Now to the reviewers' box:

To Lady Kayoss: Yes, I was inspired for this scene when I browsed the Hollywood collection in the comic book section in the local B. Dalton's. However, I didn't buy it because they wanted twelve dollars for it, and I didn't have twelve cents to my name. So it is a similar situation.

To K9: Haven't you ever seen Desperate Housewives? And keep on wondering-she'll find out soon enough and I'm not giving anything away.

Now, to the next thrilling chapter! Octavia and her friends come up with a daring plan to get information to her past! Do I even need to remind you to read and review?

Chapter 3: Searched For Clues to Her Past

Octavia spent the whole afternoon talking with Daisy and Jordan about her autobiography.

"Are you sure you don't know anything about your biological parents?" Daisy asked.

"I'm positive," said Octavia. "I don't even know their names."

"I have an idea," said Jordan. "Remember when I had the mono, and I had to stay out of p. e. for a month? Mrs. Carroll, the office secretary, made me sit in the office and work on the computers and staple things. Anyway, they've got these big file cabinets in there, and every student has a big fat folder. I saw Mrs. Carroll put things in them and take things out all the time. Everything about you and what you've ever done is in that folder. For example, one time, Simone Cusack was sent home for doing something terrible."

"Like what?" Daisy eagerly asked.

"I don't know. She hit a teacher, or bit her, something like that. Anyway, Mrs. Carroll wrote a report on it and put it in her folder. It'll stay there forever and ever. Simone herself doesn't even know it's there."

"Did you ever look in your folder?" asked Octavia.

"No. I wanted to, but it's like, totally forbidden, and someone was always in the office with me. Hey—here's an idea. Let's find out when the next faculty meeting is, and sneak into the office then. The secretary doesn't lock the door until she leaves for the day. I know which drawer the student folders are in. We'll get yours, look inside, and you'll find out something. At the very least your birth certificate will be in there."

"Isn't that against the rules?" responded Octavia. "I've never broken a school rule in my life, and I'm not about to start now."

"Come on," said Jordan. "Who ever won anything by playing by the rules?"

"What if we get caught?" worried Daisy. However, the discussion abruptly stopped when Mrs. Jones entered the room.

"Mom!" Octavia called. "What's for dinner?"

"I'm fixing spaghetti with vodka tomato sauce. Only I'm making it without the spaghetti. Or the tomato sauce."

"Mom…" she implored.

"Just kidding. I'm not a drunk. How about macaroni and cheese for dinner?"

Octavia followed her mother to the kitchen. She needed to know about her birth parents one way or another. "Mom, were you really good at science stuff when you were my age?"

Her mother was paying more attention to the cheese she was grating than to Octavia, which was kind of grating to the girl, pardon the pun. "No, Octavia, I was more into the cheerleading and dance teams. Believe it or not, I was kind of the Brittany Gibson type."

"What about my father? Was he nerdy?"

There was a fraction of a pause in the grating. "No, he was the jock type."

"Because I know I'm a super-genius, really smart, and I'm a major science whiz, and I was wondering who I got it from. Isn't that the kind of thing that's inherited from one of your parents?"

A noticeable pause in the cheese grating. "Sort of. Not necessarily. I can't talk about this."

"Why?"

"Because I was forbidden to talk about your biological—origins—until the time came. Your father and I had to sign papers to that effect before we adopted you."

"Fat lot of good it does me now for my autobiography assignment, huh?" Octavia asked.

It was clear that her mother had nothing more to say on the subject. Octavia popped her head in her room, where Daisy and Jordan were polishing each other's nails. Daisy had absolutely refused to paint Jordan's toenails green and orange.

Jordan gestured towards Octavia's personal phone. "Your boyfriend called, he just got back from Alaska," she said. "He wants you to call him."

David Rose wasn't exactly Octavia's boyfriend. The shy young poet and writer had been set up for Octavia's blind date by his cousin Jordan once. But maybe Octavia could do to madly love something besides science. Life had its ups and downs.

"Tell him I'll call back later." Octavia bent over under an end table and grabbed a large mint green and white scrapbook. Octavia dragged it out and opened it.

"Ooh, what is that?" asked Daisy.

She'd looked at her baby book before, but never with any particular need in mind. Now, she and her friends pored over every page, looking for something for her autobiography.

There was a birth announcement, but it didn't tell her anything interesting—her full name (Octavia Mary Jones), her birth date (August 8), her weight and length, (a bit under the average). It didn't even list the hospital where she was born. There was a lock of brown hair taped to a page and a picture of a baby in a cradle. Then there were the dates of her "firsts": first step (nine months) first words (at eleven months, the young genius had actually said, "Mommy, can I have my bottle?") first baby tooth, first report card. There were her mother's notes on the fact that she was an unusually precocious child who quickly was bored with Winnie the Pooh and wanted to read works by Milton and Shakespeare. Other than the fact that Octavia was a child prodigy, it could have been anyone's baby book.

"Damn," she said. "Nothing I didn't know before."

"Whoa," said Daisy. "At eleven months, you straight out asked your mommy for your bottle? In a complete sentence? At twelve months, I was barely saying 'Momma.'"

"I'm a genius, what can I say?"

"Octavia, can you come in and make a salad?"

Octavia closed the book and went into the kitchen. She searched through the refrigerator for salad stuff. "Mom, I was born in Venice, wasn't I?"

"Yes."

"What hospital?"

Her back to Octavia, Jane Jones continued to grate cheese silently for a few minutes. "Why do you want to know?"

For some reason, Octavia didn't want to tell her mother about her assignment. "Well, weren't you there with my birth mother when she had me? I'm just curious."

"You don't remember?"

The cheese grater was set down with a thud. "Things were crazy then. I had cancer a few years before, I had to have a hysterectomy, I could never have children of my own. Then I searched for years to have a baby to adopt. It was a surprise when the agency came forward and told me Dad and I had been chosen to raise you."

"But who are my biological parents? Surely you met them when they had me and handed me over to you to adopt?"

"I don't remember. Octavia, why don't you start washing that lettuce?"

"But my friend David Rose is adopted, and he knows all about his biological parents."

"Octavia Mary Jones, if you're not going to make a salad, set the table, or do something else to help. Your father is coming home from work and he wants a warm dinner."

"Whatever," she mumbled. It was becoming extremely clear to Octavia that her mother was going to be no help at all for her assignment. Maybe Jordan was right—looking in her official school folder was the only way she could get any answers.

Okay, so it was against the rules. But it was her folder, after all! It wasn't like she was robbing a bank!

Mr. Joe Jones burst through the door. "Hey honey! How's my two favorite girls doing?"

"Honey," Jane said quietly, "we need to talk."