Author's Note: Wow, I really need to learn the meaning of sunscreen. I am no longer completely white with red spots, but completely red with a few white spots lol. My biology regents! AH, I can't can't can't can't FAIL! Oooh my gosh, I'm scared. Anyway, enjoy while I study :)

"I'm home," Rebecca announced, walking into the house. She was greeted with silence, meaning no one else was around. She smiled.

Rebecca walked up the staircase to her parents' bedroom, opening and closing every cabinet in there.

"Damn," she said to herself. "Where is it?"

"Looking for something?" asked Marco from the doorway, clearly more amused than angry. "Rebecca, what are you doing? Tearing my room apart?"

"Okay," she said, dropping the sock in her hand. "Where's your picture box?"

Marco rolled his eyes, walking over the closet. "I was going to look in there," she said, while he brought a chair over.

"Don't make a comment," he said, his voice threatening. Rebecca laughed.

"About your height? I wouldn't dream of it," she said, smiling. She took the box from his hand. "Thanks."

"No problem," said Marco, sitting down on the bed with her.

Marco watched in silence as she looked carefully at each picture. "That's my mom, right?" she asked, seeing a fourteen-year-old version of Paige with her arm slung around Spinner.

Marco had to smile at the look of pure innocence on both of their faces. Rebecca looked so much like her mother.

"Yes," said Marco.

"And…" Rebecca looked up at him. "Spinner…isn't my dad."

"What?" asked Marco, caught off guard. "Rebecca, you've met him before. You know he's not." He wondered where she ever came up with such a thought.

"Well, I didn't think he was. I just…wonder who is," she said slowly, hinting.

"You know, I think it's time for us to go dow—"

"No," she interrupted, pulling on his hand, preventing him from getting up. "Dad, please…please tell me."

"He's not important, Becky," said Marco, already tired of the conversation.

"He's important to me," said Rebecca, lying back against the other end of the bed, her strawberry blonde hair falling on the pillows around her. "I have his last name."

Marco rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Rebecca—"

"At least tell me how—how my mom died," she pleaded. "I need to know, dad."

Marco motioned for her to come sit next to him, and she smiled, quickly obliging. He put his arm around her shoulders. "All right," he started, "but this is not a happy story."

"I figured," said Rebecca, "but don't worry. If you cry, I'm here."

Marco rolled his eyes. "I'll be okay, thanks."

Rebecca waited patiently for her father to begin. "You know, of course, that your mother and I were very close." Rebecca nodded. "Well, Dylan and I didn't approve much of her choice as a boyfriend. We were under the impression that he was quite…controlling.

"Your mother wasn't stupid. So, I found it hard to believe that she was with such an idiot. He'd hurt her many times, but he said that he wanted to marry her, and that things would get better.

"Unfortunately, they really didn't. They married, but as soon as your mother became pregnant with you, he fled. Suddenly, he wanted nothing to do with your mother or you, in that case.

"Paige was a very strong woman, as I've told you many times. She was going to raise you on her own, and she wasn't going to let herself be depressed about your father." Marco paused then, getting to the point in the story that was so foggy in his mind.

"She…she often dropped you with us," he said. "When she needed to work, Dylan and I would take care of you, so we thought everything was okay. She just needed help, you know?"

Marco felt tears in his eyes that he was completely unwilling to shed. "You were quite a handful as a baby," he said. "Anyway, one day, Dylan and I were taking care of you…and we got a call from the hospital."

Rebecca waited for him to go on. "And?" she said after a while.

"She committed suicide," he finished, closing his eyes, hoping he didn't relive the memory again.

"Oh," said Rebecca, rather taken aback. "I always figured it had been come car crash or something. I—wow."

"Umm, Rebecca, if you don't mind, I—"

"Of course," she interrupted, a strange feeling coursing through her body. She took the box, and exited her father's room, confused. She only wished she could feel as upset as her father about it. Did it make her completely heartless that the thought of her mother killing herself didn't affect her at all?

She went to the hallway to her bedroom, closing the door behind her, as always, and walked to her computer. While it started up, she looked at the pictures in the box. She'd discovered her father's albums and the 'box' when she was about eight, and since then, she'd constantly look at the same pictures over and over again, usually asking both of her parents questions about each picture.

She knew almost the story about each one. "Ripped wedding picture," she muttered. Her father had been angry when Dylan had come back to divorce him…so the picture had paid the price.

Another picture of Paige and Dylan in high school lay in her hand. Rebecca smiled, a picture of Dylan graduating.

"What could have been so horrible?" she whispered to herself. Why did she feel the need to take her own life?

She had plenty of help! Rebecca didn't know how to feel, but she couldn't help but feel slightly angry. Didn't her mother understand how many lives she had probably ruined, mainly her current parents?

With her computer finally usable, she went online, almost fearing an instant message from Anthony, even though she knew he wouldn't waste his time online bothering her. No, that was a pleasure she only received during school hours. However, she did get a message immediately from a certain 'friend' she tried to avoid. She sighed. Why had she even signed on?

It wasn't that she disliked Lena. It was just she saw her all the time, and since Lena was quite a bit younger than her, (being only nine) she only wanted small doses of her. She gave a quick hello to her, and then lied, saying that her father needed her, and promptly signed off. She had no one she wanted to talk to, anyway. She would have to ask Daniel if he had an account.

Her pointless online time over, Rebecca decided to have a quiet sit-down in the living room, but by the time she got into the room, it turned out to not be so quiet anymore. She tried to be sympathetic, considering her father's—er—condition, but he'd been so emotional lately that their arguments became daily.

"And I only just—Rebecca," said Dylan sweetly, glad for a chance to walk out of the fight. Marco turned to her as well.

"How was the first day?" Dylan asked, sitting down next to her. Marco went into the kitchen, probably starting dinner.

"Okay, I guess," she shrugged. It had been good. Meeting Daniel was definitely a plus, but for some reason, she didn't feel comfortable telling Dylan about it. Weird. She'd never felt weird saying anything at all to her parents.

"So, here's the deal," said Dylan, leaning closer to her. "Ellie and Jesse are coming over tonight," Rebecca winced, "and they're not bringing Lena. However, could you please make an effort to give, maybe, ten minutes on the phone with her tonight?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she said. "It's just," she laughed, "that she gets attached to me, and I don't…" she felt like she had to explain herself.

"I understand," said Dylan. "So, you two talked about your mother?"

"Oh," said Rebecca, looking into the kitchen, and then back at Dylan, "yeah. Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no," he said. "I just wanted to say something to break the silence. You okay, Beck?"

"Mhmm," she said tiredly. "So, have we decided on more names?"

Dylan put his head back against the couch. "Oh, I cannot believe we're going to have a baby in the house."

"Me neither," said Rebecca. "So, what do you think? Boy or girl? Or, better yet, what do you want?"

"Your dad thinks it's a boy. He has it deep in his heart that there's a boy in there," he answered, laughing. "I don't care what we have. I just can't believe we're having at all. It's a freaking miracle, you know?"

"I definitely know," she agreed, leaning her head on her uncle's shoulder. "I'm going to go upstairs to call Lena."

Rebecca took the phone from the catty near the couch, and dialed the number. "Hello," said Ellie.

"Hi, it's Rebecca, can I speak to Lena?" she asked politely.

"Oh, sure," she said, walking to her daughter's room. "She'll be delighted, Rebecca. You have no idea."

Rebecca certainly had an idea. "Here she is," she Ellie, giving the phone to Lena.

"Rebecca, hi!" she said excitedly. "How was school?"

"Good," said Rebecca, walking into her bedroom. "You?"

"It was good. I have a new boyfriend," she said happily.

Oooh, boy. "Do you?" she asked. "I don't understand you. I don't even have an interest in boys now. You have a boyfriend at nine."

"You had a boyfriend last year," said Lena. "Weren't you interested in him?"

Rebecca sighed. "Sure," she said softly, "but I paid the price for it. I'm making a promise to you that I will never fall for someone so stupidly again."

"So, do your parents know?" Rebecca asked.

"Nope," she said.

"Wise choice. I never told my parents about Anthony," she said. "Come to think of it, I've been lying to them a lot lately."

"Everyone does," said Lena, sounding as though she were a professional.

Rebecca couldn't help but smile slightly. "Yeah, but I don't usually lie to them. I mean, my dad's like my best friend."

"Yeah, mine's not," she laughed. "So, when are my parents going over there, forcing me to stay with the dreaded babysitter?"

"Ah, I don't know. Probably soon," she replied.

"I wish I were in High School," said Lena, completely changing the subject. "You're so lucky."

"Overrated, sweetie. Promise me this boy of yours is good to you," said Rebecca. Their conversations usually consisted of frequent subject changes. "If he hurts you, I don't know if I'm allowed to kick nine year old ass."

"I don't think so," Lena laughed. "but thanks for being on the case. Am I allowed to kick fourteen-year-old ass?"

"No," said Rebecca. "I don't even think you're allowed to say ass," she laughed.

"Mom needs the phone now. I'll talk to you later, Rebecca."

"Bye."

Rebecca hung up the phone, and brought it back down to where it was supposed to go. Her father was no longer in the kitchen, but back with Dylan in the living room. Thankfully, they weren't arguing.

"So, I talked to Lena," she said, sitting down on the end of the couch, raising her eyebrow at the television screen.

"What are you watching?" she asked.

"I have no idea," said Marco.

"It's a classic!" said Dylan, clearly appalled.

"Sure it is, sweetheart," said Marco, resting against Dylan. "Is he going to, like, kill him? If so, warn me."

"Ugh," Dylan wrapped his arms more securely around Marco's body, "fine, I'll warn you, but you're ruining the movie."

Marco rolled his eyes. "Rebecca, what's going on?" he asked, turning his head away from the gory scene.

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know. Lena has a new boyfriend."

Marco smiled. "Ohh, boy. That's so cute."

"It's not cute," said Dylan, turning away from the wonderful movie. "She's way too young to have one."

"So, how old, in your opinion, would a girl have to be to have a boyfriend?" she asked.

"Don't tell me—"

"I don't," Rebecca assured him, "but I…well, I did."

"Rebecca, when?" asked Marco, sounding rather hurt that he never knew about it.

"Last year," she said, feeling terrible. She suddenly realized how excited it would have made him, and she pretty much ruined it. If she ever dated again, if ever, she promised herself at that moment that he would be the first person told. "Long story," she said. In other words, 'I'll tell you when Uncle Dylan's not around.'

Marco nodded, well-aware of the secret language, content with the fact that he'd hear all about later on.

"You're way too young to have a boyfriend," said Dylan, looking back at the screen. "I won't allow it."

Rebecca didn't know why his rejection to it upset her so much. It wasn't as if she was planning on having another boyfriend anytime soon. Marco, however, smiled at her. "You wore that skirt this morning even though he disapproved, didn't you?" he asked, hoping to lighten her mood.

She nodded. "You told me I cou—oh," she smiled.

Marco laughed. "Enough said."

Marco overruled everything, especially during this pregnancy. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Becky, we've got to watch this…uh 'classic.'"

"No problem," she said, walking back upstairs.

Author's Note: Some action next chapter :) I know. You're excited. My last test, which is a Regents, is approaching, and…I'm kind of avoiding the studying that's, like, right next to me. It's lurking all around me, and I keep saying 'no.' I will, though, eventually. Please review :)