, you would think it was cute.”

Molly didn’t answer, causing Tiffany’s smirk to soften. “Look, if you like him, tell him. If you don’t, then figure it out. But either way, you’re not alone. Got it?”

Molly swallowed hard. “Got it.”

“Good. Now, when’s the ultrasound?”

“Tomorrow morning. Nine-thirty. I’m surprised they got in me in so early, but the doctor seemed really eager to see me when I called.”

“Well, that’s a good start. Tomorrow. I’ll bring snacks.”

Molly laughed. “It’s not a picnic, Tiff.”

“It is for me.”



The Next Morning

The clinic smelled of antiseptic and weak coffee. Molly clutched the clipboard of paperwork like a lifeline while Tiffany hummed off-key beside her.

“These waiting rooms are depressing,” Tiffany muttered. “They should at least have music. Or cake.”

Molly elbowed her. “You’re making me more nervous.”

“I’m making you less nervous. Admit it.”

Before Molly could argue, a nurse called her name.

The exam room was cold. Molly lay back on the table, Tiffany perched in the chair, whispering encouragement. When the technician spread gel across Molly’s stomach and pressed the wand down, Molly’s breath caught.

“There we go,” the tech murmured. “There’s the baby.”

The grainy image resolved on the screen.

A tiny flicker.

A heartbeat.

“Oh my God,” Molly whispered.

“Wow,” Tiffany breathed. “That’s actually… a baby.”

Relief flooded Molly, tears blurring her vision. For all the chaos of the last few weeks, this moment was grounding. Her baby. Robert’s baby. She felt her chest tighten at the thought of him—his clumsy smile, the way he tried so hard, the way he made her feel seen even in his absence.

“Strong heartbeat,” the technician confirmed, smiling. “Healthy. Perfect.”

Molly exhaled, shaky with gratitude.

Then the machine beeped. The smile faded from the tech’s face. She adjusted the probe, her brow furrowing.

“What?” Molly asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” the tech said a little too quickly. “Just… unusual.”

Tiffany straightened. “Unusual how?”

The woman hesitated, as though searching for words. “Well, we already know that cases like yours are already unusual to start, but this is even more so.

Molly gripped Tiffany’s hand. “What do you mean ‘cases like this’?” Tiffan asked.

The technician gave her a measured look, professional but oddly careful. “Sometimes, when a child is conceived between a… living mother and a father who isn’t entirely of this world, the readings don’t behave normally.”

Molly’s stomach turned to ice. Tiffany’s mouth fell open. “Wait, you believe her insane story.”

The technician smiled small. “Absolutely. I’ve worked with Dr. Brown on enough of these cases to know that it’s very real.”

“Then why is my case more unusual?” Molly interjected.

“Well…typically in cases like this, children do not present powers until they are older, if they have powers at all. And your baby looks strong. But—look here.” She gestured to the screen. “It doesn’t want to be photographed.”

“What do you mean, doesn’t want to—”

The image blinked out. One moment the baby was there, curled like a comma. Next, the screen was empty.

Molly gasped. “Where did it go?”

The technician frowned, moving the wand across her stomach in slow, sweeping motions. “Hold on. It’s still there. We just need a clearer angle.”

But every time she located the baby, the image shimmered and vanished again, like a shadow slipping out of sight.

“Okay,” the tech muttered. “Come on now, don’t be difficult.” She chased the flicker back and forth across the monitor, her calm professionalism cracking. “Hold still… there you are… oh! And now you’re gone again.”

Tiffany snorted despite herself. “Is she seriously playing hide-and-seek with your uterus?”

“Not helping,” Molly hissed, though her lips twitched.

The baby flickered onto the screen again, then darted out of view. The technician groaned. “It’s like trying to catch a firefly. You really are a little prankster, aren’t you?”

Finally, Molly rolled her eyes, her nerves snapping into exasperation. “Stop that before I tell your father.”

The words slipped out unbidden, sharp with a kind of maternal authority she hadn’t known she had.

Instantly, the baby reappeared. Clear, solid, undeniable.

The room fell silent.

Tiffany’s jaw dropped. The technician froze, eyes wide.

Molly stared at the screen; her own breath stuck in her throat.

The tiny figure stretched, curled its fist—and stayed put.

Neither woman spoke. Tiffany finally leaned close, her voice hoarse.

“Did… did your baby just listen to you?”

Molly’s lips trembled, her heart hammering against her ribs.

On the monitor, the baby’s form flickered once—like a knowing wink.