Disclaimer: I do not own the Clique

Please note: All italicized words are flashbacks of various degrees

"Merri-Lee, I'm pregnant."

"What?" the woman looked confused.

"I'm pregnant."

"Nonsense Dylan, that's impossible."

"No, it's true, I took the test."

"Dylan." Merri-Lee turned to the teen and spoke to her as if she were an infant who didn't understand why she needed to share her toys "to get pregnant you need to have sex, and I know you haven't."

"Merri-Lee I'm eighteen years old. You had me when you were twenty-one."

"Yes darling but I was attractive."

"Come on Dyl, ONE MORE PUSH!"

"NO!!" Dylan clutched her red and sweaty face.

"We're almost there, come on!!"

"What WE??" Dylan glared.

"Dyl Pickles" Merri-Lee pasted a fake smile on her Botox-ed face "smile for the cameras, we don't want to look like a constipated ape."

"Merri-Lee, please tell your cameramen to stay in the living room, I'm busy."

"Dylan, they NEED to be in your room because they're filming YOU."

"WHAT??"

"Well, my ratings were dipping, and I can't have to world thinking my child is fat for no reason, so we're making 'The Dylan Documentary'

"You CAN'T be serious."

"Well, not THAT name of course, perhaps 'A Mother's Journey' or something really snazzy."

"Merri-Lee get OUTTA MY FACE!!"

"Well Dylan is now experiencing some hormone fluctuations, but will soon return to the presentable daughter I raised her to be." Merri-Lee explained to the cameras.

"FUCK YOU Merri-Lee." Dylan snarled.

"Dylan, PUSH" the gyno grew impatient.

"Okay..." Dylan grew weak.

She strained her nineteen-year-old body one last time before a shrill scream was heard and the cord was snipped.

"It's a boy." The gyno announced as she cleaned him up and measured him before wrapping him in a blanket for Dylan to hold.

"Ooh, we have a big boy" Merri-Lee cooed falsely "just like his mother."

"Twenty three inches, nine pounds seven ounces."

"My Dylan...or should I say the new mommy...was thirteen pounds." Merri-Lee happily reported to the folks at home.

"What are you going to name him?" one of the cameramen asked.

"Dylan and I have..."

"I am going to name my own son thank you Merri-Lee." Dylan snarled at her mother

"Dylan..."

"Will all of you please get out of my room?" Dylan evenly asked the cameramen "NOW?" she directed the last part at Merri-Lee.

"We certainly will not..." she stood her ground "UNTIL we get an interview with the father."

"OUT!!" Dylan instructed them.

Merri-Lee coaxed the cameras off with a smile...not to accommodate Dylan, but to shield the world from her 'stern talk' with her daughter.

"Which one of those little freaks was it again who knocked you up fatter then you already are?"

"Fuck off Merri-Lee." Dylan hadn't been afraid of her mother since the pregnancy.

"Listen Dylan Marie Marvil, I could've thrown your whore ass out on the streets nine months ago, but you're fucking lucky I kept you for the show."

"Don't bat a fucking eyelash, I'm leaving."

"WHAT are you talking about?"

"You'd better fucking get out of here NOW."

"WHAT?"

"Now make way, my friends will be coming soon.