A/N: Hey! I'm back! The chapter's a little shorter than the past few, but it still has a surprise! Read on! I'm pathetically excited about double digit chapters... oh, well. Still enthusiastic!

To Athenachild101: Congratulations on calling Rachel Dare! I would love to write all day long, but unfortunately there's school *scoffs*.

Here we go with chapter ten...

Chapter Ten

MARILYN'S POV

I was in the forest.

With a shiver, I realized that the forest was not new. The trees were recognizable, somehow, a nagging insisted in the back of my brain. The ground's texture was familiar. I touched my split lip and winced. Looking up at the night sky, I marveled at the precise clarity of the stars. That was when I realized where I was.

At the edge of the forest, the very fringe. A dead campfire lay before me, and the sun was peeking over the horizon, bathing the fields in a warm, peach-colored light. I looked out to see a faint array of buildings, but I couldn't quite make them out.

I was in the dream once more.

I felt my lip with a wince. It was split; a result of my father's slap. Surprisingly enough, my father hadn't done anything other than the slap. He had just motioned for me to go to my room and said nothing, storming up to his bedroom. The tension had said more than enough.

I had fallen asleep, the dream pushed from every corner of my mind. Now I was back again, in the same place that I had started. I wondered with a shiver whether or not I made progress every time I traveled.

I looked down at my attire with a grimace. It was wet, and I was wearing only my Reebok spandex and tight-fitting black tank-top that I wore under my uniform. I touched the base of my throat. And my necklace, I realized.

My feet were bare, though it didn't hurt to step from the cover of the woods. The grass was moist and dewy, and judging by the light of the day, it couldn't have been past five o' clock in the morning. Birds chirped around me, and I took a deep breath. The scent was of- strawberries. Sweet, red, ripe strawberries. I fell in love right then and there.

I shuddered. Despite the whole 'I am in a dream' thing, I was still freezing. The wind blew my curls around, tossing them about my face. I really wished I had a blanket. Something soft, like at Reese's house. Her mom bought the best blankets- soft, plush things.

I fingered my necklace. That was quickly becoming a habit with me, and for some reason, I found it oddly soothing. The cold metal brought a chill down my spine, and I shuddered. My eyes drifted over the scene lying before me: a mess of cabin-like looking places, designed with Greek architecture, and a large, blue house. To the right, there was a mass of berry fields, and in the distance, there seemed to be more buildings- though they looked to be open-faced. One almost looked to be a Coliseum.

Oh, God. I really needed to pay less attention in world History class. It was starting to intrude on my subconscious. I had enough problems as it was; my brain needed no encouragement.

The cold wind reminded me briskly that this was no time to be contemplating my embarrassing valedictorian habits. I shrugged. If this was a dream, then I might as well explore.

I walked on. The place was eerily silent, making me quiver in anticipation. I felt like something bad was going to happen. No, actually, I knew something bad was going to happen. It scared me, and I was ready to go back to the real world once more.

There was the creak of a door, and a girl stepped out from a cute little cabin-like structure. It looked like Barbie's dream house, with pretty lace trimmings and polka dots. A gag reflex rose as I smelled the amount of perfume that she was wearing.

The girl had her back turned to me, and I was stunned by how beautiful she was, even from the back. She was stick-thin, with long, black, shimmery hair braided down her back. She stopped.

"Who's there?" she called, turning around. I saw her clothes- dark, tight jeans, designer flats, and an orange t-shirt that read Camp Half-Blood.

I held up a hand. "Hey. It's just me, don't worry."

She shrieked. "Who are you?"

"Uh- Marilyn," I said.

The girl scrambled backwards. "What are you doing here? What are you?"

"Um- I'm in a dream, and as far as I know, I'm human," I answered. Boy, was this a weird dream.

The girl screamed, a high-pitched wail, and several cabins opened their doors. A boy exited from a flowery-looking structure. "Oh my gods, Lila, what is the matter?" he demanded, looking sleepy and very angry.

Lila pointed to me, her hand shaking. I waved tentatively as an audible gasp went around the camp.

"Someone had better get Chiron," another boy said quietly.

Then my vision blacked out.

I woke, gasping.

Lila. I pictured her face clearly: blue eyes, dark, wavy black hair, porcelain complexion. All in all, she was extraordinarily beautiful- but all of the kids there at the camp had been. They all looked like supermodels, wearing the same t-shirt. I pursed my lips, looking over at my Mac, resting lifeless on my desk.

I pressed the on button. I wondered if this whole Camp Half-Blood was a legitimate place. This was the third time that I had experienced this dream, after all. The least I could do was open a Google page.

As I opened the search browser, my fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Swallowing my fear, I typed DREAM INTERPRETATION. I watched the little circle spin, and then opened the first tab.

It read-

Hello, dreamers! Ready to figure out what's inside your head? A lot of dreams come from real life THINGS that you do every single day! Type into the search bar to find out what YOUR dream means!

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Nevertheless, pursuer that I was, I clicked on the search bar. After I hesitated, I typed in CENTAUR. I waited for it to load, and as soon as it came up, my jaw dropped. I was- stunned.

Wow! Dreaming of centaurs, are we?

This says that you are infatuated with horses. You are deeply in love with a horse: start planning your wedding! Centaurs are sexy! Don't be afraid to challenge the status quo- come out of the closet! You love horses!

Jesus Christ.

I stifled a giggle and tried something else. I typed in DRAGON and decided to see what that said. Needless to say, I wasn't disappointed.

Ooh, dragons! Nice dream!

Dreaming of dragons shows that you are a sexy prostitute who fears of going to the underworld. To fix your fearsome dreams, you must become more chaste and behaved! Don't go running all over town, slow down!

I laughed out loud. So far, I was a 'sexy prostitute' who was 'deeply in love with a horse'. I wondered what Ms. Clark would make of that. I bit my lip, and then tried FLEECE. I snickered at what came up.

Fleeces, huh?

This means that you are embarrassed by your wardrobe and need a whole new look! You want to look fresh, sexy, and half your age, and your current styles just aren't helping! Go get a new look!

Oh, my God. This was beyond fun, if nothing else. Apparently, my style was that of a six-year old. Oh, dear Lord. I chuckled as I thought of what else to type in- I finally finished on FOREST.

Ooh… forest!

This means that you are bored with your daily life and are looking for some pleasure in your life. You have been so distressed thinking about THIS kind of pleasure that you are contemplating where to do it in your sleep! Don't go cold chicken! Put yourself out there!

That was it.

I rolled around on the floor, cracking up. So, according to this website, I was a sexy prostitute fearing hell who was in love with a horse. I was distressed by my wardrobe and life, so I daydreamed of having 'pleasure' in a forest. I laughed.

"Marilyn, will you shut up?"

I looked up, the sniggering already gone as I saw my father's furious face. Another giggle bubbled up in my throat, but I closed my mouth. I was in love with a horse, after all. The least I could do was show my maturity for Pinkie Pie.

I tried. Really, I did.

I howled.

"Marilyn! It is five o' clock in the morning! What the hell are you doing, laughing for no reason?" my father snapped, his green eyes bright and fierce.

"N- nothing," I gasped. "It's just- Pinkie Pie's in love with me, you know." Oh, my God. I was insane. Contemplating love affairs with My Little Pony. Jesus Christ.

My father did a double take. "Excuse me?"

"P-pinkie P-pie," I said, still laughing my head off. "We're in a dramatic love affair."

My father blinked. "Are you sleepwalking?"

"No," I said, still tittering like a maniac. "I'm just destined to be with Pinkie Pie!"

My father stared at me blankly. "Marilyn, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Love!" I yelled, laughing hysterically. "I can't hide it anymore! I'm- in love- with Pinkie Pie!"

Oh, God. I had gone and done it now. It's just- I was in love with Pinkie Pie. Just thinking it made me collapse into little chuckles. I was destined to be with a My Little Pony. I wondered what Reese would have to say to that.

My father opened his mouth and closed it like a fish. "Marilyn, you're either drunk or sleepwalking. Please tell me that you're not insane."

I stopped finally, my chest heaving. "No- I checked my dream interpretation. Apparently, if you're dreaming of centaurs that means you are 'deeply in love with a horse'."

He frowned. "What did you say you were dreaming of?"

"Centaurs. I think I'm just paying far too much attention in history, but, you know, infatuation with horses works as well," I said, my voice light.

My father paled. "Centaurs."

I nodded. "Uh- yeah."

"Describe your dream for me very carefully," he said, eyes wide.

"Well, according to this website, I'm a sexy prostitute-"

"Gods, Marilyn. Not the shitty dream site's interpretation. Your original dream," my father insisted, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"What if I say I was a sexy prostitute in the original dream?" I asked.

My father considered me. "Honestly? Then I think you shouldn't be given any more chocolate. Now speak, child."

I gasped in horror. "No more chocolate?" I said in horror, only half-kidding.

"Get to the point!" he barked.

"Answer my question! Chocolate is a big deal, Dad!" I said, and then clapped a hand over my mouth. Shit. I had called him Dad. He was my father, not Dad.

My father made a face. "Gods, you're stubborn."

"Yes, and we all know where that genetic trait came from," I said, looking at him pointedly.

He shook his head. "It doesn't, actually. Now tell me the damn dream, and fast, or I swear to gods, I will deprive you of chocolate!"

"Threatening isn't the way to make something happen," I said, making the universal tsk-tsk sign.

"Oh, my gods! Tell me the damn dream!" he shouted, shaking his hands.

"Why do you even care?" I challenged. For some reason, I wasn't ready to admit my insanity. At least my father hadn't noticed my dirty legs yet. "Your head is always stuck in your work. It's like… your brain is full of kelp. Like a seaweed brain."

My father froze. "What did you just say?"

"I said you were a seaweed brain. Sorry," I said with a wince.

"Don't be," he said finally, his voice thin and weak-sounding. "No one's called me that in a very long time."

It was as if a chill passed through the room. "My mom called you that, didn't she?"

My father closed his eyes. "Yes. It was a- joke, of sorts."

I curled up into a little ball. "Tell me about her. Please."

He hesitated, and then sighed. "Annabeth. That was her name."

My father walked out of the room, making me feel hollow. Her name had been Annabeth. Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth. My mom. I swallowed. The words were so foreign to me: mom. Mom. Annabeth.

I realized something.

I had never told him about my dream.

I shrugged, climbing back into bed. No sleep for me- I wasn't sure I wanted to go back into that dream. I would just- stay there. Lie for a while. I was suspended, after all. This day was going to suck anyway.

Annabeth.

REESE'S POV

My head ached.

I walked into first bell pissed off. First, Marilyn had ditched me. I knew she had ditched me because she always went to school. It was like a temple, or some sort of refuge to her. It was when she admitted the fact after she threw up halfway through the night and went to school anyway that I had told her I lost my ability to understand her.

I was still angry with her for stealing Will, but in light of everything that Mom had told me, I felt that normal people problems were insignificant. Mom had given me a crash course in the genetics of demigods- apparently, no mentionable ones in the last two centuries. We really sucked nowadays, I supposed.

Not we, them, I reminded myself. Nevertheless- it was cool to have something that Marilyn Monroe didn't have. She wasn't an all-powerful half-oracle or demigod. It was a comforting thought, and I hugged my shoulders against the drafty classroom.

I frowned as I surveyed the scene around me. People were chatting everywhere, their books abandoned at my desk. At my very absent desk. Both Will and Lynnie were missing. I rolled my eyes. Probably getting some Starbucks again.

I am an oracle. Marilyn is not. I am special. She is not.

Though I felt guilty for thinking it, I was glad to have something that she, for once in my life, didn't have. For once, I was special, just like the perfect, prissy, stick-a-pole-up-my-ass Marilyn Monroe. She wasn't perfect- her personality could use some serious adjustment sometimes- but she was way too close not to be jealous.

"Please, get in your seats, class," Bridge said, smiling with her yellow, scraggly teeth. Ugh. Disgusting, that woman. As her students obeyed, she scribbled something on a piece of paper without looking up. "Anyone absent?"

"Uh- Marilyn and Will!" a kid called out.

Snickers ran through the class. I leaned over to Margaret Waters, who sat next to me. She had her brown curly hair buried in her phone, and I tapped her shoulders. "What?" Margaret snapped.

"Uh- why aren't Marilyn and Will here?" I asked, feeling very left out.

Margaret smirked. "Oh, that's right. You weren't here for their fight yesterday. They're suspended until Monday- so just one day. Seriously, though. We had school canceled yesterday, the fight was so epic. They destroyed equipment. Not that Will couldn't handle the pay… his family is loaded."

"Suspended?" I asked incredulously. "Marilyn Jackson, suspended?"

Margaret giggled. "I know. Who woulda thought that bitchy know-it-all coulda got suspended? It's like, amazing."

"Piss off," I muttered. Margaret raised her eyebrows.

"I see the bitchiness's rubbed off. Careful, Reese. That was, like, mean."

Oh, Jesus Christ. I mean- gods. This new lingo was going to get some getting used to. Apparently, 'Holy Hera' and 'Zeus Almighty' were some of the lingo- but there was no way that I was going to say those in public. I was already seen as a freaky enough. No need to worship dead religions out in public.

"Yes, yes, I know that. Anyone else?" Bridge demanded, sounding pissed.

"Me!" another kid yelled out. "I an't heah!" The Bostonian accent was ridiculously heavy, and I winced.

Five, four, three, two…

"Grammar, Daniels. Attitude as well, please."

Ah, the grammar corrections. By age thirteen, I can predict when they happen. A sad but true fact in the life of Reese Veronica Winters.

"Alright. Now that we've established the wonderful fact that this generation has yet to acquire good behavior, I'd like to speak to this class about PAM testing," Bridge said.

A chorus of groans ran throughout the class, including myself. Leave it to me to find out that the world has changed completely in everything- religion, food, family, friends- and come back to school for PAM testing, the pinnacle of evilness. Leave it to me.

"Aw, shit," Margaret said beside me. Gods, that girl had a mouth on her. It was almost as bad as Marilyn and I.

"Language, Wallaby," Bridge warned.

I snickered into my palm as Margaret threw her hands up in frustration. I loved this class- especially Mrs. Bridge and her name aliases. Only Bridge could confuse Waters with Wallaby. She wasn't hard of hearing (proved by the fact that she caught 'shit'); her memory just sucked.

"Anyhow," Bridge continued, shuffling some papers on her podium up at the front of the room, "I'd like to discuss the PAM testing. As you know, you will be tested on Math, Science, World History, Language Arts, and Art History. There are those of you who will do very well-"

Someone coughed "Jackson!" into their arm.

"And those of you who will do very poorly."

In other words, the oracle sidekick of Marilyn Jackson, suspended friend. Oh, I was so going to call her. That woman had it coming for her. I pursed my lips, and carefully brought my phone out of my UGG. There was no reason to delay.

hey, slacker. :/

It wasn't long before I got a reply.

hay is for horses. btw- did u no that pinkie pie + i had a love affair? 'cuz we DID! :)

What the hell?

wtf?

My phone vibrated softly as Bridge continued to drone on.

o. so, ive been having SUPER weird dreams lately… so i checked a dream interpretation site and it said that if i dreamt of centaurs that meant i was in love with a horse. basically, the whole thing translated to: u are a sexy prostitute who is afraid of going to hell. u daydream about 'pleasures' (their words, not mine) in the woods with horses. so, the relationship with pinkie pie.

Um.

…

She replied quickly.

jerk! that took me forever to type, and u responded with a '…'. u no, im not sure why ur surprised. my sexy prostitute side is really showing its true colors.

Holy Hera. Hey, I was actually getting the hang of this whole 'Greek gods lingo' thing.

jesus christ. im just going 2 ignore that 4 the sake of my sanity. btw- wats with the whole 'ditching my friend because i got SUSPENDED'? wth?

She responded fast, and my phone buzzed a little loud. Margaret shot me a suspicious glance, but otherwise, no one seemed to notice.

not going 2 discuss that 1. txt will if u want 2 no- but im not talking to him. long story. hey- rn't u supposed 2 be in class?

Well, yes, technically. I looked at Bridge droning on. Marilyn was a human encyclopedia. I was pretty sure that I was going to learn more texting her than listening to Bridge ramble on about PAM testing. Half of the kids in the class were twirling strawberry gum around their fingers, sleeping, or texting like me. It was straight out of Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

uh… yea. hay is 4 horses!

ther calling ur name.

…bueller…bueller…bueller...

I cracked up. Oh, my own wit amused even myself at times. Margaret shot another look at me, and I quieted down. At least I wasn't talking about love affairs with Pinkie Pie. I still didn't fully understand that one. My phone vibrated.

haha, very funny, reese. btw- i found out my moms name.

She what now? And didn't tell me? Oh, that bitch.

TELL ME NOW OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES.

I was only half-joking about that one. I had to listen to her rants all day; I could handle her mother's name.

o, i dunno…

Bitch.

IM SERIOUS MARILYN ELISE JACKSON. TELL ME NOW OR RISK DEATH BY HAND OF CRAZY REDHEAD.

That should do it, I think. Another message popped up.

o, fine. her name was Annabeth.

Annabeth. That was a really pretty name, actually. I wondered if Annabeth looked anything like Marilyn. If that was the case, then I could see why Percy fell in love with her. Both father and daughter looked like they came from the cover of Vogue magazine.

omg thats a pretty name lyn! hav u googled her yet?

My phone vibrated really loud this time, getting glances from a few other kids. Bridge looked over at me, raising an eyebrow, and I vowed to be more careful.

uh… i dunno her maiden name.

Oh, girl. That was what Google was for!

I began to type, only to have the phone snatched from my hand. I looked up at Bridge guiltily. She smirked.

"Let's see what this reads," she said, marching up to the front of the room. She smiled a smug, prissy grin, and I grimaced. "Ahem. It says: 'If you can find time to browse the internet for dream interpretation sites describing you as a sexy prostitute afraid of the underworld- not to mention the sex fantasies about horses in a forest… you can Google Annabeth?'

Oh, gods. This was not happening.

The class erupted into laughter, as Mrs. Bridge looked quite scandalized. "Miss Winters, what is this?"

Nora, come on. Can't you proofread? This is a Catholic school. You shouldn't be reading things about horse 'pleasure' fantasies out loud.

I buried my head in my hands.

WILL'S POV

I flopped down on my bed.

I had managed to sneak my laptop from earlier, and at present, I had been hiding out in my room all freaking day. I was going literally stir crazy. I loved Napoleon Dynamite; that movie was amazing- just the attitudes in it made me laugh out loud. After watching it eight times straight, though, it kind of made me want to punch the wall. Again. I had already tried to Google Percy Jackson a bunch of times, and I had gotten some information. He was a famous marine biologist slash marine doctor (surprise, surprise) who was widowed with one kid. There was nothing that I didn't already know there.

I then tried to Google Annabeth Chase, but all I got out of that was she was the late daughter of Professor Frederick Chase, famous architect- she constructed a lot of pretty amazing buildings- and dead wife of Percy Jackson. It said nothing that hinted 'quest' or 'demigod' anywhere. It was as if they were both mortal.

I groaned as there was a knock on my door. I paused Pedro mid-speech. "You're interrupting Pedro, Mom!"

Piper sighed as she sat down at the foot of my bed. "You are in serious trouble, you know. I think Pedro can wait."

"But- but- he's Pedro!" I exclaimed, pointing to the little Mexican man on the screen. "He's got skills! He's got a mustache! He's got-"

"To get you to shut up," Piper said. She checked her watch with a heave. "I've got parent-teacher conferences tonight. I'm a bit afraid for yours. For now, though, I've got to go to a doctor's appointment. You had better behave- Quinn's watching."

I scoffed. "I am the master of escaping! I could escape under even the Warden Piper's watch!"

"Where did I go wrong?" Piper asked the ceiling. "I followed all those dumb books, I tried to give him a good upbringing. What did I do to deserve this?"

"You gave me no answers! I am a deprived man, Mother! A deprived man!" I shouted.

Piper looked at me like I was crazy. "Will, do you need your insanity medication?"

"No. What I need is to get out of this house before I go insane!" I said vehemently.

"Oh, my gods. I'll tell you what's wrong with that sentence. A: you are in serious trouble and suspended from school. B: you are already insane, Will. C: I am your mother and you should always do as I say. D: please refer to A because you made an innocent girl get a suspension!"

Oh, please. She was anything but innocent. Marilyn was probably having fantasies in her head right now. "Gods. She started it, just for the record," I muttered.

"What did you do to provoke her?" Piper said, hands on her hips.

"Is that really important?"

"Yes, William Grace, it is important," Piper told him.

I shifted uncomfortably. "I- may have said a few- misunderstanding things about her family situation. May have. Theoretically. Hypothetically. Made up, of course."

Piper stared at me. "You did not."

"Uh- yeah. I did. Sorry," I said lamely.

"Will- that's just- apologize. Immediately." Piper looked like she had just been kicked in the stomach. Violently.

"Yeah. I know. I thought she was being a drama queen." I scratched the back of my neck.

Piper stared at me for a long moment, and then rubbed her face. "You just really don't understand the feeling of no one caring for you when you're growing up. I'm sure that Sally and Paul were there for Marilyn some of the time, but not all of it. To a certain extent- I understand that. You just can't comment on things you really have no idea about."

I stared at a water bottle on my table. The discussion felt heavy, and I read the script with some difficulty- it looked like Evart Springs.

Then, shamefully, I started laughing.

"That's not funny, Will!" Piper said, her eyes wide.

"It's not that," I said between bouts of laughter. "It's just- between everything. The move, Marilyn, Percy Jackson, dead wives… and it's just Evart Springs!"

Piper finally reached out to gently pat me on the top of my head. "There… there. My son who has finally cracked."

I hugged my mom, smelling her perfume. She smelled of fresh linens, and I gripped her tightly. She laughed. "I mean it, Will. You are in so much trouble."

"Yeah, I know," I said, pulling away. "But you're still my mom."

"Keep trying," she said with a smirk.

Dammit. I should have known better than to butter her up.

"Go away," I said flatly, and my mom kissed the top of my head.

"Bye, Will. Oh- and by the way?"

"What?" I said.

"I told your father," Piper told me with a thin-lipped smile.

"What?"

Piper left, giggling.

She thinks she's so funny.

PIPER'S POV

I sat in the chair.

The faint hum and beeping of machines could be heard throughout the doctor's office, and the smell of antiseptic was pungent in my nose. I leaned back in the plastic chair in the waiting room, looking at the walls of brochures. I smiled when I saw one for pregnancy. I remembered those days.

For my part, I thought that these visits were kind of pointless. They consisted of a doctor checking my heartbeat, pulse, and cholesterol levels, as well as my weight. I could get more out of a Wii Fit game. There was also the peeing in the cup- as fun as that was, I think I could go without it as well.

The door creaked open, showing evidence that the rusty hinges needed oiling. The doctor walked in with a laptop, grinning in his white coat. "Good morning, Mrs. Grace," he greeted.

"Good morning, Doctor- Arnold?" I said, peering around to read his name tag.

The doctor laughed. "Close. Doctor Andrews, actually."

"Sorry," I said, a blush creeping into my cheeks.

"That's alright," he said, waving off my apology. He began to strip some latex gloves onto his fingers. "So, how are you feeling today?"

"Uh- great," I lied.

Dr. Andrews chuckled. "You don't sound all that great," he remarked, opening his laptop. The start screen of Windows seven opened up.

"Just kids." I looked around to the screen, which now had an Internet Explorer tab open.

"I know the feeling," he said dryly. "Ah! Here we are- you seem to be healthy, for the most part. Oh!"

"Hmm?" I said, a worried feeling settling in my chest. "For the most part?"

Dr. Andrews leaned back, a huge smile on his face. "Oh, yes. Your stress levels seem to be a bit higher than they should."

I wasn't particularly sure I liked this doctor. He laughed at my pain. "Uh- thanks?"

"Those kids stressing you out?" Dr. Andrews prompted, his dimple widening. He was starting to somewhat resemble a serial killer from one of those creepy movies that Caroline and Will sometimes like to watch.

"Uh- yes, I suppose. My son has recently gotten into a lot of trouble at school," I said. A lot of trouble was incorrect, actually. It was more of a mountainous heap of trouble- in which Jason had yet to yell at Will about. I smiled. That, at least, I was looking forward to.

"Has he?" the doctor hummed, getting a few papers out from a cabinet in the wall. The room was tiny- a small, compact thing with one of those waiting 'beds' where children sat, a few chairs, a sink and cabinet, and a wall of brochures. I was beginning to experience claustrophobia.

"Yes," I said, a bit ticked off. This doctor could speed it up. He had no need to take all day doing his business.

"Well," Dr. Andrews said, a wide smile plastered on his face, "I do hope you like children."

"Uh- yeah. I like children," I told him, unsure of what he was talking about.

"And, before I say anything else, I just want to comment on your healthy status and say congratulations. I know you'll be so proud," Dr. Andrews remarked.

"What on Earth are you saying here?" I said, fully pissed.

"You don't know?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"No," I snapped. "Please get on with it."

Dr. Andrews's eyes were twinkling. "Oh, goodness. You really don't have a clue?"

"No!" I shouted. "Get on with it, if you please!"

"Why, Mrs. Grace," he said with a short laugh.

"You're pregnant."