Okay, so the first time I saw one of the episodes with Ron's baby sister, I was like, 'Wait a minute…they have a kid now?!"…and obviously, it turned out they didn't. HOWEVER, I thought it was a great idea, so…hence, my fic.

Obviously I don't have a problem with teenage pregnancy. I attend a school where, at any given time, at least 3 girls are pregnant. This is in a school of about less than 1,000 people. Most of these girls aren't even Kim's age which is 17 in this fic. Therefore, Hanna doesn't exist. Ron is 17 too, for future reference.

This is my jump back into fanfic writing, which I took a considerable break from. I'm sort of back now, so…here goes. Sorry it's a little…break-y in this chapter, just go with it.

…

Kim stared at the piece of plastic with complete disbelief. Two lines? She consulted with the guidebook once again, even though she already knew what it meant. Two lines.

I'm pregnant.

She turned around to face the mirror, wiping some unexpected tears from her cheeks. "I'm pregnant. Okay." The thought didn't seem to sink in. "Okay. This is not bad. I've dealt with worse things than this." Like that time in Drakken's lair when…no, no. How about when Dementor almost…

"Okay," Kim said aloud again, "This is officially bad."

…

Kim had decided exactly five minutes and 36 seconds ago that panicking was not an option. She could deal with it. It's okay…it's okay…it's okay…

"Monique?"

"Yeah, Kim?" Monique's voice was slightly hurried. Kim knew she was at work, probably stocking up on the latest Club Banana fall line. That would have to wait.

"I need you to come over. I have something—"

"Kim, I've gotta' stack all these—"

"Monique…" Breathe, breathe, breathe, "I'm pregnant. I need you right now."

Kim waited as a sharp gasp of breath was drawn on the other end. "For real?"

Kim nodded before catching herself. "I just took a test." Her voice started to quake, "Monique, I—"

"I'll be right there, Kim. Don't worry." Click.

Worrying, however, was something else that Kim had decided, no—forced herself to do. She knew it would take Monique at least 15 minutes to get to her house from work, so she decided to find something to take her mind off of—well, the thing that was inevitably looming over her mind.

Glad that her parents weren't home, Kim shuffled around the kitchen, and finally found a recipe for cookies. She glanced at the recipe warily, remembering her last cooking disaster. She glanced at the clock—14 minutes was way too much time to avoid thinking about it. Cookies it was.

…

Kim almost plowed the door down in her attempt to greet Monique. As she threw her arms around her, Monique was surprised to find that Kim wasn't even crying—in fact, she looked like she had just applied a new coat of eyeliner and mascara. Monique held her at arm's length, and saw Kim's poor job of covering her red and splotchy face with cover-up.

"Girl, you don't have to hide it." She said as she closed the door behind her, "You can cry if you want."

Kim reached behind her onto the table, and all but threw a plate of cookies into Monique's lap.

"Here," she said dismissively, "I just made them." She plopped herself down onto the couch and buried her head into her knees. "God, Monique…what am I going to do?"

Monique sat down beside her, and took her hand. "Does Ron know?"

"You're the only person that knows," Kim sighed, running her hands through her hair. "How am I ever going to tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Ron asked, bounding through the doorway. He reached over Monique to grab a cookie. "You make these, Kim? Nice job!"

As he retreated to the kitchen to the kitchen to rummage through the Possible's refrigerator, Kim finally let the panic sink in.

Shit.