Author's Note: Special thanks to Jayden Celebrian and Lynne Lee for their great reviews!

Chapter 12

By the time I wake up Sunday morning, the initial shock of I'm-going-to-be-a-big-sister has worn off slightly, leaving me a bit moody. At ten-thirty I'm still lounging around in sweatpants, listening to music and looking out my window at the New York skyline. Then something hits me.

"Oh my God! Dad? Holly?" I call out as I race through the apartment, looking for someone. They're in the kitchen, reading the Times. How cute. Not. I have serious business to discuss.

They both look up at me in surprise as I thunder over to them. Holly manages a "Good morning, sweetie," before I blurt out, "We have a problem."

"We…do?" Dad asks confused.

"We don't have another bedroom! We're full," I inform them breathlessly. Then, to my utter shock, Holly indicates the section of the paper she's looking at. The Real Estate section.

"Wh—oh, well, that's good," I finish lamely, all hopes of my earth-shattering discovery spurring everyone into action flying out the window.

"Yeah, we were going to talk to you about it later today. We thought it would be best to wait, because we've been dropping a lot of stuff on you," Holly explains.

"Right—lots of—stuff," I murmur. Then I get angry. No, correction: I get livid.

"SO WE'RE JUST MOVING? JUST LIKE THAT?"

Very slowly, I see my parents exchange looks: My dad gives Holly an "I-told-you-so" look and Holly gives my dad a "Don't-look-at-me-in-that-tone-of-voice" look.

"WELL?" I demand.

"Kylie," my dad begins, "Sweetie, I know this is a lot to take in right now—the baby, the apartment—but we're all going to go through it and figure it out together, okay?"

"Whatever," I snap. I turn and walk away.

"Where are you going?" they both ask in unison as I head to the door.

"I need some air," I say shortly, reaching for my keys. Then, clad only in plaid pajama bottoms, an old camp t-shirt, and thick socks, I pad out into the hall, slamming the door behind me, probably harder than necessary. I expect someone to run after me, to tell me to get back in the house this instant, young lady, and what the hell do I think I'm doing. When no one comes, I get even angrier and storm over to the elevator.

Before I know it, I'm out walking around on the street. Several things occur to me, in rapid succession. First off, I'm not wearing a bra. Not a problem when I'm alone in my room, but on the streets of New York, it's a different story. Unless, you know, you're a prostitute or something. Second, I'm not wearing shoes. I know I'm going to regret this very soon, and for a split second I consider running upstairs to grab a pair of flip-flops. But I can't do that. I have to save face. I figure my socks will hold me over for a block or two—they're thick, camping socks. Not that we go camping much—and we probably never will again, I add savagely. Third, this is my street! This is my home! I grew up here, on this very street! And suddenly, we have to move? Also, I have a perfect right to walk around my street looking like a fool. Unless of course, it's against the law. Which I'm not currently up on.

The blare of an angry taxi shakes me temporarily from my internal rage as I'm crossing the street. With a further stroke of depression, I realize that I'm so upset I can't even react quickly enough to give the stupid driver the finger. I walk on, and an old Green Day song from years ago pops into mind: I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known, don't know where it goes, but it's home to me and I walk alone.

Before I know it, tears are falling hard and fast and I've zoned out the world around me. My feet seem to know their way, though, so I allow myself to fall back into my thoughts. I didn't ask for any of this! I love babies, and I'm glad Holly's having one, but I didn't ask for it! So why should my life be turned upside-down by it?

I again her the blare of another angry taxi, and this time my world snaps back. I look around and am shocked to see just how far I've wandered—I've almost reached the firehouse. I abruptly turn on my heel and start walking back home, but I stop when I hear a familiar voice calling my name.

"Kylie! Hey—Kylie!"

I turn around and see Holly's partner Madeleine hurrying towards me.

"Hey sweetie, I thought that was you—why're you dressed like—hey, what's going on?" she asks, taking in my bizarre appearance and, undoubtedly, my puffy eyes. "Do your parents know you're here?" she asks. I slowly shake my head. "Okay, hang on a minute, let me just call to tell them you're with me." I wait while she pulls her cell phone out, dials, and has a quick, brief-worded conversation with someone on the other end.

"Okay," she says, putting the phone away. "Do you want to tell me what's up, hon? You've wandered pretty far." Then she indicates my clothes, "Is that what the kids are wearing these days?" she asks, her voice full of teasing. I smile at her joke, then launch into my story as we walk, complete with tears.

"—and I don't want to move! I'm fine with everything how it is. I'm going to be leaving soon any, for college, and what if I just want everything to stay the same for awhile? Nobody asked me, nobody asks me anything!" I finish, gesturing emphatically as my tears dry onto my cheeks.

"Oh, sweetie," Madeleine says, pulling me into a one-armed hug as we avoid a woman walking her dog.

I've been so preoccupied, it hasn't even properly occurred to me just how far I really walked, and how long I must have been gone for. "Did they sound pissed?" I ask Madeleine, indicating the call she made.

"I talked to Holly, she sounded relieved that you were with me, but I don't think they were too worried yet. They know you, they know that you know your way around," she said meaningfully. I realize that she's talking about more than my morning jaunt. "Put it this way though," she adds with a hint of caution, "If it had been much longer, I'm pretty sure they would've had someone from the 55 bringing you home in a squad car." I get kind of nervous, realizing that I'm probably going to be in trouble.

We've almost reached the front of our building when something occurs to me. "Hey, Madeleine, what are you doing working on a Sunday?"

"Still taking extra shifts," she shrugs, "And perfecting my role as a guardian angel." With that, she winks at me as I begin my trudge up the stairs.

"Oh, and Kylie," she calls after me, "You'll be okay, sweetie. There are worse things in the world."