a/n: the keeper gang is older! sophie is... err... around 16? 17?

also all these chapters are gonna be pretty short ❤

SOPHIE BLEW OUT AN ANXIOUS BREATH AS SHE PACED AROUND HER ROOM, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat. She dug through laundry baskets on clothes -dirty or clean, it didn't matter which - and folded a select few outfits, trying to pass the wait. It seemed like a never-ending stretch into the oblivion.

She got tired of that at some point and began to look and search throughout her backpack. She found random sketches, a couple of her long-lost silver pencils, some Prattles pins and wrappers, and so on with random items.

She dashed to her iPod, becoming impatient. She clicked the power button, jolting the screen to life and popping up her lock screen, clad with a groupie of her and her friends all making the weirdest, yet most adorable faces possible.

Sophie had been about to look at the time when she gasped at sudden wetness under her feet and found a yellow, cold and slimy sludge on her floor. Keefe had come over last weekend, and he'd brought along some art supplies. Apparently, he'd left some behind, because in her absent mindedness, she had stepped onto a open tube of paint, squirting it everywhere.

"C'mon . . ." she groaned, rolling her eyes at the irony. "Now? Now of all times?" She shook her head. "Later."

Sophie peered at the time on her screen.

Three minutes to go . . .

—

SOPHIE WANDERED AROUND EVERGLEN MEANINGLESSLY, HANDS FOLDED BEHIND her back as she strolled down the hallway, admiring all the paintings and pictures on the walls. She smiled at the young Biana, Fitz and Alvar, running around the lawn of Everglen, clearly not paying attention to the fact there was someone sneakily taking pictures of them.

Then a frown settled in her smiles place at the brain wracking reminder of the secret she was carrying with her. Would Fitz care enough to stay her friend? Would Biana?

She'd ruined all of them, hadn't she?

If she had just not messed around with Fitz that night, it wouldn't have happened. If she had listened to get instincts and said, "Maybe we should wait." If she had just done something—anything.

But he'd told her he loved her. And she'd told him she was 1 00% fine with taking that leap.

"Whatcha up to, Foster?"

Sophie jumped at the voice and swung around, hand defensively grasping down to the pockets on her thigh for a weapon.

"Whoa! It's just me! Geez, someone's on edge," the blonde boy teased.

Sophie relaxed, moving her hands away from the tucked-away throwing stars as she blew out a breath. She leaned against the wall with a roll of her eyes, her heart beat trying to slow down after the startle Keefe had given her. "What do you want now, Keefe?"

His forehead creased as he frowned and gave a nervous laugh, clearly picking up on her not-stellar emotions. "Uhh . . . You?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You asked me to meet you here earlier. Remember? We were messing around outside and you were staring at the ground, so I asked you what was wrong and you told me you'd tell me later, inside Everglen. Now you're inside and I figured . . ."

Sophie wanted to face-palm her forehead. "Right!" she said, the pieces clicking into her brain. Her heart suddenly sunk and slowed to a steadier pace as she let the words sink in.

She was about to tell Keefe something that could quite possibly make him absolutely enraged with her, or ruin his best friend's life. Wonderful.

"-oster? Earth to Foster?"

Sophie shook out of her trance. She darted her brown eyes back and forth down the hallways, making sure no one was watching or listening in. She grabbed Keefe's arm suddenly and started dragging him down the hall. "Hey!" he yelled in protest.

Ignoring his protesting, she pulled him into the guest bedroom swiftly and locked the door behind them.

"What the—"

"You won't tell," she ordered, pointing her finger at Keefe with authority. She wasn't in the mood for him playing games.

"W-wha—"

"You. Will. Not. Tell. This isn't an option. Alright?"

Keefe looked around the room nervously, half-expecting to see someone ready to stuff him in a bag. "Umm . . . Sure?"

"Yes," said Sophie, gritting her teeth, "or no?"

She was not in the mood for this. This was serious, and she couldn't tell him unless he agreed to not tell anyone.

". . .Yes . . ." he answered, half unsure if he wanted to hear what she had to say.

Sophie's angry face calmed as she inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Her fawn eyes looked up to them, fear eminent.

Just blurt it out, Soph. Quickly. One, two, three, and it's over with. Okay?

One.

Keefe watched her in confusion as she sat silent, still looking at him. It was clear that he was mega concerned for her, and she couldn't blame him after the show she was putting on.

Two.

She put her hands to her mouth and let out a shaky breath, momentarily closing her eyes, preparing herself for the two words she had to spit out to Keefe. The two hardest words she'd ever had to say.

Three.

She set her hands back down at her sides, straightened her posture and opened her eyes. "I . . . I'm—"

—

THE FLOWER CARPET COULD NOT BE SPARED. There was no way of getting the paint out without a very thorough wash. Very.

Keefe was so going to owe her for this.

She twiddled her Imparter in her hands, thinking over and pondering the idea of hailing Dex. However, knowing how chipper her best friend would most likely be, he'd sadly make her nerves multiply.

She massaged her temples as she began to pace, thinking over the main concepts of being Cognates.

Trust matters most . . . No trust equals no bond . . . No bond equals no . . . Well, Cognates.

No secrets. Secrets defy trust and leave the other feeling blindsided. No secrets . . . No secrets . . .

But if this was true . . . And what she believed had happened to her was true . . .

"Crap. What have I done?"

. . .No more trust. No more Cognates.

Nothing.

—

KEEFE'S SMILE UNFOLDED FOR A SPLIT SECOND, but it was soon back as he burst out laughing. "Come on. Don't be melodramatic, Soph. You're not pregnant."

"But I am!" she said, trying to make him believe her. "I went out shopping with Biana the other day at some stores. I ran to another while she was in the fitting rooms and picked up a test, Keefe."

She took the test from it's secret hiding place, her pocket—which she now realized was probably not all too secret and could have easily fallen out while ru being around and messing with her friends outside—and held it out to him.

He looked at it warily for a couple seconds, his hand slowly inching closer as if it was a wild animal that could bite him at any second. He quickly snatched the item from her and looked it over, his eyes growing wider with each passing second. "One pink bar . . ."

"Means you're not pregnant," Sophie clarified with a nod as she bit her lip.

Keefe held up the test to her—not that she needed to see it—putting the two pink bars on display. "I don't wanna know what this means. . . Is there a third option?"

She shook her head and whispered a strained, "No, Keefe. No third option."

Though, I wish there was.

"How could you do this?" he asked, exasperated, running a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you use protection, Foster? This is SexEd 101!"

Sophie's brows pressed together angrily at his tone and her cheeks shamefully flushed with warm colour. "Sorry. I thought we did! But, I guess I probably shouldn't have hooked up half-tipsy . . ."

"How could you be so careless?"

"I don't know!" she snapped defensively, not liking the way he was scolding her

"Why are you shouting?!"

"Because you're shouting!"

"You started! And this making me nervous!"

"I'm the one who's going to concieve a damn baby!"

Oh, god . . .