Chapter 3: Moms and Parties.

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My mom came home early, and rushed into the house.


"Megan! I have news!" She said waving a paper in my face.


"What?" I said writing down an answer to my Math Homework.


"I'm... Pregnant!"


I called it too, I knew it. No wonder she'd been having cravings so much. She was Pregnant.


"What? Mom, how?"


"Me and Ricardo...had a little fun the other night!" She said.


Ricardo? Who the hell was Ricardo?


"Oh..well I'll help you with the baby too." I said trying to be supportive.


"Thanks, Sweetie! I love you!" My mom walked up the stairs, slowly.


I loved my Mom dearly, but she was irresponsible. She had me when she was fifteen, which made her 30. She went out to clubs when I was 6 or 7, and expected me to take care of myself. If it was that way back then, then imagine the poor kid that's coming next.


I'd have to take care of the kid. My mom's own child, the one she made, with Ricardo.


Once I finished my math homework, I went upstairs to my bedroom, and heard a knock on my window. Who was here at 9 at night?! I opened the blinds to see Dallas on my roof, and opened the window quick 


"How the hell did you get up here?" I asked.


"I have my ways." I gave him a stern look, and he spilt. "Okay, fine. I used the ladder in your yard. I know where your window is surprisingly."


"Why are you here?" I asked.


"Wanna do something fun?" He asked me.


"Like...?"


"Go to a party. Tyler is having one down the road."


"Why are you asking me?"


"I dunno. You're cool, I guess. And you're my neighbor."


"Okay. I'll go. Just let me get changed. You can come in because I'm afraid you're going to fall off."


I grabbed a thong, and changed out of my underwear from PINK. Then, I grabbed jeans, and a sweater with my choice of bralette. (I chose black.) After I slammed a quick outfit together, I was ready to go.


Dallas was laughing, and I wasn't sure why so I asked.


"I saw you naked!" He said. "Your front and back side aren't too bad themselves." He winked for about the millionth time.


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