Mom and Dad both have patients and work to do, so I stay in Mom's office at the hospital and try to focus on homework.
After a blissful hour of silence, in which I finished an essay I'd been working on since last week, I hear loud voices and then the door opens and Mom is holding it open for someone.
It turns out to be a small group. I recognize three girls from school. They're all sophomores, and one of them, I'm pretty sure, is only 15. I think the other four people must be their parents.
"Everyone just take a seat," Mom orders. The only father present looks at me.
"Is this your daughter?" he asks rudely, jutting his chin towards me. "She can't be here."
"She found the baby. Dyin' on the floor of a bathroom, wrapped in a bloody sweater," she fires back. The girls eye me. Two of them look scared and the other just looks like a snob.
Everybody starts to sit down, and I move my bag so Mom can sit beside me.
"According to Dean Kim, you three are the only people who were near that bathroom all morning," Mom says, hard-faced and with a look that clearly states she will not be taking any bullshit.
"Well, she obviously was," the snobby girl flicks her head towards me.
"As I just stated, Miss Brown, my daughter found the baby. And she most certainly didn't give birth."
This is the side of Mom that makes people call her a bitch and fear her. And I kind of love it, especially when the girl clamps her mouth shut, looking wary of Mom.
Ashley! That's her name. Ashley Brown. She and the other two try to show up to parties. They never get into Axel's, but I've seen them at other parties in the past.
Addison arrives, the same business-only look on her face.
"I'm Dr. Montgomery," she says, coming to sit on the other side of me. She stares at the other couch and two chairs of people. "The baby is my patient. He's okay, for now, if any of your care."
She's pissed, like Mom, and has a way of being intimidating when she wants to be. Not on the same level as Mom, obviously.
"It's not our baby," one of the girls says.
"Yeah. Do we look like the kind of girls who'd leave a baby in a bathroom?" the other asks.
I know now that they are Chelsea Bell and Elisabeth Marque. Their names pop into my head.
Addison sighs, irritated.
"Do you understand that this baby almost died? If anything happens to him, it is your fault. That's on you. Now I need to know whose baby he is now. Now. The mother could have internal damage, excessive bleeding...whoever it was, needs medical treatment."
"This is ridiculous. I'm taking Chelsea home," the man stands up.
"Do that, Mr. Bell, and I will have you arrested before you reach the parking lot," Addison shoots back.
He glares. "Can't you just do the blood tests again?"
"To what, give us the same results? They were inconclusive. Any of the girls could be the mother."
"Well then do a physical exam!"
"It's illegal, without consent, Mr. Bell. And it could have traumatic effects, especially if the girl is a virgin. There could be bleeding, tearing...you need to tell me now, whose baby he is."
"Well it's not my Elisabeth. No one can stay that slim while pregnant," Mrs. Marque snaps.
The women start bickering until Addison yells at them to stop.
"Who are they children here?" she looks at the parents in disgust. "You know what, come here."
She grabs Chelsea and Elisabeth by the arms and yanks them up before pulling Ashley out of her chair as well. They protest, telling her to let go, but she pushes all three girls out the door. Mr. and Mrs. Bell start to follow but Mom tells them to wait.
"Let Dr. Montgomery do her job," she sighs. "One of your girls could need serious medical care. And that little boy needs to be thought of."
She's irritated and I can't blame her.
"You're Kate Freedman," Mrs. Brown says, out of nowhere.
I look up. "Yes," I say after a moment.
"Oh," Mrs. Marque says, frowning. "The girl who was in that car accident."
I nod slowly, feeling uncomfortable.
"I was sorry to hear about that," Mrs. Brown says kindly. She's a tired-looking woman with blue eyes and brown hair pulled away from her face. I imagine Ashley is hell for her to deal with. And I think she is the one who gave birth to that baby. Aside from the fact that she usually would show up at parties wearing the skimpiest clothes possible and make several trips to a bedroom, she is the only girl who sat leaning forward the entire time, just now. As though sitting normally was too painful. I wonder if Mom noticed this, too.
I look at this sad-looking woman and nod my gratitude at her kindness.
"Where did that doctor take the girls?" Mr. Bell demands impatiently.
"Well, I imagine to see the baby," Mom glowers.
Everyone is quiet, and the silence is getting awkward.
About ten minutes later, Addison comes back with the girls. Ashley is crying.
"What? What happened?" Mr. Bell demands, but Mrs. Brown closes her eyes and inhales.
"You can go," Addison says quietly to Chelsea and Elisabeth. The Bells leave quickly. Mrs. Marque sets a hand gently on Mrs. Brown's shoulder as she leaves, guiding Elisabeth out.
Addison closes the door.
"The police are waiting to speak with you and your daughter, Mrs. Brown," she says.
They stand up and the door is opened by a police officer.
Ashley pauses before leaving, and looks over at me. The snobby girl who came in here has been replaced by a sad, terrified one.
"Please...don't tell anyone." Tears rolls down her cheeks.
I shake my head. "It's not my business to tell," I reply softly. She nods and follows her mom and the cop.
Addison closes the door and signs, sitting down and rubbing her forehead.
'God. That woman already looks beaten...now she's a daughter heading to juvie and a grandson to take care of." She looks deflated.
"She'll go to juvie?" I ask. Mom rubs my back.
"She'll have to. Her actions almost killed her baby."
We all sigh and lean back into the couch, sitting in silence.
Mom tells me that I have to stay home tomorrow, over dinner. I look up but she shakes her head, meaning it's decided.
"You're exhausted. You haven't slept since Saturday, and now this. You need some rest, baby girl, otherwise, you'll only feel worse."
I peel some fried chicken off the bone. "Alright."
"Bright side?" Dad looks at me. "My kid saved someone's life today."
He looks so happy and proud, I have to smile.
"Not your average weekday," I say.
"Well," Dad says, acting all macho. "If you're the greatest pediatrician in the state of California and quite possibly the entire country..."
He looks at Mom and I expectantly, his hands up by his chest.
Mom throws a balled-up napkin at him and we laugh at him.
"Alright. Let's...do nothing. Watch a movie. Anything good out?" Dad says.
"Actually that one with Emma Stone about the maids looks really good," Mom replies, getting up and gathering plates.
"Yeah, The Help," I say. "I wanted to see that."
"Settled," Mom nods.
"I need to shower first," I say, getting up from the table. "There's probably placenta fluid on me."
They both go to the work the next morning, but Mom promises to be home early, and tells me I should try to sleep as much as possible.
I try, but I get out of bed around 10:00 because I've been lying here dozing and can't actually fall back asleep.
I go downstairs with my favorite purple blanket and flop onto the couch with Nigel.
After an hour of Maury and cooking shows, I flip on my karaoke machine. Jamie and I used to drive my parents crazy with this thing.
I take a cordless mic and flop back onto the couch. I sing Your Song by Elton John, holding Nigel's face as he looks at me, clearly unimpressed. I sing Groove is in the Heart, by Deelite, and am draped across the couch, my legs hooked over the top of it and one arm falling onto the ground, singing Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis when the door opens, but I don't hear it.
After dramatically singing the last note, I let me head fall so I'm basically upside down, and notice Mom and Addison standing at the end of the couch holding takeout and staring at me, eyebrows raised.
"Oh. Hey," I say, giving a lazy wave.
"Hey," they reply, amused.
"Just...an average Wednesday for ya?" Addison shrugs.
"Basically. I tried to serenade Nigel, but it seems that his music tastes have changed."
"I mean, you sound amazing. I'm just not sure belting one out, upside down with your head falling off the couch is proper singing posture," Addison adds, as they drape their coats on the coat rack and drop their purses onto the island in the kitchen.
"I think we'll leave that up to Simon Cowell," I reply.
"So, sleeping in didn't really play out? "Mom asks, coming to touch my hair and look at me closely. "You're still pale. You look tired. You need to sleep!"
She points at me and kisses my forehead, going to help Addison get plates and forks.
"Come outside," she gestures.
I roll out from under the blanket and Addison stares at me.
"Are you wearing legwarmers?"
"Yes," I glance down at the fuschia wool.
"Neon-green shorts, Star Wars shirt, and pink legwarmers," she nods, looking me over.
"They are fuschia," I reply, as though she's silly for saying pink.
"And I am starvin'!" Mom calls from outside.