When the 2 p.m. bus came to its screeching halt in Juana's neighborhood in Río Cañas to discard some passengers, I climbed down the small staircase into the still air made sweltering hot by the relentless Costa Rican sun. Rickety cars whizzed by as I trudged through the tall grass along the main road, slapping the ravishing mosquitoes that made the skin on my ankles feel like Braille text. Then I veered off onto the narrow dirt path that led to Juana's house, passing the flattened corpse of one of the frogs that normally fill the night air with croaking.

Slumped on the bed like a sack of pudding, Juana offered a breast that spilled from her sagging pajamas to her new son, who sucked noisily. Surrounding her was an ogling crowd that crammed into the bedroom, which was about as spacious as a U-Haul, to congratulate her on a job well done.

Juana hardly seemed to notice the onlookers. Indeed, although her tired brown eyes were fixed on the baby at her breast, she hardly seemed to notice him, either. Her unblinking gaze bore through her baby, past the sweating, smiling audience and beyond the walls of the gray, cement-block house, to a place that intrigued her and worried her. That place was her future.

From her maternity bed the day before, Juana said she hoped to make a speedy recovery from an eight-day hospitalization that nearly ended in a Caesarian section. But, still drained from the wallop of pain that childbirth delivered, she scrapped that hope, resigning herself to another few days' absence from school.

The Freshman

Juana started ninth grade last February at the public high school in the nearby town of Santa Cruz. By June, missed periods and a stomach that became round and hard like a melon worried Juana, and she ordered an ultrasound test that revealed that she was four months pregnant.

In Santa Cruz, which is situated in northwest Costa Rica in the Guanacaste region, nobody bats an eye at pregnant schoolgirls whose plaid Catholic-school uniforms are stretched out by swollen stomachs. In fact, teenage pregnancy is becoming so commonplace that one in four babies born in Santa Cruz have teenage mothers, much to the disappointment of parents, teachers and civic leaders. According to the regional ministry of health, 177 of the 750 births registered by the city this year were to adolescent girls who resist the morality-laden lessons of abstinence, but avoid using birth control for fear of dropping hints of what they do when parents aren't looking.

The surging incidence of teenage pregnancy has attracted the attention of the federal government, and in April 1999, the Office of the First Lady launched "Constructing Opportunities," a program designed to educate teenagers about safe sex. While the program aims to prevent teenage pregnancy, its impact remains to be seen in Santa Cruz.

'S' is for Sex ... and for Shame

When Juana announced her pregnancy, it was the first time she'd admitted her sexuality to her parents. Before, sex was a hushed topic, and Juana's mom only warned her daughter that "if" she ever started to have sex, she'd better not get pregnant.

The news of the pregnancy stunned them, and her father, who'd long been divorced from her mother, disowned Juana for her shameful behavior. Unable to support another child on a single woman's salary, Juana's mother sent her only daughter across the barrio to live with her boyfriend, Luis Carlos Jaén Piña, who is 16.

Luis Carlos was absent from Juana and the baby's homecoming. His mother Marjorie said that he was in El Salvador competing in his high school soccer tournament. Marjorie's four sisters chirped about Luis Carlos' soccer heroics and one of them fled the room, to return later with a heavily fingerprinted photo of the high school star in action.

Luis Carlos called from payphones whenever possible, though, to check on his new baby like a nervous bettor calling his bookie. When Marjorie told him I was there, he solemnly instructed her to prevent me from kidnapping his son and smuggling him into America.

Marjorie leaned over Juana, inspecting the baby for traits of her oldest son. Each discovery sent her pride soaring.

"Look! See, he's got a hole in his cheek, just like Luis Carlos," she said, pointing at the dimple that formed when the baby pursed his delicate lips.

Two of Juana's high school friends, Kimberly Peña Bonilla and Juri Parrales, came to visit the tiny baby, plopping on the bed with a bounce that made Juana wince with pain. The girls cooed about the baby and squealed with excitement to Juana about how happy she must be. Juana forced her lips into a feeble smile but stayed silent.

When the house quieted and guests began to trickle out, I started on my way. Marjorie walked me out, all smiles. She asked me if I had a child.

I said no.

She asked me how old I was.

I said I was 26.

"Oh," she said, a bit startled, but then she recovered. "Well. It's better to wait. But sometimes people make mistakes."