A/N: As a way of apologizing for the update dry spell, I'm giving you an extra chapter.

Turning Tables

Money For Nothing, Chicks For A Fee

"Um, am I wrong, or did I just see you over there talking to Jack?" Adrian asked as Grace walked up to her locker.

"He wanted me to buy his candy bar," Grace sighed.

"And is that a euphemism for something?"

Grace rolled her eyes and produced an actual bar of chocolate from her backpack. "No, I'm being quite literal, thank you."

"Which majorette is he 'dating' in order to make you jealous to be selling those?"

Grace stared, befuddled. "What?"

Adrian snatched the candy out of Grace's hand and inspected it. "Before I had to quit the team, we were selling these in order to raise money to go to Washington D.C. next year."

Grace shook her head. "No, no. Jack's selling these to help out a boy he's mentoring for Big Brothers, Big Sisters."

"And you bought that?" Adrian chuckled.

"It was only five dollars!"

"No, I didn't mean the candy, I meant – wait, what? Five dollars? We only sold ours for two-fifty!"

"But this is for Disadvantaged Youth!" Grace protested. "It's a good cause, Adrian!"

"If that's the scam you wanna fall for, then fine," Adrian replied. "But I don't have five dollars. Or two-fifty. Yet."

"Yet?" Grace probed, intrigued by the allure in the elder girl's voice.

Adrian grinned. "Yet!" she repeated gleefully. "But I might, soon. I got a called for an interview on one of the applications I submitted last week!"

"Adrian, that's great!" The cheerleader squealed, jumping up and down like a bouncy ball. "Oh! I'm so happy for you!"

"Don't get too excited," the Latina warned. "Once he sees this," she patted her bulging belly, "the job may be out the window."

"They can't fire you for being pregnant," Grace frowned.

"Sure they can, they just have to call it something else. And trust me, there are plenty of ways to do it."

TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT

Ben sat alone in the back seat of the Boykewich family limo, backpack on the opposite seat and Ashley's voice recorder in his lap, with two waxy white wires coming off of the side, connecting a pair of earphones to his ears. He'd put off his homework the night before to start the recordings and had eventually stayed up nearly all night long listening until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. There were literally hours of footage.

The tape began with crying. Hours of crying. It was Amy, of course. Who else could it be? He knew the sound of her choked sobs and it killed him inside. Sometimes there were be strange changes in the sound of the sobs or the background, which made Ben suspect that many different fits of sobbing had been recorded at different times, on the tails of one another. At one point, he had even begun to wonder if maybe that was the only thing on the tape.

Then he heard the first notes of music. No lyrics, just music, played on – of course – the French Horn. The first song had been almost laughably cliché, if he hadn't just listened to the previous footage. It was epic and familiar: "My Heart Will Go On," classic romantic heartbreak, Titanic. He'd never heard something played with so much passion before, least of all on a French Horn.

The second song was even worse, despite being a happy song. It was the French Horn version of Cole Porter's "I Love You," the same song they had shared their first dance to that night at the church gym after Adrian had cornered him at the refreshments table. He'd promptly forgotten all about Adrian when Amy had been wound up in his gangly arms, slow dancing to: "'I love you,' that's the song of songs…and it all belongs, to you and me."

After that, there had been hours worth of songs that he didn't recognize, though a handful vaguely tickled his recognition. He wanted to say maybe Beethoven or Strauss or Mozart, but he wasn't completely sure. But he listened to them anyway, because they were Amy, and they were beautiful kind of tragic.

The one he was listening to now was from Disney. He hadn't recognized it immediately, but it had plagued him until he'd realized it was from Hercules. Now, as he listened to it again, he could see the starry sky that Hercules was starring into as he sang, "I Can Go the Distance." Ben remembered watching it when he was younger and being able to relate.

"Ben!"

The shout, combined with the forceful thumping on the glass that separated the driver from the passengers, finally stolen Ben's attention away over the sound of the French Horn. He tore out his earphones to find his driver staring at him.

"What're you listening to on there anyway, Ben? I've been trying to get your attention for three minutes!"

Ben felt his face heat up. "Sorry, I…it's just something a – a friend gave me."

"Must be really good."

"Good at something," Ben sighed. He grabbed his backpack by the right strap and pushed open the limo door. "Thanks for the ride."

"Always."

He tossed his backpack over his arm as he headed for the Grant High double doors. If there was ever something he could do for a friend, he tried his best to do it. That had always been his philosophy and wasn't Amy his friend? That's what she had said she wanted to be, after she found out about Adrian and the baby. Even if she wasn't talking to him, that didn't mean he didn't continue caring about her.

On the other side of the coin, there was Adrian. He was something to Adrian too. Maybe not a friend, exactly. Not a lover nor an ex either, in the conventional way. But still something. And he knew he cared about her as well, though not in the same way. Because of that, Ashley's confrontation had kept him rattled all night.

"You look bummed," Alice said as Ben approached his locker.

"My life was so much easier when I was single."

"You are single," Henry pointed out.

"Yeah, but not really. Not with an ex-girlfriend who I still care about and a maybe baby on the way."

"Wait, I'm confused," Henry frowned. "You're moping about Amy again? I thought you were all excited about Adrian?"

Ben placed his palm against his forehead. "I've gotten used to the idea that Adrian's baby might be mine," he explained curtly. "But that doesn't mean-"

"Something happened," Alice interrupted with a squinted glare. "What happened?"

Ben groaned. "Ashley came to see me last night."

"Oh, this can't be good," Henry groaned.

"Why?" Alice probed, ignoring her boyfriend.

"To tell me to get back together with Amy." Ben held up his finger, silencing Alice's response. "And I know, it's irrational and not really my place, but…"

"But what?"

"I – I just need to see her now."

"Ben-"

"I know I've got too much on my plate as it is," he cut in, "but Amy's still…Amy. She's still my first girlfriend and she's still someone I care about and she's going through a really bad patch right now."

"So are you!"

"Yeah, but my dad didn't choose to leave me." Ben shut his locker and looked in the direction of the band room. "I'll see you guys later, okay?" Without waiting around for either of them to answer, he took off towards the band room. It was empty save for a lone clarinet player putting away her instrument. Looking at the cubbies, he knew that Amy hadn't been by with her French Horn yet, so he waited around for another five minutes after the clarinet player left and was almost about to leave himself when Amy hobbled in, hair mussed and carrying dark bags under her eyes.

"B-Ben?" she stuttered, stalling in the doorway upon seeing him.

"Hey," he smiled, recalling all those mornings at the beginning of the year when he'd met her at the band room.

"H-hi," she sputtered, lugging her French Horn case over to the cubbies.

"Let me help," Ben said, not giving her a choice. He took the French Horn case and lifted it into the cubby. When he turned back to her, he noticed confusion speckled across her face. "What? It's not like I haven't done this before."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, "you just usually struggle when you're doing it."

Ben chuckled, even though she didn't. Then his mind flashed back to Adrian's abduction, when he'd struggled to carry her out of the trunk and back to D.A. Enriquez's car. In comparison, a French Horn case seemed like nothing. "Guess I've grown a little."

"Yeah."

"How are you?"

Amy shook her head and looked to her sneakers. "F – fine."

"You're lying. You always stutter when you lie." Ben moved closer to her. "Come on, Amy. Talk to me, please?"

"I – I can't."

Ben let his hand inch closer to hers and grasped it loosely. "Yes you can. I still care about you and I hate to see you in so much pain. You need someone to talk to. Just – just let me be your friend."

"You're right," she agreed. "I do need someone to talk to. Someone impartial. So it can't be you. I'm sorry, Ben. I still care about you too, but you're too tied up in this. If it were anyone but Adrian…but, it's not." She tugged her hand out of his.

Ben hedged her off as she tried to duck for the door. "Amy-"

"I've said all I want to say, Ben. Just leave me alone, okay?" Looking to the right to avoid his eyes she said, "Let me go."

Ben felt his heart drop to his feet. He thought she looked so shrunken and small and in that second, all he wanted to do was hug her and promise her the world. Instead, he stepped aside and watched her leave without looking back. He stood there for a while, as a few other kids trickled in and out, then he turned and walked deeper into the band room. He'd never been that far in before, but in the back, it contained a full classroom, complete with a whiteboard off to the side. Ben moved to the whiteboard and moved his hand along the tray until he found a red marker and carried it back to the cubby wall. Reaching his arm up to Amy's French Horn case he began to write against the metal rim in red ink. The song of songs: it belongs to you and me.

TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT

After school, Adrian's apple red convertible pulled up in front of a small building with a smooth black sign above the door, accented with swirling silver calligraphy. She looked to her blonde friend who sat in the passenger seat. "This is it!"

Grace's face dropped. "You're working at a place called Chic Chop?"

Adrian guffawed. "No, not chop, it's pronounced shop, like chic! But they're both spelt with the 'ch,' get it?"

Grace illustrated one of the best fake smiles Adrian had ever seen. "Clever."

"Whatever," the Latina sighed. "Just wait for me, okay? You want to browse while I'm doing the interview?"

Grace shrugged. "Sure!"

"Great." Adrian parked the convertible and glanced at the gas gage before getting out. It was nearly on empty. She'd noticed it that morning, but had resisted the urge to ask her mother for cash, as the latter was still in a mood because she had found the bassinet that George helped her to assemble – though he had done most of the work – in her room. Her mother's anger over the bassinet seemed just a tad extreme, so she'd decided not to push buttons by asking for money. "God, I need this job," she whispered under her breath.

Inside the store the floors were wood and lined – seamlessly no less – with straight rows of silver racks, each containing exactly the same amount of hangers holding up shiny and sparkly outfits, without a wrinkle or misplacement to be seen. The air conditioning was also on, even though it was the end of February. Adrian was thankful for the long sleeved baby doll she was wearing: firstly, because it was warm, secondly, because it hid the goose bumps that had she could feel rising on her arms.

"It looks…nice." Grace squirmed beside Adrian, clearly out of her realm of comfort.

"I hope it won't take too long." The Latina strode up to the counter and pressed her palms to the edge, tapping it with her manicured nails. Several minutes passed before a slender five foot eleven girl with ink black hair and spiked silver heels walked out from the back room. She paused in the doorway, looking Adrian up and down – at least as far as the counter would allow, which basically stopped beneath her breasts – and only then walked up to her. "How can I help you?" she asked, raising a painted on eyebrow.

Adrian bit her tongue and forced a smile. "I have a job interview scheduled for three, with Mr. Lentz."

A small puff of air hit Adrian's forehead as the girl did something halfway between a snort and a scoff. She pointed a silver manicured nail towards a door that read Employees Only. "He's expecting you."

"Muchas gracias," Adrian replied with an air of sarcasm as she headed for the door. From her peripheral vision, she could see the girl staring gawky eyed at her stomach as she stepped away from the counter. Trying to ignore the girl's stalking eyes, she opened the employee door and stepped into a small hallway. She looked both ways, then realized another door to her right had the name Francis Lentz on the silver label. Adrian cautiously raised her fist to the door and gently rapped it.

"Come in!"

Swallowing her insecurities, Adrian pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was even colder in the office than it was in the main store. The office was bright, though windowless, the light being courtesy of the slim silver lamps on either side of the oak desk at the back of the room, which a man with a tight bald head sat behind. Adrian took him in as she approached: young, expensive suit like the ones sold in the front if not better, and when he stood up, tall.

"Ms. Lee," Mr. Lentz smiled, extending his hand.

"Mr. Lentz," Adrian returned, extending her hand simultaneously.

"You're even more lovely than the head shot on your résumé led me to believe."

Adrian felt her cheeks warm as she sat down. Her mind whirred as he began to talk, but she wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. Her mind was still on the fact that he had noted her beauty and not her pregnancy.

"I noticed your résumé doesn't list any work experience."

Adrian squirmed against the back of her chair. "This would be my first job, officially. But I'm competent," she added quickly. "As you can see, I have a perfect GPA, I take multiple advanced placement courses, and I've been involved in extracurricular activities for years."

Mr. Lentz nodded, his eyes moving quickly back and forth in their sockets as he folded his hands in front of himself. "May I ask you something then?"

"Of course," Adrian smiled. "That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

Mr. Lentz nodded smoothly. "If you were money, what would you be?"

Adrian felt her mind spinning out like it had just hit black ice. What the hell type of question is that? The tips of her manicure burrowed into the flesh of her palms as she feigned a smile, flipping through a mental rolodex of world currencies. "Easy," she blurted out, "a golden family heirloom." She mentally noted the rising of the man's brows. "Even as the price of the dollar or Euros or pesos fluctuate, gold is always extremely valuable, and as an heirloom, it's valuable both as physical collateral and emotionally priceless. It's also probably not the answer you were expecting, because like a family heirloom, I'm unconventional, though still extremely valuable."

"Impressive," Mr. Lentz smirked. "Very impressive." He tapped his fingers on his right hand to the palm of his left, like someone clapping at a pretentious play. "I've never had such a unique answer to that question."

Adrian pursed her lips. "So does that mean I passed?"

"Absolutely! I ask because I want to test those who want to work for me," he explained. "I want to see how fast they can think on their feet and to see their creativity before my eyes. You, my dear, have passed with gold star."

Adrian resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his cheesy pun. "Thank you."

"When can you start?"

"If I recall, you're open Saturdays but not Sundays. I have a family engagement scheduled for this evening, but I could start as early as tomorrow, if that would work with you."

"I look forward to seeing you."

Adrian offered her hand again. "Thank you. Both for the interview and the job. I really look forward to working with you."

"And I you, Miss Lee." Mr. Lentz kissed the back of Adrian's hand. "Until tomorrow."

Adrian took her hand back. "Yeah…until tomorrow." She left the office quickly and when she returned to the front of the store, she found Grace there alone, evidently the woman who had come out from the back room had gone back to it. She skipped over to her friend, threw her arm around Grace's shoulders, and directed her towards the door. As soon as they were a safe distance away she announced, "I got it!"

"You did?" Grace squeaked. She threw her arm around Adrian's neck and resumed classic Grace happy bouncing. "Congratulations!" With sparkling gray eyes she added, "And hopefully the customer service will improve dramatically with you on the staff."

Adrian's eyes darkened. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, that girl who came out when you went up to the counter? As soon as you left, all she did was pop a piece of gum in her mouth and disappear back to wherever she came from. Talk about rude!"

Adrian scowled as she climbed into the driver's side. "Maybe that's why he's hiring?" she suggested. "He needs a replacement."

"We should celebrate!" Grace cheered. "Wanna come over to my house? We-"

"Can't. I've got the reveal party today, remember? Ricky and Ben are coming over with their parents to find out the sex of the baby."

"Oh." Grace's face dulled a little. "Well, congratulations. And, uh, just text me when you get the chance, I can't wait to find out how to theme the baby shower!"

"The baby shower?"

"Well you didn't think I was going to let you go through your pregnancy without throwing a baby shower, did you?"

"It's not like I have any friends besides you to come to one anyway."

Grace waved her hand dismissively. "Shh. You just leave that to me!"

Adrian revved the engine. "Sure, Grace. I – thanks."

Grace was practically bubbling over in the passenger seat. "You're welcome!"

TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT

"I took off early to pick up the cake from the baker's, but don't worry, I'll be out of your hair in just a few minutes," George said as Adrian stepped through the front door.

Adrian zeroed in on the pink bakery box on the table and darted for it. "Oh my god!" she breathed. "I completely forgot about it!"

"I know," he laughed. "I called to make sure someone had picked it up and when they said it was still there, I figured it had slipped either yours or your mother's mind…especially in the mood she's in right now."

Adrian suddenly had an overwhelming urge to throw her arms around her mother's boyfriend. "Thank you!" Silently, she thought of the hormones and her blamed them for being overly gushy. Then she turned to the cake box and flipped open the lid. It was a cylindrical cake, with domed top, covered in cheerful yellow frosting with rotating pink and blue stripes up the sides, which culminated into an intricate design of pink and blue icing at the top so that the cake was designed to look like a yellow present wrapped in pink and blue ribbons. "It's perfect!"

George nodded. "Save me a piece."

Adrian tapped the table with one nail. "You – you could stay, if you wanted."

George shook his head. "This is only for family. And I'm not technically family. But thanks for the offer. Anyway, I'm gonna take Ashley and Amy out tonight. Hopefully we can work on our relationship."

Adrian nodded. "Good luck."

"You too. Congratulations, on whatever it is."

"Thanks, George."

Adrian lifted the cake out of the box and set it in the middle of the table, set the box in the kitchen, and then began to maneuver around, gathering plates and silverware first, then pulling out a large crystal bowl from under the cupboard, rinsing it out, and setting it on the table beside the cake. She filled it with a mixture of a can of thawed orange juice concentrate, a can of pineapple juice, a two liter bottle of lemon-lime soda, and stirred it with a matching crystal ladel. Finally, she topped it off with several scoops of orange sherbet which lobbed around in the punch mix like they were apples ready to be bobbed for.

By the time she'd tossed the empty cans and bottles into the recycle bin, put away the remaining sherbet, and set out the plastic cups, the doorbell finally rang. Adrian looked down at her clothes, the same ones she'd worn to the interview. She hadn't intended to wear them for the party, but now it was too late to change. She quickly smoothed her shirt and moved to the door. With a deep breath, she opened it to find Ben and Leo.

"Hey," Ben greeted cheerfully.

"I'm glad you could make it," Adrian said, peeling open the door so that they could step inside. "Uh, it's not really that festive," she said awkwardly, "but the refreshments are over there. I have some cheese and crackers in the fridge too that my mother made. I'll get those out-"

"I can get them," Ben offered, quickly heading for the kitchen.

"Thank you for having us over," Leo smiled as Adrian shut the door. "It means a lot to us – especially me, since you didn't have to invite the family – that you're doing this."

"Well I equally appreciate you coming and you're continued support. This hasn't been easy for anyone and there are a lot of people out there who would've never supported their child at all, let alone someone like me…in a situation like this."

Leo looked to the table, where Ben was setting out Cindy's tray of cheeses, crackers, and salami slices. "That reminds me, if you're interested, I have someone out in the parking lot right now – just a phone call away – ready to bring in some hot food from my butcher shop. Don't feel obligated, though. I didn't want to steal anyone's thunder, since I wasn't sure what you'd have here."

Adrian shook her head. "That would be great!"

Leo nodded and stepped aside, pulling out his cell phone.

"The cake looks great," Ben said as he stopped beside Adrian. "And the punch," he lifted a plastic cup, "it's amazing! What's the recipe?"

"It's just something my mom used to make for me when I was a kid. I can write it down for you if you really want it."

Ben nodded enthusiastically. "That would be perfect."

Adrian smiled in spite of herself. He was so cute in such a dorky, annoying, and yet somehow still very endearing sort of way. He was still exactly the same guy she had sought out at the majorette retreat, but paradoxically, he was also a brand new person. She had yet to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The sound of a key in the door caught all three pairs of eyes in the room and Adrian looked, expecting to see her mother come in. Instead, she was shocked to see Ricky, followed by Margaret and Shakur, and finally her mother.

"Sorry I'm late," Cindy announced, red faced. "There was road construction on the way home."

"We're all here now, that's what's important," Shakur said, his Indian accent oddly calming. He looked around the house. "You have a very lovely home, Ms. Lee."

"Thank you," Cindy nodded.

Adrian massaged the thumb in her throat with her fingertips. Somehow it was always more uncomfortable each time they had the triad of family meetings. "Well, since everyone's here…who wants cake?"

A murmur spread across the room which prompted Cindy to move into the kitchen and retrieve a knife from the drawer, which she handed to her daughter at the table. She laid a comforting hand on Adrian's shoulder as the latter turned to face the cake.

Adrian felt her hand quiver as she penetrated the carefully crafted icing with the knife. One slit down. Lifting the knife again, she pushed it down the other side, creating an ideal cake triangle. Then, hand still shaking, she slid the knife beneath the cake as Cindy offered her a plate and lifted the slice onto the paper plate. Adrian felt her heart stop for a moment and when she swiveled her head to Ben and Ricky, she was pretty sure theirs had too, for they were both utterly transfixed on the fluffy innards of the cake, sporting a rich dark pink.