A/N: This one's nice and short! Like the last two chapters, this one kisses the line between K+ and T, but I don't think it crosses any boundaries. It's a tricky subject to write about, especially with such childlike characters as the Whos, but I did the best I could. I hope you like it! Oh, and Maran Zelde, as soon as I've posted this I'm going to take your advice and edit some of the parts with Jamie in them. Thanks for the suggestion!

"You're not serious."

Sally shrugged, looking down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Her family had all gone to see her younger sisters' soccer game, so they had her house to themselves. It had been very important that they be alone. "I'm pretty positive, yeah," she said.

"How is this possible?"

She looked up, and Ned was surprised to see the ferocity in her expression, though her face was still pale and drawn. "Ned, you've never gotten less than a B in any class in your life. I think you know how babies are made."

He swallowed, his gaze darting around the room like a trapped bird. He had turned white, and started to tremble so badly that Sally was worried he was going to fall over. "I don't . . . this . . . I . . . I . . ."

Finally she couldn't take it anymore. Climbing to her feet, she crossed the room and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Ned," she said softly, knowing that she was lying but unable to stop herself. "Shh. Just . . . calm down, because it's all going to be okay."

"No!" The vehemence in his voice startled her, and she did nothing as he shrugged out from under her hand. "This isn't right. I'm supposed to be the mayor. The mayor is supposed to be mature and responsible." Running a hand through his sweaty hair so that it stuck up in all directions, he pointed at her stomach, which would not show a baby bump for another few months. "This is not mature and responsible!" The look on his face made her feel alien, like some monstrous beast that had hurt him and he didn't quite understand why. She felt a painful tightening in her chest and knew that she was about to cry unless she did something, got angry.

"Well, it's not my fault!" she shot back, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She wished there was a bump, something that made her feel less alone. Her lips pressed together in an attempt to keep herself in control, and she ducked her head so that her hair would shield her face from his accusing, wounded expression. "You did it, too," she mumbled.

Sally heard a sharp intake of breath. Peering through her bangs, she watched him sink onto the couch, his head in his hands. "I know it's not your fault," he replied, his voice slightly muffled by his palms. "I just can't think. This wasn't supposed to happen. My brothers always said . . . It was one time. How can we —" Unable to finish, he broke off into shallow breaths that were agonizing to listen to.

She slipped a hand under the hem of her shirt, running her fingers gently through the fur above her bellybutton. It felt warmer than usual, but that was her imagination. At least, she thought so. She didn't know anything about this, she was realizing with increasing terror. "Maybe it's not yours," she said.

His head shot up, his face damp with tears. His bloodshot eyes met hers, huge and appalled. "W-what?"

Oh, great. She was supposed to be the strong one, but when he started crying. . . . She turned to the window, resting her forehead against the cool glass. "You're right. You're going to be mayor, and you can't have something like this hanging over your head. Who knows what kind of hell this will make for you?" She took a deep breath, pushing aside all questions of what kind of hell it would make for her. "I'm not the mayor. I'm not gonna be anything like that. So . . . I could tell people that I met someone else. That guy from somewhere north — Mr. G-something? — came by around the same time as prom. I could say that I hung out with him before he left." No one had liked his attitude, like he knew something that they hadn't. He'd said that his home was somewhere in a place called "Snowflake," and couldn't believe that no one in Whoville ever left their home. They'd be willing to believe anything about him, especially now that he had gone back to where he'd come from.

There was silence. She kept her eyes on the world outside her window, where the sun was just about to set and long purple shadows stretched across the front lawn. "You're not serious."

Despite herself, Sally had to smile a little. "You really have to stop repeating yourself," she said.

Ned's long arms wrapped around her waist before she knew he had gotten up, his chin resting heavily on the top of her head. "You would really do that?"

"Yeah, if you wanted me to. I love you, Ned."

"I love you, too, Sal." His arms tightened around her, pressing her more firmly against his lanky, awkward body. "You know, your parents are gonna freak out. My mom's gonna freak out. Our collective ninety siblings are gonna freak out. The council is going to skin me alive, and I don't even want to think about how the citizens of Whoville are going to react."

Sally chuckled nervously. "I hope this has a point," she replied, tilting her head back so that the curve of her head rested comfortably against the curve of his neck, and his chin was now on her forehead.

"None of that scares me half as much as thinking about how to tell Sarah that . . ." His fingers twitched, and she knew that he was trying to control the urge to start panicking again. "That we're going to have a kid."

"So we are?" She wriggled out of his grasp, turning so that her back was pressed against the window and she could see his expression. "Emphasis on we?"

Ned's face was still the color of milk that was starting to go bad, his eyes were still red and watery, and his fur was sticking up with a combination of tears and nervous sweat, but he had managed a hesitant smile, and it was the same smile she had loved since the first time she saw it, on their first day of kindergarten. One shoulder lifted in a weak shrug. "Yeah, Sal. Of course."

She was pregnant, she was still in high school, and she was most likely going to be murdered by one of her best friends — and if Sarah didn't do the job, her parents most certainly would. She wasn't even able to understand what was going on, or exactly how hard everything was going to get, starting that day. But she knew that Ned was there, and that he was willing to risk impossible amounts of public ridicule for her, to be with her. He had the chance to undo their mistake — for himself at least — and had turned it down.

That was the moment when she decided that she was going to marry Ned McDodd. In that same moment, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms, burying her face and his chest and breathing in huge, ragged gasps.

Unprepared for her sudden weight, he stumbled to one knee, forcing them both into an uncomfortable semi-crouch on the hardwood floor. "Sally? Do I need to get a paper bag? S-Sal . . ." Of course, Ned had never been in much control of his emotions, and as soon as Sally had started crying, he began to feel his own throat tighten and his eyes sting.

"Did someone die?"

Swiping at his eyes with one arm, he glanced over his shoulder (almost losing his precarious balance and sending them both tumbling) and saw Patrick and Sarah in the doorway. "What a-are you guys doing here?" he asked, turning back to Sally and helping her to her feet.

Sarah shrugged. "We let ourselves in." Snapping into best-girl-friend mode, she swooped in and wrapped a comforting arm around Sally's shoulders, pulling her close and leading her over to the couch, somehow simultaneously pulling tissues out of her purse. The boys just stood to the side, trying to ignore the fact that Ned had been crying and neither of them knew how to deal with it. "So," Sarah continued once Sally had managed to reduce her sobs to intermittent hiccups, "what happened, exactly?"

Well, Sally had had to tell him; it was only fair that he share the news with their best friends. Shoving his hands into his pockets because he didn't know what else to do with them, he mulled over what he would say. Should he just blurt it out? Should he lead up to it with a series of cleverly-worded questions? Should he have them guess? Oh, if only he'd had time to think up a speech — he'd have to remember to do that for the rest of Whoville. Though what would he say?

When nearly a minute had gone by in utter silence, Sally lost her patience and said, "I'm pregnant, guys."

That was clearly not what either of them had expected to hear. Patrick, who had started to clean his glasses, dropped them with a clatter. "Wow," Sarah said, her voice weaker and more hesitant than Ned had ever heard it. "That was . . . really stupid of you."

"Sarah!" Patrick admonished. "This is where you're supposed to be quiet if you can't think of a nice thing to say!" Underneath the glibness, though, he looked pretty shaken. Turning to Ned, he asked, "So what are you going to do now?"

"We don't know. I don't know about Sal, but I was kind of hoping you would have some ideas." Sally nodded, hiccuping again.

Patrick and Sarah looked at each other. He raised his eyebrows; she shrugged. Ned had always wondered how they could communicate like that. "I don't know anything about kids," Sarah finally said.

"Me neither," Patrick agreed.

They turned to Ned, who looked at them, baffled. "What?"

Sally smiled, then was interrupted by a hiccup. "Ned, you have eighty-five younger siblings. You must have taken care of a few babies."

"That's not the same!"

"You're right," Patrick agreed. "You guys are only going to have one instead of fifty."

"It's not going to be the same," he insisted.

Sally stood and walked over to him, taking his hand and drawing it around her waist. "I know. But it's something, isn't it? And people do this all the time. They've written books about it . . . Oh."

All four of them just stared at each other for a moment. "To the library!" Patrick shouted, and they began scrambling around for their coats and backpacks.

"How did we not think of this before?" Sarah asked, hastily pulling her purse over one shoulder. "We're supposed to be the smart kids."

"You mean nerds."

"Shut up, Patrick." She stuck her tongue out at him, and Ned was surprised to find himself laughing. He caught Sally's eye as she locked up the front door behind them and she smiled, reaching over to take his hand.

"Maybe we're actually becoming cool," she suggested, and though she wasn't quite laughing, she looked happy.

"You guys are so mean," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. "I pity your future child."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ned saw Sally close her eyes and take a deep breath, squeezing his hand tight. He leaned in close and whispered, "It's okay, Sal."

"I know," she whispered back. And it was, somehow. The odds weren't great for this entire situation working out, it was true. But then again, the odds of Ned ever having a girlfriend who wanted him for more than his mayoral title were even worse, and look where he was now.

There would be plenty of time for freaking out, crying, thinking that they would never be able to survive. But for right now, they had the best friends anyone could ask for, and they were together.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder. "By the way, when you guys are feeling better I have to kick your butts for this. Remind me."

It would have to be enough.