It was February 1986 now, and I was still thinking about that damn picture Frankie and I found in Jewell's old desk. I knew that Newt and Jewell had already given me the "recessive gene" explanation, and I knew Jewell had already told me about some of her relatives having strawberry-blonde hair... so why did I keep fixating on this picture? I should've been over this already. I guess, in a way, it helped distract me from my own issues. I still had to deal with damn puberty reminding me of my assigned gender at birth. At least Namęšéme was there to help me shave my face and find undergarments that could help tuck in my crotch. It wasn't exactly ideal, but we did our best to help me feel more like myself.

Besides, 1986 hadn't been too great so far. It seemed the same as it ever was. Sure, I was putting forth effort to make new friends, but Elena and Tiffany were still around. They didn't pick on me or Frankie like they used to, but we still passed by them on our way to class. I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with Elena or Tiffany ever again, but with the latter, I didn't seem to have much of a choice. After all, Namęšéme and Mrs. Richardson were married now (I was one of the witnesses present when they married in the courthouse), so Tiffany was pretty much going to be part of the family for the rest of our lives. As long as Namęšéme and Mrs. Richardson were together in marriage, I'd have to put up with Tiffany fucking Jeanette Richardson being my aunt.

Speaking of Mrs. Richardson, by now, everybody could tell that she was pregnant. Her stomach was curving out and everything. I couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for her, though. She'd been struggling to fit into anything ever since her pregnancy started to show. None of her pants seemed to fit her anymore, and her shirts, sweaters, and blouses felt very snug. Nearly six months pregnant, and she'd resorted to searching through Namęšéme's closet to find any old maternity clothes that might've belonged to Néške'éehe or Náhko'éehe that hadn't been sent off to a thrift store yet. Indeed, all throughout the house, I would see her in one of Néške'éehe's old dresses almost every day. I thought it was the creepiest thing I had ever seen, but not Namęšéme. He thought it was the most touching thing he'd ever seen, especially when those clothes had been so sentimental to him and Néške'éehe.

I also couldn't help but notice that every time he could, Namęšéme would level his head down to Mrs. Richardson's belly and whisper "Néméhotâtse" before then giving it a small kiss. I couldn't believe how often Namęšéme was doting on her and her unborn child. It was ridiculous. I tried not to pay too much attention to what was happening, but it was a futile effort on my part. All I could do was read through my comic books and watch my cartoons to take my mind off things.

Then it happened. It was Valentine's Day. Namęšéme had decided to go straight back home after dropping me off at school because it was too cold to do much of anything else. Meanwhile, I was in school, trying to get through the day as usual. I hadn't seen much of Mrs. Richardson aside from Homeroom. I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on. During lunchtime, I sat down with Frankie, Benton, and Delta.

"How's your Valentine's Day going so far, Jasper?" Frankie asked me.

"Eh, alright," I replied with a shrug. "I only managed to get, like, one other Valentine card besides yours. What about you?"

Frankie gave me a huge grin. "I got loads of Valentine cards before lunch. I could give you some of mine if you want."

"I-I guess that would be nice. Did Benton or Delta get any Valentine cards after Homeroom?"

"Oh yeah, we got some," Benton spoke up. "Not much, though. Just a few here and there during first and third period."

"Yeah, I guess we're not that popular to get a whole bunch," Delta chimed in.

All of a sudden, while Benton and Delta continued to talk, I spotted Tiffany running over to me out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh my God, Jasper!" Tiffany yelled at me. "Something's happened to Mom!"

I glared at her in disbelief. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Tiffany seemed to be panicking. "Mom's bleeding!"

I just scoffed at her. "Yeah, right. You gonna try to lure me over to beat me up or something?"

Tiffany continued to panic. "No, seriously! You gotta come quick! Mom's bleeding out! I think something's wrong with her!"

Frankie immediately jumped out of her seat. "What? Oh my God! Jasper, Benton, Delta, we gotta come see! I think Tiffany might be telling the truth!"

With that, Tiffany led us to wherever she was heading.

We were immediately met with the sight of Mrs. Richardson being loaded onto a stretcher while blood soaked through her acid-washed mom jeans. There still lay a pool of blood from where she'd originally been standing. I could feel the color drain from my face while my eyes continued to stare at the pool of blood on the cafeteria floor. Benton and Delta looked pretty green in the face, looking ready to throw up our lunch of the day. However, it was actually Frankie who threw up right then and there. It caught the attention of another teacher, Mr. Astley, who was quick to rush over to her aid.

"Are you alright?" Mr. Astley asked Frankie gingerly.

"No," Frankie murmured. "I don't feel so good."

Mr. Astley shook his head. "Oh goodness... why don't I call your parents and have them take you home?"

"Okay..."

I faked a gag reflex. "Actually, I think I might be sick, too."

"Oh dear." Mr. Astley grabbed both me and Frankie by the hands and led us into the nurse's office. "Why don't you two just stay with the nurse while I call your parents, okay?"

"Hey, Mr. Astley?" I suddenly asked.

Mr. Astley cast his eyes right down at me. "Yes, what is it, Jessica?"

"You know my grandpa's married to Mrs. Richardson, right? So he'll probably be heading down to the hospital to stay with her. In fact, he might be doing that right now."

"I see..."

"Can I just go home with Frankie's parents? We know each other pretty well anyways."

Mr. Astley sighed, clearly frustrated with how this day had been turning out. "Fine, but you'll still have to stay with the nurse in the meantime."

"Okay."

"What do you mean Mrs. Richardson already went into labor?" Jewell asked, not sure how to process the information. "She's only, what, five months pregnant? How could she already be having the baby?"

Mr. Astley shrugged. "I wish I knew. I guess we can only hope she'll pull through this somehow. As for, uh, her baby, well... I'm not a doctor, but I gotta say it's not looking good. For all I know, she might have either had a miscarriage or she's about to have one. I don't know what's going on."

"I-I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Astley," Newt said. "I reckon that must have been traumatizing for the kids who saw it."

"It must have been especially traumatizing for your daughter and her friends," Mr Astley said. "Hell, she even threw up right there in the cafeteria."

"Oh dear. That don't sound good."

"Her friend must be coming down with something, too, because she started gagging as well."

"Don't worry, Mr. Astley. We'll take those girls right home."

Newt beckoned me and Frankie to follow him and Jewell into their olive green 1972 Ford E200 Econoline Van, and we boarded the vehicle with no problems. Newt then started the engine and drove us back to the McBride house where we were to spend the rest of the day.