آپ were at the Curtis house; waiting for Soda to get ہوم from work. Ponyboy had been watching آپ for today, making sure آپ “didn’t overwork yourself” and “was smart.”
The pain struck آپ again, and آپ just groan. “Baby Grace آپ are early. آپ aren’t supposed to come out for another two weeks. You’re annoying me.” آپ talk to the bulge in your belly.
“(Y/N), are آپ ok?” Ponyboy asks from his bedroom.
“I’m fine.” آپ answer back, turning your attention back to Mickey ماؤس on TV. All of a sudden آپ really wanted some chocolate milk.
“Hey Ponyboy, can آپ get me some chocolate milk… Please?” آپ ask from the couch.
He walks from his room to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out the gallon of milk. He starts to get a glass, but آپ stop him.
“Just bring me the whole carton.” آپ wave him over.
“Just don’t get sick… I won’t be able to hear the end of it from Soda,” he says as he hands آپ the carton. آپ unscrew the lid and gulp.
Another pang hits you, this one different from all the others.
آپ spit out the milk, like a bad spit take.
“Ponyboy we need to go.”
The look of pure panic crept onto his face.
“Go where?” He asked, eyes wide.
“The hospital. Like now.”
“I can’t drive!” Ponyboy says, starting to pace.
“And I can’t walk!” آپ say.
“Oh my god, what are we gonna do?” He asks.
“I don’t know, you’re the one supposed to be taking care of… Owwww.” آپ clutch your stomach.
“Ok… Uhh let me call someone to come and get us.” He runs to the phone.
آپ wince as another contraction hits.
آپ might just be having a baby on the couch.
