OK, firstly I wanna apologize. I said I was gonna take a little break to study for an upcoming Spanish test and project but... I don't know! I have no excuse, I was just procrastinating! Sorry for the long delay in updating, but I'm back now and I'll try to keep up with the story updates! But it's better to take long with a chapter and make it as best as it can be than just updating "hot-off-the-press" work just for the sake of updating, right? Well, once again, I'm really sorry for the long pause. Here's a little update of the story so far: Posy's grandpa has died and they are getting ready for the funeral now. I hope you guys like it. Enjoy! :]

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson & the Olympians or the characters in it.

Chapter 5

Posy's POV

Ever had that feeling when you're about to put a huge, tasty, hot slice of your favorite pizza into your mouth and then you just miss your mouth or it falls into your lap and then you get all disappointed or embarrassed like you just missed out on something reallycool or like you failed a test or something? Or is it just me, because I'm clumsy like that? Anyway, I had that feeling for days after grandpa died, it's not even funny. I know, it sounds like I'm describing a breakup, but my guess is that the feelings are basically the same; you literally feel like a big chunk of you is missing or like it's been snatched away.

Today is day four of my family's mourning and I think we're all on different stages of the whole Kubler-Ross five stages of grief-thingymabobber; Dad's on the anger stage ("Why'd it have to be him? Of all people!"), Mom is on the denial stage ("This is not happening. This is not happening."), and so is Frankie, and Peter and I are pretty much on the depression stage. I got up at nine this morning, waaaaaay later than normal, even for grieving. Waking up has been hard lately and sometimes Mom doesn't even walk out of her room.

We had to give her breakfast in their instead of the kitchen. Dad's behavior hasn't changed much, but he's talking less. Same with Peter. Frankie is... I actually don't know what's up with Frankie. He looks like he's sad, but he's going about as normal; playing video games and watching TV and eating like normal, acting like nothing's happened. But we know he's having a hard time, too.

I couldn't sleep well last night, I kept tossing and turning and lying awake in bed and wandering around partly because I missed grandpa and partly because of nightmares and partly just because I needed to pee. I was planning on just staying in bed all day, but I have the worst room in the house; it's up front so the sun hits my window first and the light ends up on my bed. So I have to wake up so I can adjust the curtains and get the sun out of my eyes, but the time that's done, I'm wide awake and there's no point in going back to bed.

I didn't bother with my hair when I woke up. I sort of of just made sure it wasn't sticking up and then walked downstairs. Peter was at the table with a forgotten mug of coffee laying snug between his hands. He was just staring down into it, probably wishing he could drown in it. I've never heard of "death by coffee", so Peter could be the first one. You never know. He looked up when I walked into the kitchen. Well, actually, he sort of jumped when he saw me, like the way toast pops up when it's done toasting. His eyes were red and he started wiping away a few stray tears, obviously trying to hide the fact that he was crying. Poor Peter. I feel more sorry for him; he never had the chance to talk to grandpa like I did before he died.

"Posy!" he said. "I didn't hear you walk in." He takes a sip of the coffee, but then makes a face and then pushes it away. Peter loves coffee. His pushing it away worried me a little.

"Where's Dad?" I asked, taking a seat.

"He went over to the church to ask about a funeral. Mom went with him to pick out a casket and, you know, dead-people stuff," he answered. "You couldn't sleep." It was statement, not a question. I just nodded.

"How'd you know?" I asked him.

He pointed to my face. "You have bags under your eyes."

"Oh." Funny, though; I didn't feel that tired. In fact, I had a lot of energy; I just wasn't interested in using that energy for anything.

"Anyway," Peter said. "What are you going to do today?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'll catch up on a little school work or... something. You?"

He shrugged, too. "I don't know, either. I guess I'll get started on those funeral invitations and call up the rest of the family. Maybe. Mom said that I have to say one of the eulogies, too. That should be fun."

"So you're going to talk in front of everyone?" He nodded. Peter was never any good at public speaking. I was going to talk again, but before I could let a word out of my mouth, Willow jumped up on the table, meowing. Peter moved the food away from the hungry feline. "Willow! Down!" He tried waving his hand at him, trying to make him jump back down. I put my hand up to stop him.

"Don't hurt him!" I said. I picked Willow up and hugged him to my chest like a baby. "You need to calm down," I said to Peter. "And you," I said, directed at the white cat in my arms. "You need to stop climbing up on the furniture." Willow licked his cat-lips.

I just wanted food,he said with his brown cat eyes as I walked over to the living room and sat down. Willow didn't leave my lap as I sat and thought about who I'd invite to the funeral; Ariel and Lauren were definitely coming, and maybe Min. I haven't known her long, but I guess it'd be okay to invite her. And Robbie, too. Willow meowed again and rubbed his head against my arm.

I ran my fingers across his soft milky-white fur and he looked up at me with his brown eyes. Brown, almost intoxicating, eyes. Like two marbles, more likely, with one black dot in the middle of each as his pupil, and it sent a shock through me. I held his face to look at his eyes better. I knew someone else with brown eyes, just like Willow's.

Nico, I thought. Truth be told, I almost forgot about my Italian demigod friend with the sword and leather jacket. I was mad at him a little, yeah, but I guess I was so caught up in my misery that I'd forgotten that I was mad at him. I was never good at holding grudges, anyway. They've always been too tiring for me. I let go of Willow and he jumped off my lap and back into th kitchen just as Frankie was walking out. He held up some envelopes.

"These are the funeral invitations," he said. "Me and Peter printed them up just now. Here's a few." He tossed me a couple envelopes and I caught them before they could fall on the carpet. I held them in my hands, and felt the crisp white paper. It was a little see-through and I could see Grandpa's name on the paper: Richard Orson Wilshire. I took out a pen and started labeling the envelopes: Ariel Joyner, Lauren Hall, Min Yang, Robbie Stein, and Nico di Angelo. Five people.

I got up from the couch and went upstairs to change into something... well, something that I'd wear in public. I settled on a simple pair of jeans and too-big-for-me sweater the color of a rusty wrench. Where'd I even get that sweater? The first thing I remembered when I got outside my house and walked about three blocks is that it's Thursday, it's 10 AM, and all the people I'm going to invite will be in school right now. Typical of me to forget something like that. I was too far, and, what the hey, I needed to get out the house anyway. It can't be healthy to stay indoors for so long.

After dawdling for a while, I decided to start with Knox Prep. It was closer anyway and it'll be good to get these invitation things over with. Ariel and Lauren were easy to find; they were in their usual spot near the bottom of the steps leading up to the school. I walked over to them and Lauren noticed me first; her eye got all big when she saw me and for a minute I hoped that my hair looked okay. She walked up to meet me.

"What are you wearing?" she asked me, looking down at my atrocious sweater. "Are you wearing Frankie's clothes?" Hmm, maybe that's where the sweater came from. I don't know why, but I felt a compelling need to defend it.

"It doesn't look that bad," I said, pulling down on the sleeve.

"'That bad?' It looks like a brick with armsayes and a hole for your head!"

"No, it doesn't," I said again. Ariel finally came and interrupted the conversation, but of course after she makes a sly comment on my sweater, too. My friends are the best, aren't they?

"Ha ha ha, very funny," I said, fingering the envelopes. "So, um. How much did did I miss in English class?" Ariel shook her head.

"A lot," she answered. "We started learning about the history of the English language, read a little Beowulf, a little Romeo and Juliet, and Greek mythology. Got a new project coming up, too. And you misses Mr. Freeman's very inspirational monologue about the Civil War; the union, the confederacy, thewholeenchilada. It was very moving." I liked Ariel; she was funny.

"So, um, how's your family doing?" Lauren asked me, referring to our very recent loss of life. "Everyone okay?" I started wringing my wrists.

"They're doing fine, I guess. Well, fine for a mourning family, at least no one's thought about suicide yet or revenge or anything like that. Mostly, we're just sad."

"Aw, I'm really sorry," Lauren said. Ariel, too, extended her condolences. "So when's the funeral?"

"That's what I stopped by for," I said, bringing out the envelopes. I handed them one each, and then they switched because I had accidentally handed them the wrong ones. Oops.

"Do we have to wear black?" Lauren asked me as I was about to leave.

"What?"

"Black. Do we have to wear black?"

"Why would you have to wear black?"

"Well, duh, it's a funeral. Don't people usually wear black at funerals?"

"Umm, I don't know. Wear what you want, I guess."

"But I bought this really cute black jacket that I've always wanted to wear and it would be perfect with-"

"Okay! Then wear black. I thought that was just in movies."

"But movies usually reflect real life, don't they?"

"Do they?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, then. Hey, have you guys seen Min Yang or Robert Stein? I have to give them these invites, too."

"I didn't know you talked to Min and Robert." Ariel said. "But anyway, I think Min is at a Debate Team meeting so Robert should be there, too. They're, like, always together. I think they're cousins."

"I guess I'll give it to them later, then." I said. Just as I was about to leave again, Lauren pulled me back.

"Guess what?" she said.

"What?" Lauren was really big on gossip, especially school gossip. She never missed a beat and nothing goes on in Knox Prep without her knowing.

"You know that guy whose locker is next to yours?"

I gulped. I knew exactly who she was talking about. "You mean Landon Hunter? What about him?"

"Well," Lauren had a huge smile plastered onto her face. "I know you guys are all sad about the funeral and stuff, but I couldn't hold it in so sorry if this is a bad time, but you know me. Anyway, Landon came up to me yesterday and asked about you."

"He did?" I was actually more surprised than excited, like the way I thought I would if Landon ever asked about me.

"Yupp. I told him about your situation and he said that he's really worried about you and wants to extend his sympathies. He also said that he wants to see you when you get back in school. If I knew you were coming today I would have told him. Sorry."

"No, that's okay," I said. Landon Hunter wants to see me? I wonder what for. Probably he's worried about the "situation" ruining his plans on getting my mom's catering business to help out at the dance. "Anything else?"

"Just one more thing: who's Nico di Angelo?" That question caught me by surprise.

"W-What?" I asked.

"Nico di Angelo; who is he? It is a he, right?"

"What? Of course it's a he."

"Just making sure. you can never tell these days. But anyway, who is he?"

"How do you know about Nico?" I got scared. What exactly did she know about Nico? Did she know that he was a demigod? Did I accidentally tell her or something?

"Well, you wrote his name on that envelope there. Who's Nico di Angelo? Is he one of your cousins? How come I've never met him?" Ariel butts in.

"Lauren, stop interrogating her! I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation on who he is and right now she just needs to get this invitation to him. Right, Posy?"

"Yeah," It's times like these that I really love my friend, Ariel. "So I'll talk to you later. I'll call you or something. Bye!"

I started walking away and this time Lauren doesn't pull em back. When I got a few steps away, I overheard Lauren talking to Ariel again, still on the topic of Nico. I wish they'd just drop it.

"Maybe he's her secret boyfriend and she just doesn't want us to know because she doesn't know what we'll think of him. It's plausible!"

Nico's POV

Isn't it ironic that teachers tell kids that they should save trees by using less paper, and then assign you, like, 10-pages essays or tests with, like, 50 questions? Seriously, teachers should just make up their minds; do they want to save trees or not? If they do, then they should stop assigning work that uses up so much paper, it's killing trees and it's going against what they believe. I'm right, right?

I don't even know how those thoughts came to me as I sat there in my last class of the day, staring at the sheet of paper explaining our next assignment. We had to write an essay comparing and contrasting Mercutio and Benvolio and it had to be four to five pages long. Mercutio gets killed by Tybalt and Benvolio doesn't; there you have it.

Seriously, school could be so much simpler if it were up to me. I looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be as bored as I was; a couple kids in the corner were chewing gum and doodling, some other kids were asleep, a few were texting under their desk, I even locked eyes with this one girl whom I caught staring at me. I smiled nervously and she turned away.

I looked at the clock.

It's 2:19.

Eleven minutes until the bell rings.

And I can get out of here.

I didn't have much to look forward to today because I didn't have anything planned. Most of my friends were out with the flu, it's been spreading in this school and I'm trying hard not to catch it. Thankfully, I didn't have detention today; I got to all my classes on time and I was still worried about that dream I had. Not that worried, but worried enough to not act up in class, but also worried enough to fall behind in the work.

I didn't even know whether I should be worried about this dream; I'm not usually the one with dreams, that's usually Percy. But dreams are just dreams, right? Images that land in our minds as we're sleeping and they're normally nothing more than that. But I guess that's just the problem: I'm not normal.NORMAL people dream about, I don't know, sugarplums dancing in their head, and shiny vampires, movies they wanna get at the video store and lottery numbers.

But non-normal people, like me, never have normal dreams like sugarplums and lotto numbers. Our dreams are always long and lucid and prophetic and they're never just dreams. They come to you for a reason.

I've never really been resentful of my being a demigod, but sometimes it'd be nice to actually be normal for once. Don't get me wrong, being half god has it's perks, but sometimes when you're a demigod you miss out on normal things. Speaking of missing things, I wondered what happened to Posy. Last I saw her she was begging me to help her grandpa or something. It'd been almost a week and I still hadn't seen her or heard from her. Another thing to add to my list of worries. I made a mental note in my mind to try and see her soon.

Wait, why would I want to see Posy? The last time we talked she yelled at me and I didn't think we'd be on speaking terms after that. I practically told her that I didn't care and walked away. Well, I don't care. Do I? I mean, of course I care if people die or not, but it's a part of life. You live and then you die.

I think the question I'm basically asking is do I care about Posy? It depends. In what way? I look at "to care" in the dictionary and I suddenly feel like a fool. Only fools look up words like "care" in the dictionary. Anyway, it says: to be concerned or solicitous; have thought or regard. Okay, so yeah, I'm kind of concerned about her.

But at the same time... I'm NOT concerned about her. That doesn't even make sense. Next definition: to give protection or charge. I don't exactly "protect" her, although I could of did when I saved her from the Nemean Lion and that hellhound. But that was, like, an unconcerned sort of protection. Oxymorons aren't helping much here. The next definition catches me by surprise: to have a liking, fondness, or affection for; to wish; desire; like. My cheeks started getting hot and I closed the dictionary and pretended to read the assignment sheet.

To have affection for? To like? Posy? No. Definitely not. So why'd your cheeks get hot? the little voice inside asks. Shut up! I yell back. You were blushing! I bite my lip. No, I wasn't! Now seriously, shut up! The little voice is gone for a while, but just before the bell rings, I hear it again. Whatever you say it says, and it doesn't sound convinced at all. I do NOT have a crush on Posy, and just so it's clear, I make it a point to try and avoid Posy as long as I can. Apparently the Fates are against me on this one.

The bell rings and everyone is in a hurry to get out of class. A few of the bigger boys push past me in a violent manner, makes me drop my books and then calls me Freak-O. Is that supposed to be a spin on "Nic-O"? Freak-O? Weird. We didn't have just one established bully in Piece High, because in Pierce High, you were either a bully or a poor defenseless victim. Unfortunately for me, I was one of the victims. Although not necessarily defenseless, of course; I've fought back a few times, hence detention. But today, I decided to just let it slide. There'll be other times.

Anyways, getting back to my dream. Maybe this time, it really was just a dream. Usually, prophetic dreams are supposed to come true, right? Well, it's been quite a while since I had the dream and, hey, nothing's happened as of yet. so maybe it won't come true. Maybe I'm just being worried for no reason. Trust me, when you're half-god and all the monsters are out to get you, you have a lot to worry about; not just the essay you need to turn in next week.

Sally said that Percy and I are always so worried and tense and stuff and warned us that if we didn't calm the heck down she'd send us to a therapist. Sometimes we rambled about our worries to Paul who told us we were way too worried for 15 and 18 and we should just have ourselves a good cry.

I don't know; crying sounds girly. I only usually cried when it was about Bianca or my mother, whenever I had felt like I really alone without them and Father wasn't much help either (and neither was Demeter, who was always trying to stuff my face with cereal - "This boy is to skinnyyyyyyyyyyyyy! He needs more cereal!"). Although he did save our butts during the war against the Titans way-back-when. Hmm, maybe he deserves a little more credit. I decided not to linger too much on the dream; besides, if it really were all that important I would have had the dream again, wouldn't I?

I walked out the front door after I got my stuff from my locker. i didn't have any after-school activities or anything, so I was able to just walk home. I crossed the street and started walking in the direction of Percy's apartment. It was always Percy's apartment, not ours. I don't know why, but it never sounded right to call it myhome. I must've had a home back when Bianca and Mother were alive, but it's been so long and I can barely remember it, and they aren't here anymore.

New York traffic was heavy as usual and most of the cars were taxis with tourists in them. One of the taxis had a little girl in it with a huge (and I mean HUGE) lollipop. When I passed by she threw it to the ground at my feet. What a waste. Because of my ADHD, I stood there for a few seconds contemplating whether I should pick it up and steal a lick or two. It was dirty but who cares. Certainly not me. But germs are bad. What a dilemma I was in.

As I stood there staring at the broken lollipop I saw a shadow coming over it. "What are you doing?" I looked up. Posy. How ironic, just the person I wasnot looking for. First thing I noticed was the awful sweater she was wearing; the color of it hurt my eyes.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she said. What a coincidence; I've been avoiding her everywhere.

"Did you have trouble with bleach when you did your laundry?" I asked, gesturing toward the sweater. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I know. It looks horrible. Take a good long look at it and get all your laughs out because I'm not here so you can make fun of me."

"Why is that every time we meet like this there's something wrong with...well, your hair or your weird sense of fashion. Is this going to become a habit of yours?"

"Oh, shut up." I can't; I'm on a roll.

"And that sweater of yours is traffic-stopping. Seriously, you should send me a warning or something before you wear something like that around me." I couldn't help myself.

"Okay!" she yells. "I get it! Awful sweater and the color makes your eyes water. Moving on!"

I put my arms up in surrender. "Okay, okay. So what do you want? You didn't come looking for me just watch me stare at a lollipop, did you?" I suddenly remember the plight she's in and regret making fun of her. "Oh, right. Your grandfather; is he-?" she nods. "Oh. Sorry."

The silence between us started to get awkward, but neither of us say anything else for about the next six seconds, until she presented me with a squarish envelope with my name written on it in her neat girlish handwriting, and for a second I didn't even recognize that the name was mine. She handed it to me and at first all I do is stare at it, like it's something to eat.

"My grandpa's funeral is the day after tomorrow. You can come... if you want. It's okay if you don't, though. I understand."

"Okay," is all I could say to that.

"Yupp."

Awkward silence once again.

More awkward silence.

Finally, she started walking back, taking a few steps backward before turning around and kept going, and I started to feel the word-vomit thing; I don't know, it just felt weird ending the conversation here. Usually when people end conversations, they end at like, "Oh, I have to go now, my dog is giving birth", or "Sorry to end the conversation here, but I need to bail my cousin out of jail, the silly boy".

So this is what i came up with: "Posy!" I yelled and she turned around and stopped. "Umm," I manage to get it out. "Just for the record, sorry I couldn't do anything, ok? I wanted to, but couldn't. And, um... I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I was just... kind of frustrated and you being all pushy didn't help either. Are you still mad?"

"No, it's okay. Umm, I'm sorry, too. I'll see you soon." she turned around again and kept walking, the awful red sweater with her. I watched her leave, her worn sneakers taking more steps and widening the distance between us and then she rounded a corner and was gone. And then it was just me, again. Just me and the broken lollipop. And Posy wasn't mad anymore. I stuffed the envelope into my pocket and continued walking.

Posy's POV

Contrary to what movies portray in films, the day of the funeral was sunny and nice, not rainy and gloomy. I think it's perfect; I don't think Grandpa would have wanted a rainy funeral anyway. The sunny weather suits him better. Mom and Dad picked out a not-so-expensive but not-that-cheap casket made of some kind of reddish wood. Our extended family came from all over to say goodbye to our beloved patriarch. Frankie very cleverly made little cards with Grandpa's name on the back and a little prayer. On the front was a picture of him in his military uniform. He was a Marine, and the uniform made him look youthful, strong, and handsome.

Ariel was the first of my friends to show up, and then Lauren, who wore were new black jacket (gotta admit, it did look nice), then Min and Robbie came at the same time and I started to get the feeling that they were related as well, despite looking nothing alike. Nico was a no-show. I should have known he wouldn't show up. Or maybe he got lost, which doesn't seem very plausibly since he can practically run into someplace dark and end up somewhere else. Or maybe there was an emergency.

When we all sat down, Petter took his place at the front, and unfolded a piece of paper; his eulogy. he looked calm and collected, but there was no mistaking the way his hands shook as he unfolded the paper. He spoke into the mic:

"Umm, hi. I just wanted to say that... my grandfather was the best man I knew. He was one of my best friends and every time I look back on all the hard times, the times when I was depressed, angry, embarrassed, or sad, I always remember that he was there for me and he always told me that no matter what I would always have him. My grandfather was a man of wisdom and knowledge and respect. But above all that, he was a man of love. And it's because of his love that I am who I am and I am where I am. He was a man of courage and he committed to whatever he did and he saw it from the beginning until the end. I remember when I was in first grade, career week; my teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up and who our role model was. While the other boys said they wanted to be police officers or firefighters and that their role models were... Superman or that guy from X-men, I said that I wanted to be like my grandfather. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be respected. I wanted to be wise and brave and happy and successful. To me, my grandfather was the biggest man and nothing could take him down. But right now as I stand at his funeral, the one thing I could remember about him that comes to me right away is: he always smiled. And I think that's an important to remember about someone; that they always smiled. He such hope, such optimism, such faith that the world was good and he smiled. I miss him, but I'm miserable or sad; I don't think he'd want us to be. I think that, more than that, he would have wanted us to celebrate that he lived and have faith that someday we'd all be together. Thanks."

When peter stepped down, we could all see that he was crying, but not because he was sad. It was for a different reason. Every applauded and when the service was done and everyone had mourned and placed flowers near the coffin, everyone filed into the back room to talk and catch up. So far, it seemed like my family was the only one seriously affected. A few of my cousins were in a corner; the guy-cousins were talking sports and my girl-cousins were grooming themselves and texting on their phones. Min came up to me.

"I'm sorry about the loss," she said, "If there's something I can do, anything, just let me know."

"Thanks," I said and then I gave her a hug. Robbie did the same, but the hug was awkward because of his crutches. I made the most of it, though. Ariel and Lauren were with my cousins, talking and conversing like they'd been friends for years; it made me smile. I held the card with Grandpa's picture in my hand and looked at it with a smile. We'll meet again someday.

"Posy?" I heard my name called and I turned around. It was Dad and he was holding another bouquet of flowers. "Can you take these to the coffin, please? I really need to use the bathroom. Thanks." The bouquet was about as big as my torso and took both arms to hold, and then dad went off to find a bathroom. I shrugged and pushed past the big crowd of people, trying not to squish the bouquet.

The door leading to the room with the coffin had a glass window at the top, and through it I could see that someone was in there; dark hair, about my height, so I decided it was probably one of my cousins. Jeff or Ron most likely. I heard someone laugh and when I turned around to see who it was, it was Jeff with Ron next to him. But if Jeff and Ron were there then who was in the room?

Looking back at the figure in the room, staring down intently at Grandpa's body, I noticed that he was wearing a leather jacket. An aviator's jacket. "Nico?" I said half to myself. He turned his head a little, just enough so that I could see his profile. It was him, no doubt about it. Confirming my thoughts, I hurriedly began fiddling with the knob and opened the door, taking a little more time than I usually would because of the flowers. But when I got inside, he was gone. I looked around the room. Nothing. Not even a shadow or small remnant of him proving that he was even there.

I walked forward and stood in the spot where Nico was standing and placed the flowers on the ground next to the coffin. I looked at Grandpa's body. It looked the same as it was before, but as the men in suits came forward and picked up the coffin, ready to take it to the hearse, I saw what Nico had done. Just as the lid was being dropped, hiding the body, I saw two coins. Placed on each one of his eyes was a gold coin. For the boatman,I thought. The men took the coffin out of the room and toward the hearse, and I smiled. I guess Nico and I were okay, again.

I walked out the room and rejoined my family, bickering and talking about where Thanksgiving dinner would be and why Uncle James didn't show or Cousin Will's new girlfriend and why she had a funny accent or even Mom and how she could have the baby any time now; we still hadn't come up with a name yet, but we were thinking something old fashioned but had a nice ring. Something like Matthew or Sebastian.

Ariel and Lauren were still chatting up my cousins, who were complimenting Lauren's jacket. I went to them and joined in the conversation. Even with all the talking, there was no way I could mistake my mother's voice when I heard her talking to my dad. Her voice sounded a little worried, if not completely concerned. "Honey?" she said to him. "I think my water just broke." And that's when Dad went hysterical.

TBC..

I think people might have wanted me to describe the dad going hysterical, but I'm too lazy right now and my wrist hurts. Thanks for reading and keeping up with it even though it's been a long time since I updated. Please review and let me know what you thought of the new chapter! Thank you! :]