Teen pregnancy

　　A thick, awkward silence ensues after he drops the unsolicited statistics and the air crackles with suspense. Mum stops eating and Ben’s hand slips from my knee. Daddy doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care at this point because he takes another bite of his meal and nods in approval. Why is he like this?

　　Sweat breaks out on Ben’s forehead even with the air filtering in through the tall windows. I try to hold his hand under the table but he tucks it between his legs. Daddy holds up his fork as if he remembers something he forgot to add, I start shaking my head. At this rate, Ben will never set foot here again.

　　“Teen pregnancy is quite high in the US.”

　　Ben is a statue by my side. Rigid and unmoving. I am more or less the same. The food in my mouth loses its taste and I grip the edge of the table.

　　Through gritted teeth and a fake smile plastered on my lips, I manage to say, “Daddy.”

　　He feigns innocence, his eyes wide with mischief. I grip the edge of the table. “What?”