Chapter 15

I am happy and proud to report that the Nietos have settled into a schedule: at precisely 5:30 every morning, I am shocked into consciousness by (what we sincerely hope is the last of) Holly's morning sickness. At exactly 5:31, my pillow is clamped firmly over my head, but I continue to mumble words of comfort into the bathroom. If it actually comes out like that, that's fantastic. More likely, I sound like a nut ranting in her sleep. By 5:34, my dad's tired grumbling can be heard as he pads across the frigid hardwood floor into the bathroom to hold the various articles of clothing and hair of his wife's out of the way. By approximately 5:42, all sounds pertaining to vomit have more or less subsided, and my dad rubs the area where his soon-to-be second child is currently residing.

At least he's not taking any of this as an insult to his cooking. If only I could get away with the same thing.

Everything is peachy until 6:15, when the parade begins all over again.

By then, I'm most likely looking for a clean pair of socks or dealing with a bothersome pimple. Or I'm running late, in which case I'm still fast asleep.

Holly's about three months along now, so we're looking at a late-summer baby (wow, that's weird way to think of it). None of the bizarre food cravings have kicked in yet (unless you count chickpeas and sprouts, except Holly's always eaten that rabbit food stuff), so I haven't been able to try any of that famed pickles-and-ice-cream combination. Although I fully intend on doing it.

It's probably a good thing though, the-absence-of-ice-cream situation, because we are going through a particularly brutal New York winter at the moment.

Today's Thursday, and I'm hanging out at the firehouse. (By the way, I have no idea when my dad's going to let up on this after-school-reporting-thing).

"Hey, Kylie."

I turn around at the sound of a voice. I see Grace coming over toward me.

"Hey," I say, folding my chemistry homework into my book.

"What's up?" she asks.

"Not much…homework," I say glumly, indicating my pile.

"I see," she says. "Anyway, Brenden and I are going out on Saturday night. One of his friends from the Academy is being promoted. Do you think you could watch Ally?"

I do a quick mental schedule check. "Sure, I'm pretty sure I'm free. What time?"

"Probably six-thirty to after eleven," Grace says tentatively.

"Okay, shouldn't be a problem," I answer.

"Thanks so much, we really appreciate this, being short-notice and all," Grace says enthusiastically.

"Don't worry about it. I should probably be trying to get all the practice in that I can."

"As long as that practice is for being a big sister and not being a paramedic," Grace winks.

"We'll see…"

"Oh, and by the way, you should know that Ally is going through a major clingy stage," Grace says somewhat apologetically. I get the feeling that she's downplaying the "stage," and that I may be in for an interesting night Saturday.

"Okay," I say somewhat amused. "Is Daniel going to be home?"

"Maybe later," Grace says. "He's got a basketball game, and it depends on if he's coming straight home."

Right then, the alarm goes off throughout the house. All around us, various firemen rush toward the trucks.

"I've gotta go," Grace adds unnecessarily as she turns to leave. "We'll see you on Saturday?"

"Yep, see you," I say as I turn back to my chemistry. I decide that I could have worse weekend plans—after all, I love Ally, and I haven't seen Daniel (my "future husband," if you recall) in a while.

I, Kylie Nieto, am in a pretty good mood.

Too bad it didn't last. I should have known that today, Friday, wasn't going to be good. After all, Holly got her morning sickness early—say, 4:45. The day went downhill from there.

I burned my toast (admittedly, not a big deal, but in the scheme of things, I believe it's relevant), then dripped juice down my favorite shirt (the one that says "I'll show you my IV stand if you show me yours") but didn't have enough time to change. As a result, I now look like I'm wearing IV fluids on the shirt to boot. Oh, and did I mention that my hair is virtually untamable?

While I did manage to make it to first period on time, I discovered almost immediately that Sarah's not in school today. So here I am, during lunch, sitting with a bunch of Justin's friends. They're mostly the guys in his band and some of their girlfriends, but what with my messy appearance (as well as the admittedly lewd message—albeit in a geeky way—on my chest) I'm not in a particularly guitar groupie mood.

Although Justin does have an amazing ability to make me forget about all that stuff when we're kissing…