A/N: In response to, "Why does Adrian hate Amy?" She doesn't. (Although now Amy hates her.) Adrian dislikes her, but she doesn't hate her. (Maybe that wasn't clear. If so, sorry about that.) She views her as a bit of a goody-two-shoes. And then there are just other…little things. Like, Amy dating Ben/Amy's friendship with Ben. (Jealousy or something? Maybe, maybe not…) And Ricky's opinion/dislike of Amy could also have something to do with it. ;) But in the wake of the whole George business, she does feel a little pity for her (and Anne).

Turning Tables

Baked California

"The age old question: love or money."

"Huh?"

Adrian shook her head. "Never mind. Look at this! Can you believe how expensive this crap is? I went to the cheapest place I could think of – Wal-Mart's website – and still the cheapest crib I see is ninety-nine bucks, not including shipping. And it's kind of hideous, too."

Grace pulled up a chair beside Adrian and sat down as the latter scrolled through the baby section on the Wal-Mart online store. "Everyone knows babies are expensive, Adrian. But you know that you don't have to buy everything new, right?"

"And what am I suppose to do? Go dumpster diving for a rusty old crib that will probably give my kid gangrene?"

"There's always thrift stores," Grace replied brightly. "I love thrift stores! Sometimes you can find things that are practically new for a fraction of the cost! If you want, we can pick a day over the weekend to go baby browsing if you want."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Adrian exited the browsing window. "Even if I wanted to, I don't have any money to go shopping with anyway."

"Have you been looking into jobs?"

"I have a great GPA, but that doesn't exactly equate into work experience on a resume. And, with me being a high school student, that cuts even further into the list of potential jobs, because there are so few that offer a decent wage, especially as part time, and even less that offer insurance benefits to a pregnant teenager."

Grace crinkled her nose in deep thought. "Maybe you could speak with Mr. Molina?" she suggested. "He could probably help you look into jobs in your area of expertise. Maybe he could even find you one where you get school credit for working? Work experience or something?"

"I guess wishful thinking is one option I have."

"It's not wishful thinking, it's practicality. They do offer things like that, Adrian."

"We'll see."

The door cracked open and Grace's father, Marshall Bowman, a sturdy blonde man in a dress shirt and slacks, popped his head in. "Gracie, I just wanted to remind you that the trash needs to go out tonight."

"I haven't forgotten, Dad."

"And could you please tell your mother that I have to make an unexpected trip up to Palo Alto tonight? I've been trying to get a hold of her, but I realized she left her phone on the charger this morning and I have to leave in about an hour."

"Palo Alto? Isn't that like a six hour drive?"

"Dr. Hightower has asked me to go in her place, she had a family emergency that she had to attend to."

Grace nodded. "Alright, will do." She hopped off the chair and gave her father a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. "Drive safe and call when you get there!"

Marshall kissed Grace's forehead. "I will." He looked up and nodded to Adrian. "Nice to see you again, Adrian."

"Likewise, Mr. Bowman."

"How are things going with the pregnancy?"

Adrian shrugged. "As well as can be expected I guess."

Marshall nodded. "I'll see you girls later then. Have a good week!"

"Bye!" Grace chirped as her father shut the door.

"I'm tired of studying, you wanna take a break?"

"I've been the one actually studying," Grace corrected her friend.

"All the same: you want to go hit the Dairy Shack? I'm having a massive craving for a strawberry-banana milkshake."

"I thought you hated the Dairy Shack's banana milkshakes?"

"I said strawberry-banana."

"What about not having any money for anything?" Grace lifted her eyebrow.

"Oh get off it!" Adrian snorted. "Just go with me or face the wrath of my pregnancy hormones. Basically: do or die."

Grace grabbed her purse from the back of her door handle and shrugged. "Alright then, but I really think you should be saving your pocket money for the baby."

"And I think you should stop being so Christian all the time, but we all have to live with one another's quirks now don't we?"

The two teenagers made their way downstairs and Grace stopped to lock the door behind her while Adrian started up her convertible. Moments later Grace climbed into the passenger seat and noticed that Adrian was staring into the rearview mirror. "Makeup not quite right?" she joked.

Adrian abandon the rearview mirror and placed her hands on the wheel, but didn't shift the gear into drive. "I was just feeling a little strange," she said quietly.

"Upset stomach?"

"No…" Adrian looked over her shoulder then at Grace. "Do you ever get a weird feeling sometimes, like someone's watching you?"

"I think we all get that feeling sometimes."

"I know, but sometimes…even like when you're alone? The cold, tingly, October-like feeling that just sort of surrounds you and gives you chills?"

Grace squirmed uncomfortably and looked up and down the road, but it was desolate. "I think I know the kind you're talking about," she agreed. "I used to get them when I was a kid, like if I was doing something I wasn't supposed to and I knew it. I figured it was God's presence, telling me what I was doing was wrong."

"It's not God." Adrian glanced into the rearview mirror again and then closed her eyes and shook herself off. "Maybe it is just my conscientious though." She pressed her foot to the break and pulled onto the road, leaving her objections at the curb.

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"I need to talk to Bunny alone for a few minutes, Ben. It shouldn't take long if you want to go back out to the car and wait."

Ben shook his head and took a seat in the front of the butcher shop. They'd hit it at one of the few lulls in the day, probably on purpose. "I'm fine, no use in wasting gas for a minutes." He strummed his fingers as his father led the store manage, Bunny, into the back room to discuss something or other. Ben's thoughts soon began to turn to Amy and their last conversation at the park. He kept contemplating the idea of texting her to see how she was and to find out whether or not her parents were still following through with the divorce when the jingle of the bell above the door distracted his attention.

An older man walked in, probably passed mid-life by Ben's calculations, but certainly not yet elderly. He wore a plum colored windbreaker with lime green stripes and a pair of black jogging pants. Despite the white hair, he looked surprisingly fit for his age. The man wandered up to the counter and began to mull over the options behind the glass. "Been waiting long?"

"Oh, no," Ben combated the question with a wave of his hands. "No, I'm just waiting for my dad, he's in the back speaking with the manager. They should be out any minute."

The man nodded and continued browsing until he came to a booklet on the counter depicting the Boykewich Butcher catering services. He lifted it up and took it over to the chair beside Ben and plopped himself down to get comfortable, softly humming to himself.

Ben scooted to the farthest most side of his chair to give the gentleman as much elbow room as possible, but as the seconds ticked off, he began to cast quiet glances over his shoulder, eyeing the pages the man was looking at, and began to notice that he kept frequenting one page in particular. "Planning a party?" he asked casually.

"Hm?" the man murmured, raising his eyes from the page.

"A party," Ben repeated. "I noticed you're looking at the catering booklet."

"Ah!" the man chuckled, nodding. "Yes. No, actually. Not a party, but I was interested in catering for a marathon."

"A marathon? How many people, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Probably an upwards of a hundred. No more than one-fifty at the most. It's a fundraiser."

Ben smiled and motioned his hand. "May I?"

The gentleman shrugged. "Be my guest."

Ben took the booklet and flipped it open to the back. "I'd actually recommend one our Theme Buffets for what you're talking about. My mom was particularly fond of these, she proposed the gift basket option for the Theme Package and although it costs a little, they tend to generate a lot of raffle ticket sales. Plus, there are occasions in which discounts can be offered for certain types of occasions, so you may want to ask about that as well."

The man touched his chin in thought. "That's quite good thinking, young man. I hadn't even considered that before." He offered his hand. "Thank you very much. What did you say your name was again?"

"Ben Boykewich, Sir."

"Boykewich? As in, The Sausage King?"

"No, that would be me."

Both Ben and the customer looked up at the sound of Leo's voice, who was standing behind the counter with Bunny. Ben motioned his hand, "My dad, Leo Boykewich, The Sausage King."

"Aha!" The man jumped up and shook Leo's hand. "Wonderful! Your son certainly has the genes for the family business! I'd like to take advantage of exactly what he suggested."

Bunny raised a skeptical brow as she eyed Ben. "And that would be?"

"The Theme Package with the Boykewich Basket add-on! It's perfect!"

Leo looked at his son, then back to the customer, and offered his handshake. "We'd love to do business with you then!"

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Hey, you want to get together later and go shopping?

Ricky's eyes swept over the text message that had just come in from Adrian. He fidgeted in the plastic, straight back chair he was seated in and typed back: Can't. Busy. Y would I want 2 go shopping w/ U anyway?

Two minutes later the cell phone vibrated again: It's not just shopping, it's for the baby. I thought you might want be involved.

Ricky slid his hand into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet, which he opened and pulled the sonogram photo out of. He breathed out a little and responded: So does that mean Ben's coming 2? It's not like I have money 2 go spending on U.

The baby and I are not synonymous. And no, I didn't invite Ben.

I already told U I can't. Got plans. TTYL. Ricky shut off his phone and slid it back into his pocket. He took another longing look at the sonogram, then also tucked that into his pocket.

"Richard Underwood?"

Ricky rose, dusted off his slacks, and walked up to the woman who had called his name. He gave her his most charming smile, the one that typically worked on the girls at school and at band camp and where ever else he was at, and offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. And you are?"

The woman looked down her nose at him. "Unimpressed, but fortunately, that means nothing for you, because I'm not the one who makes the hiring and firing decisions." She snapped her fingers, beckoning him to follow her down a long hallway which ended at a dark wood door with a fancy golden nameplate.

Ricky absently straightened his tie while she poked her head into the room and said something he couldn't hear to whomever was behind the door, then he shook himself off and replaced his smile as soon as her eyes were on him again.

"Mr. McIntyre will see you now."

"Thank you." Ricky placed his hand onto the door handle and realized it was shaking, so he grabbed his wrist with the other hand to steady it. "Calm down, act cool," he told himself. Attaching his best smile, he stepped inside and strode confidently towards an elaborate cherry wood desk, where a man in a black suit and tie with slicked back hair was talking into a headset. The teen offered his hand, though the man seemed too busy to take it, and motioned for him to sit down.

Reluctantly, Ricky nodded and seated himself. During the five minutes that followed, he allowed his eyes to prance around the room, which was bare save for the certificates from colleges and achievements.

"So," Mr. McIntyre finally exclaimed when his call ended, "you're here for a job interview?"

"Yes, Sir." Ricky rose again and offered his hand a second time. The man took it, though in Ricky's opinion, it seemed a forced gesture.

Mr. McIntyre ran his fingers over his gelled hair and picked up a piece of paper which Ricky recognized as his resume. "A little young, aren't you?"

"You can never be too young for a job, Sir."

"And your resume's a little short too, isn't it?" He flashed the teenager a shot of the page, which was only a half a page in length. "You have no work experience, your grades are barely above average, and you're just a kid. What makes you think you would be valuable to me?"

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"Who were you texting?" Grace came up to the table with a tray containing a burger, fries, a bottled water, and Adrian's milkshake.

"Nobody," Adrian sighed, taking her milkshake. "Thanks."

"Ricky?" Grace persisted.

"Maybe."

Grace stood up. "I need to use the restroom, can I just leave my purse with you?"

Adrian shook her head in confirmation and looked down at her phone again.

"How far along are you?"

The teen's head snapped up and around in a semicircle to the find a man in the booth behind her staring at her face-to-face. "Who says I'm pregnant?"

"I heard you talking to your friend about it while you were waiting for your order."

Adrian shrugged. "About four-and-a-half months, give or take. Why?"

"Congratulations, you must be so excited. I remember that feeling when my wife was pregnant. Overwhelming joy."

"Yeah, something like that. I suspect it's different when you're married and expecting, as opposed to unexpected teen motherhood."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That must be difficult. Are you adopting?"

"I…haven't made up my mind yet." Adrian spotted Grace heading back to the table and picked up the tray. "I suddenly have a craving for a jar of Dill Pickles, so we should go."

"But I haven't even had a chance to-"

"Dill Pickles! Now!"

"Take care!" the man called.

"Yeah, thanks." She pinched her lips. "You too."

Grace leaned her head close to Adrian's as they left. "Was he hitting on you?"

"No, he was just being a nosy booth neighbor and I hate people nosing into my business. Asshole."

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"I'm impressed with the way you handled Mr. Rivers back there, son."

"I was just giving him some advice," Ben replied. He was staring out of the window of the limo while his father sat on the opposite side of the seat.

"It was good advice, Mr. Rivers walked away from my establishment a very happy man and – I think – he may even think of us in the future if all goes well with the actual catering event."

"That's great."

"I think you have a nose for catering, Benjamin."

"And?"

"And I want to start having you work as an event planner at the butcher shop."

Ben flung his head around. "What? Dad, I don't know about that, I just gave one guy some advice-"

"It's a good way for your to get real life work experience and make a little money as well. You're fifteen now, sixteen this summer, I think it's about time you got a job."

"You really think I'd be good at it?"

"You never know if you don't try. Plus, you can begin saving up to provide for the baby, if you're proven to be the biological father. She's not a rich girl, Adrian, so you're going to have to do your part."

Ben slumped in his seat. "I know that, you've made that very clear to me already. And I've been thinking about that."

"Good, then it's settled, I'll call up Bunny tomorrow and organize her to begin training you and we'll set up some hours for you after school. How's that sound?"

Ben crossed his legs. "Yeah, it sounds alright," he mumbled. "But what happens if I'm not the father? I mean, if Ricky's the father, how do we address the financial burden until the baby's born?"

"You know, I donate a portion of my store's proceeds to good causes every month, Benjamin. If you aren't the father, then think of it as a good cause, because how can helping to support a young mother and her baby in this difficult world be anything other than a good cause?"

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"They're hiring at the food court in the mall," Grace said, looking at the LCD screen on her phone.

"How do you know that?"

"Online classifieds."

"Well there's no way I'm getting a job at the food court and having to wear one of those hideous outfits. They look like clowns."

"What about Borders? You like books."

"They're hiring?"

"I don't see a listing, but it's worth checking out. It's a great environment and," she flashed a cheeky smile, "I could have an excuse to pop in and see you every day!"

"Oh joy!" Adrian replied in a sarcastic singsong voice. She adjusted her rearview mirror. "Hey, uh, Grace…speaking of being around you all the time, what are you doing this evening?"

"I don't really have any plans, why?"

"Would you be interested in a sleepover?"

"Do you have an ulterior motive?"

Adrian tapped the brake. "Why would you assume that?"

"You've never struck me as the sleepover type."

"Boy, you are becoming less naive hanging around me, aren't you?" She grabbed for her sunglasses clipped to the rearview mirror and slipped them on. "Alright, my house still reeks of smoke from the pancake fiasco the other day and I don't really want to be around my mother and George while they're sorting out their infidelity issues. Is that ulterior enough for you?"

"I'm sorry," Grace exhaled. "I didn't mean to sound rude. Of course you can sleepover! I need to get permission from my mom first, but I'm sure she won't mind. Oh! And I forgot to tell her about Dad going out of town." She dipped into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, hitting her second speed dial.

"You have your mother on speed dial?"

"Don't you?"

"Ha!"

"Mom, hey! It's me, Grace."

"Like she doesn't know who her own daughter is," Adrian whispered.

Grace waved her hand to silence her friend. "No, everything's fine, we just went out for a snack. Hey, I was wondering if Adrian could stay over tonight?" The cheerleader nodded to herself. "Alright, great! Oh, and Dad told me to tell you that he's going to Palo Alto and – oh, you already got his message when you got home? Okay, alright. Thanks! Bye!"

"So we're good?"

"My mom said that would be fine and that she's just starting on dinner. It's her homemade mac n' cheese! It's amazing, she makes it from a scratch recipe with sour cream and, oh, it's sooo good! And she's making Baked Alaska for dessert."

"Sour cream? Really?"

"Don't judge it until you've tried it! You'll love it, I swear!"

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"How did the job interview go?" Margaret inquired as her son came in.

Ricky tore off his tie and tossed it over the back of the chair as he sat down at the dinner table across from his foster father.

"That good, huh?" Sanjay Shakur, though he went by his last name, asked.

"The only way it could've been worse is if they'd dug up my records."

"You're not a criminal, Ricky, you have nothing to hide." Shakur pushed the gravy boat across the table as his wife brought over a giant bowl of homemade mashed potatoes. "There's always tomorrow. But I'm proud of you for going out there and trying today."

"I suppose there's always McDonald's," Ricky scoffed as he slopped some mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"Don't be like that, son. You're a good young man with a hard work ethic, just look at what you've done throughout the years while you've been in our home with the younger foster children."

"Maybe that's something to look into?" Margaret suggested. "Something in childcare. It would also serve as a good refresher course for when the baby arrives."

"I'm sure any parent would love to have a sexually abused teenager who's going to therapy taking care of their kids all day." He stabbed his fork into some honey home and then poured a lake of gravy over everything on his plate.

Margaret took her place at the table, seated between her husband and her son. She began layering her plate with spoonfuls of lemon pepper green beans. "Have you spoken with Adrian today? How are she and the baby doing?"

"Just a text message, she asked about shopping, but I don't have any money for that. I guess they're fine though."

Margaret and Shakur eyed each other across the table.

"What? What are you two doing?" Ricky pointed his finger between them. "I don't like when you do that, it's rude."

Shakur reached around to the back of his chair where his coat was draped and pulled out his wallet. From inside, he retrieved a hundred and passed it across the table to Ricky. "Why don't you take Adrian up on that offer?"

Ricky firmly shook his head and pushed the money back. "Nope. This isn't your baby and it's not your responsibility. It might not even be mine, so I won't have you paying for me."

"It's not up for debate, Ricky." Margaret pushed the money back. "Whether or not the baby is yours anyway is irrelevant. We work in Social Services and we know that every little bit helps, so we're happy to do this for Adrian."

"It's charity. I don't want your charity. And I don't think Adrian would either."

"It's not charity, it's a gift," Shakur argued. "Now take the money and spend a little time with Adrian. End of discussion." He looked to his wife. "How was your day at work?"

Ricky bitterly picked the bill of the table and slipped it into his pocket as his parents began a new conversation. As much as he hated the idea of taking their money, the idea of being able to spend a little quality time with Adrian – without Ben – was a motivating thought. He excused himself from the table.

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Adrian fidgeted beneath Grace's cotton pink covers. Everything about the cheerleader's bed was all from, from the virgin girliness of the sheets to the fact that the mattress itself was far too lumpy, which Grace claimed as cushy. In fact, she figured she was likely to be more comfortable on the floor in Grace's sleeping bad, but Grace had insisted that as her guest – a pregnant guest at that – she had to take the bed.

She heard a low rumbling sound in the darkness around eleven, give or take. Being the night owl that she was, Adrian was still wide awake with her head sunken into Grace's useless feather pillow, that only served to poke her and give her no head support whatsoever. The blonde, however, was fast asleep, and the Bowman residence was unsettlingly quiet save for the rumble. Silently, Adrian rolled over to the edge of the bed and reached for her purse, managing to get it with the tip of her nail after three tries. She pulled it onto the bed and ducked under the covers as the LCD screen lit up.

2morrow. 6PM. The mall. Don't B late.

Adrian rolled over and hugged her cell to her chest. If only she could pass the time by sleeping, but there was no way she could now, she was far too happy to sleep. Instead she accessed the mall website from her phone, her mind already plotting all the places that they could go.