The alarm clock in Kamala Pataki-Sawyer's room went off as it did every morning since she got it for her birthday. With a slight pout over having been disturbed from slumber, she nonetheless starts her day as she always has; a quick stretch, a shower, and some light exercises before getting dressed.

Once dressed, Kamala contemplatively stared at her reflection as she gave herself one last look-over in the mirror. While vanity wasn't in her nature, this particular part of the girl's morning ritual became increasingly habitual. She had grown considerably, standing at a solid 5'8. The half-shaved mop of hair that once topped her head had been groomed over the years into a nice layered shoulder-length bob with bangs (though she still liked it dyed in her characteristic midnight blue). Her skin still remained on the pale side and while puberty had been fairly friendly to her overall, her choice of clothing leaned toward the modest. Today for example, she had chosen to wear a fashionable yet unpretentious long sleeved-tee and a fresh pair of jeans before tying around her waist the one article of clothing she kept from before she was adopted; an oversized tye-dye hoodie bearing the name of her childhood town Spencer Beach, Washington.

Outwardly, one would assume that staring back at Kamala was the reflection of a seemingly well-adjusted girl on the cusp of womanhood, an image of herself she couldn't have imagined being all those years ago as a child. Yet like anybody in her age group, she felt loads of insecurities about her impending march toward adulthood writhing furiously like a swarm of frisky eels in a sack; insecurities that went beyond those typical in an adolescent of any gender. Kamala was sixteen and up to (roughly) the last quarter of her life, she had been the largely ignored and abused progeny of a bitter waitress with DOA acting ambitions and an emasculated fry-cook. Her mother's eventual arrest on top of being adopted by Olga and Lila made up for 12 years' worth of abysmal birthdays, and the life she lead as their daughter was one that defied even her happiest dreams. But the reality of how temporal this was going to be (considering her age at adoption) hung over Kamala like Damocles' sword of old suspended by a flimsy string above his head. "Adulthood", as far as she was concerned, became a lopsided scale where the gains were pittance compared to all you had to lose. Fortunately, these thoughts were momentarily cowed into submission courtesy of Olga's melodious voice sailing up the stairwell alerting her to breakfast.

"Sweetheart. Breakfast is getting cold."

"Coming mom!"

Bounding from her room, Kamala embraces her mothers quickly before pouring herself a glass of orange juice and helping herself to a respectable plate of vegetarian sausage patties, eggs and toast.

"You really wolfed that down." Lila remarked. "I take it there's something ever so important today at school?"

"Yeah, we get our SAT scores today." She said giving her dishes a superficial rinse. "Because all our accounts are made through the school, we can access it from there only."

"But most importantly." Olga said putting her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "No matter what you get, your mother and I love you and know you gave the test your all."

"I love you both." Kamala said giving Olga and Lila one last respective embrace.

By midafternoon, the Junior class at Hillwood High had received their SAT scores. All did reasonably well, though there was a gamut of some doing better than others with few getting above a 1400…and among that handful was none other than Kamala Pataki-Sawyer.

"1410." She whispered proudly to herself.

"A very excellent job indeed." Mr. Lammers said. "And I expected nothing less from you. Your mothers must be very proud of you."

"I just texted them already." She replied. "Oohp! That's Olga; 'Mom and I are so proud of you Kamala. Tonight, the three of us are going someplace special as…(she got quiet reading the remainder of the text)…we have a surprise bit of news we'd like to share…"

Whatever euphoria Kamala felt over her grades suddenly found itself mingled with curiosity. A curiosity which overtook Kamala for the rest of the day and unnerved her classmates as they wondered why their normally gregarious and witty friend suddenly became as silent as a monk.

(That Evening)

As much as there were parts of her childhood that she regarded with disdain in hindsight, Olga couldn't deny that the imposing two-story Texas style steakhouse on Portland Street was a fitting place for special occasions and saw no reason in bucking tradition when it came to celebrating Kamala's recent academic triumph. After splitting a sampler platter, the three women spent the evening enjoying their respective dinners; Olga and Lila sharing a a double rack of lamb while Kamala feasted on a rather substantial looking cheeseburger and curly fries. Upon coming to the final bites of their kingly meals, the two women nodded knowingly at each other before demanding their daughter's undivided attention.

"Kamala…I'm ever so certain you're wondering what news we have to share with you." Lila began slowly.

"Yeah, I…" Kamala began as wiped the barbecue sauce from her mouth. "I was more than curious about that. It's gotta be big news if you wanted to tell me in person.

"Well, yes, it is." Olga interjected. "Kamala, your mother and I love you with all our hearts. And now that you're getting older, your mom and I-"

"Oh God. Don't tell me you're getting divorced." The teenager said in panic. "I…I…"

"Sweetheart, sweetheart, no." Olga said putting a reassuring hand on her daughter's arm. "Quite the opposite. As I was saying, your mom and I were thinking that with you getting older and all, and soon going off to college…well, part of us isn't ready for that."

"And considering that we still have more than enough love in our hearts, and want to share that love, we've considered adopting again…a boy. A baby boy."

Kamala could feel the restaurant starting to spin around her. The cup of soda she was holding drops from her hand and spills all over her plate as she processed what her mothers were saying; a sibling, a second child entering the roof of the home the three of them had made…and conveniently enough, right at the moment when she was to fledge into the wider world!

"Kamala…Isn't that good news…"

Her mother's voice felt faint, like she was speaking from across a football field and not next to her at a table for three. The room continued to get fuzzier and fuzzier…

…then pitch black altogether.